.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
The gelding's face is a picture of abject misery as he trundles through hock-deep snow, his ears slicked against his skull and head held high in a vain attempt to keep it away from the snowflakes. He hates winter. He hates summer as well, come to think of it. He loathes the extremes of either weather condition; too hot or too cold. Oh, for spring or fall, when the temperature is just right! Oh, for a snug, warm stable! His tail drapes into the snow, the tip growing moist and unpleasant and cold. Damn the winter. In the distance, he sees a flash of pink. Pink? He's reminded of little girls' jackets and hats, always such a vivid, vomit-inducing shade of pink. Once, they'd even put pink tinsel in his bridle, for shame. How the other horses had laughed! So the colour is not one Badger thinks he'd find out here in the wild, and he quickly shuffles towards it. Snow sucks at his legs and exhausts him quickly, but the flash of pink and sudden waft of delicious sugar keeps him going. He loves sugar. If the children brought him a sugar cube or an apple or a mint, he'd be extra sure not to throw them off at all for the next couple of weeks at least. Greed flashes in his warm hazel eyes and he puts a bit more gusto into his lazy walk, pushing through the snow with his broad chest like a plough. There he sees it. A small unicorn, flopped in a snowdrift. His mane and tail are pink, and he smells...glorious. The gelding stomps over, peering down with healthy astonishment at the pony. "You're...pink," he observes, somewhat stupidly. Pink! The other male's apparent love of snow is also rather queer, but that comes second behind the fact he's pink. |
@[Johnny]
