[FORGIVE ME FOR I HAVE SKIMMED]

In the nights following my escape beside my pack mate, she whispered to me of her plans. She has much greater ambitions and capabilities than I, so I listened intently, a rising giddiness gurgling in my soul at the prospect of Oblivion rising back into power. So it was, singing a soft tune to myself in my bliss, I wandered the shore line of this scrap of land she meant to claim for herself. Her howl echoed out and I froze, turning attentively to the sound of war. My jowls nearly salivated at the prospect and I crept closer, wanting to witness the feat of ripping a crown from a king for myself.

A voice barks out, sickeningly sweet, and attracts my attention. An ear flicks over, hearing the challenge finally begin, but it seems the cheap seats are just yonder with the honey tones. I change course, wanting to enjoy the show alongside everyone else. Who knows, maybe someone even brought delicious apples?


"It's already ugly," I laugh, pushing through the shrubbery to come into view, just passing by the hidden mare. I don't see her, but I'm not looking.

I stand in full view, dazzled by the disco ball bitch. The dancing lights cause me to squint, my orange irises sharpened by their frame of black lids and lashes. I shake my head, as if it might somehow rid my view of the sparkles, and in doing so the crown of a dead elk's antlers pressed into my skull wavers side to side. Bits of my mane and other debris have been tangled in it since I donned it. The blood around its base where I pressed it against my skin and then some has since dried and scabbed over, itching, much like antlers do when coming in velvet I assume. Most opt to scrape off the dying flesh on trees, I might just scrape it off on her.
She'd look pretty with some red, it'd match her eyes.

I smile at the thought, but the motion lacks the usual charm on my features with my jigsaw grin lighting up my crocodile face.

"Maybe the wolf can re-decorate though. Oblivion knows this place needs it."

I'm particularly sane today. I think the satisfaction of consuming that stallion's semen to satiate my lust and my purpose has added to that. Though one could argue I'm insane to be insulting this group of horses that are so obviously rooting against my sister, but fear does not register correctly in my being. I'm simply chatting after all, nothing scary about that.