So…morning came again.

I woke up and laid there for a while, I guess because—I could. I got up—but stretched and I took my time doing it, and I farted once or twice and that was cool, too, I guess. Chico had been lying beside me, so when I left that little nest we had made and I left his whole left side exposed to the bitter morning cold, he woke up cussin’ at me (Look, bitch—). And that was normal too, I guess.

So then I was grazing and my back was covered in grass and I wasn’t really givin’ a shit cuz—well, I didn’t need to, I guess. And eventually Cheek stopped being mad at me and got up (stretchin’, stretchin’) and he shot out passed me, all white mane and grey fur and flapping wings as he ran through the frost-covered field. And I thought—fuck it—and bolted after him, snorting and bucking and farting again (and vaguely wondering if Tembovu was gonna get pissed with me farting all over the place) and racing Cheek towards--wherever. Cuz we were free to do that.

Something was happening and it was sitting weird with the both of us, but it didn’t feel bad either. It was this steady lessening of a—thing, I dunno what, but the less of it there was, the easier it was to wake up in the morning, and stretch, and fart, and breathe a little. And I guess that meant we were getting used to living in a herd.

Neither of us was sold on the idea yet. I kept asking Cheek his thoughts and he’d just sigh or lick his nuts or whatever and ignore me until the subject changed (No trust this place). He’d been like that since the herd meeting, since that one time he had been aggravated by the white Queen for no reason (Important reason). And he had dropped like I told him—but I could tell, even if he refused to say to me, that it was still a thing he was chewing on.

(No more chewing. I remember face now.)

(No trust.)

Whatever he was feeling, it didn’t stop him from chillin’ like a straight villain all up in this place. And yeah, I caught the bug too, the slow realization that there wasn’t…quite…anything for me to do at the moment. No mysterious murderer to find, no feral gods on the loose, no ancient threats. Okay, I still had to protect the world or whatever (whatever that meant) but it was clear I was doing something wrong. Living on the fringes, keeping my nose too far out of everyone’s business. How the hell was I supposed to save everyone’s asses if I kept avoiding them? So yeah—maybe there was virtue to staying in a herd. And I guess that’s why Cheek was letting me chew on the idea some more.

(Not this one.)

We kept chasing each other for a little while—not really going anywhere, not really running from anything. Instead of disappearing like it was supposed to, the morning mist just got even thicker than the shit already was, but that didn’t stop Cheek from egging me on, flippin’ the bird, anything to get me to chase him and pound my ass around the place.

It wasn’t until the bastard tried to lead me off a fuckin’ cliff face that I pumped the brakes, skidding to a stop at the very edge of a sheer drop. The Edge of the world. The asshole had taken flight after taking the jump, and I hadn’t seen him do it cuz of the damn mist. He was laughing about it too, the jerk.

When gonna fly?

My breath was huffing, my sides heaving as I tried and failed to see his soaring shadow over the churning, icy sea. One day, I ‘unno, I said dismissively. I rocked back on a hoof, taking a minute to just…chill, I guess, cool my jets while I looked out over the end of the world, wondering what it meant if I couldn’t see it clearly through all this goddamned mist.  

Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.