Rooster's ears are a bit long to belong to a horse, his muzzle a bit narrow and the bones of his cheeks a bit wide--he's a mule, but quite a smart one, easily flattered by the attentions of people who might be bribed by his charmingly comedic appearance to give him food. When Araceli extends her hand out to him, he noses it curiously, clearly searching for fruit. Discovering none, his ears sweep backward. Hmph.

She didn't sneak in like some thief come to steal in the night, and the massive nuggalope seems to recognize her; that and her kindly treatment of Rooster is enough to put Fern at ease. She sits up a bit in her bed of straw and scratchy wool blankets, rubbing a bit of sleep from her eyes. "He likes apples," she volunteers to Araceli sleepily, and reaches for her boots to tug them on, so that she can clamber down the ladder. She's awake now; might as well be sociable.