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The still winter air crackled with signs of another’s approach: the musty, sweet smell of equine flesh tickled Moniz’s nostrils, and the soft pull of tall legs through high snow alerted her dainty ears. Her mind, so desperate for stimulation, devoured the sensory input like a prisoner enjoying their first well-seasoned meal after being released from the horrible monotony of stale bread and water. Heartened by the knowledge that she would soon have a scapegoat for all of this mind-numbing vitriol, the sturdy little pony assumed a vigilant pose, her pulse quickening with anticipation as she waited to finally see her victim with her own eyes – to know that the fight she so desperately wanted was indeed forthcoming.
At last, a tall dappled mare rimmed in soot strode confidently into Moniz’s field of vision. From her prideful pose, the pony understood that this mare’s eagerness to fight mirrored her own. Good. Beating up on weaklings is so dull. Not that it had ever stopped her…
Moniz stood unflinchingly under the bigger horse’s probing gaze, watching her defiantly. She only really wanted a cursory look at the other animal: fights always had a similar form for Moniz. The enemy was taller and more physically impressive. Always. She never expected anything else. A smattering of scars graced this particular mare’s hide: this wasn’t her first rodeo. Beyond that, Moniz did not give a damn about the mare’s specific features. Besides, she would be doing her damnedest to mangle those beyond recognition in moments, anyways.
The challenge was uttered coyly, but to Moniz, this was no game. She knew her physical disadvantages meant every fight deserved her full attention. There was no room for frivolity. She let the mare’s smirked words fester, kneading them into the shape of an unforgivable affront to her dignity that required swift, merciless retaliation. Little black-tipped pony ears shot back against her neck, and with a fiery shake of her head she glowered with as much ferocity as one pony could manage, “Let’s go, bitch.”
Scorched legs launched into motion, springing through the snow with surprising agility. She was fat, but she was blessed with the sneaky quickness ponies so often possess. Of course, the exertion to move through the snow slowed her momentum, but she fought her way forward, cherishing the heat of her laboring leg muscles. The disturbed powder billowed around her in soft clouds of white, but Moniz’s world burned red hot – a lingering effect of her explosive temper.
The pony’s focus narrowed in on the Spanish-type mare’s crest. It was a large target on this big horse, and made an obvious choice for a first point of attack. With their height differential, it might be hard to reach, but having made her decision, Moniz was fully committed. She leapt straight from the snow, thrusting forward from her haunches with far more effort than normal to account for both the mare’s height and the snow that fought to keep her already heavy body earthbound. She opened her mouth and snapped, aiming for the softest flesh that sat atop the middle of the crest. She shut her eyes momentarily and let the relief of action – of life! - flood through her, indulging in the decadence of that moment; the one she was craving so desperately during these days of intolerable monotony.
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[JUDGED] Who's the crooks in this crime? [Hellä]
