He wasn't unaware Max twisted his face at his bubbly little sister, for a moment seeing the face of the happy Hyena pup she'd once been, gore-slicked and half spackled in dirt and drool from her antics. Before the brown curls. Before those bright blue eyes. So much had changed. So much remained the same. At least they were still together, even if she was awful at identifying perfectly good flamingo impressions.
Careening wildly to keep from tumbling over in the attempt to avoid his sister's elbows, Max thumped his knee against the side of a caramel apple cart. A brownie came darting out from behind it, shaking a wooden ladle dripping in hot caramel in the air at the troublesome duo. "Off with yous, knock shite over som'ere else!" she screeched. "Git!"
Max cackled. "Race you, Ringmaster!" He called back to the posturing Roxi. He took off running, or rather, hop skipping and managing not to fall on his face at a fair jaunt. As with almost everything, Max thought stilts felt better at speed. He could develop a momentum to propel forward, swinging over the peak height of each stride, using gravity to throw himself into the next step. Well now! Maybe this wasn't so bad. Stilts might be the thing for him, after all.
"Rox! Ek het dit!" the gangly teenager shouted over his shoulder, a joyful grin slanted across his face. He'd turned his head just an inch too far, though. Look where you're going, and the body follows, so they say. Max's stilts twisted under his legs, catching on one another mid stride. The blunder sent him tumbling forward head over heels.
Too cocky, too soon.
"Owwww," came the complaint from a tangle of awkward limbs and twisted stilts sprawled in the dirt of the midway.