K1A1 stood like a mountain, large and unmoving, in her preferred lookout area of the Inlet—her cold eyes fastened to the many dotted horses milling about below. The herd had grown quickly—their numbers doubling over the course of the spring. She watched diligently as Dögun and Freya greeted them all, welcoming each of them in the most cordial way possible. It was a task better suited for them, as socializing was not K1A1’s strength. She preferred the language of business—whatever business it was—war, strategy, or even sex. These were all concrete, mechanical functions. They were tasks that could be executed and plans that could be carried out. Without such tasks, K1A1 grew irritated. While she generally did not care what duties she was asked to perform, she did grow resentful of performing the same task repeatedly. Border patrol was fine, but she felt she was being underutilized, treated as a glorified wall. K1A1 snorted loudly and stamped her large hoof into the dirt.

With this small bubble of resentment prickling at her gut, K1A1 finds herself preoccupied with the notion of change. In the past when her operators had grown stale, unable to provide her with sufficient usage quotas, K1A1 had simply left. She could certainly do that now without fanfare, but she suspected such a decision would leave her in a less significant position than the one she faced now. After all, one simple task was better than no tasks.

And so K1A1 waited, watching like a hawk and tempting turmoil to fester within the Inlet so that she might have something else to accomplish.

K1A1