Adoption Den

"Only the dead have seen the end of war."
– George Santayana.

It was not in Zhukov’s nature to nurture, as far as anyone knew, that part of her brain had been removed and dissected for later study; in fewer words, it was general belief that she had the mothering instincts of a dead llama. So why, in the name of all things holy and not, the buckskin mare was stalking the edges of the Den like a cat about to pounce, was a surprise to anyone that might have taken the time to get to know her. She laid her ears back, put off by the cries of the lost and the lonely; while the sound itself was annoying, she couldn’t really blame them. It made no sense to her why someone would leave them here.

Zhukov moved along, touching the very tip of her nose against their little heads as she passed; she felt guilty, and briefly thought about snatching them all up and taking every single one of them home with her. Like a careless, little girl in a pet shop who was contemplating stealing a bunch of cute hamsters that she would no doubt forget to feed and they’d all die. She was about to go through with her little scheme when, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the little, newborn filly. Normally, Zhukov wouldn’t have been so soppy, not in the presence of another adult, but like most women, her barriers were easily beaten down by all things cute and fluffy. Cisley was at the top of the totem pole when it came to cute and fluffy, edging out teddy bears, baby dolls and puppy dogs by far.

As serious and menacing as Zhukov could be, on any given day, it was hard to imagine her like that in the Den. Especially now. Her head could have exploded from the swell of adoration for all of the babies, and she never would have noticed – it was quite strange and eerie to see her like that. Zhukov slinked on over, winding herself towards the filly and the unfamiliar mare rather than coming straight at them, not wanting to appear threatening. “Hello,” she said, nodding to the Amazon. Not that she was aware she was in the presence of an Amazon. Zhukov had never set foot near one of her kingdom’s allies. “I’m Zhukov…” she trailed off, not sure of what else to say. She wasn’t really on a recruiting mission so dropping names and titles and telling them where she lived wasn’t a priority, to be quite honest; her business here was a bit more personal.