SCREAMING IN THE DARK, I HOWL WHEN WE'RE APART
It would appear the pair of fillies was at a stale mate. Both refusing to admit that their respective holdings, the foot and the bay, were stinky. Úna had certainly never gotten a stick caught in her foot and she was considering bringing up such a point. At least until she had an insult hurled at her back! "My dad will just take it out for me! Like a nice horse! Which you, are NOT!" Úna whirled around, stalking the few steps back toward Svetka with her ears pinned so tightly to her neck that they almost disappeared in the soft multicolored curls of her mane. Her brow furrowed and her nostrils twitched as a frown tugged at her lips.
"I am too nice!" She squeaked, tail thrashing wildly in the air as she stomped a foot in the snow. "You wouldn't know a nice horse if one bit you in your big stinky butt!" She'd been demoted from stinky foot to stinky butt, and Úna wasn't going to back down any time soon.
Remembering her original threat, Úna turned around as if she was going to leave for real when Svetka called her a tattletale. The painted filly went rigid, halting mid step and snorting. She was no snitch! Before she could say something she heard a soft thud in the snow and turned around, ready to say something.
"HELLO?" Úna's eyes went wide as she stared down at the body in the snow. Not just a body. A corpse!! Úna's chest heaved and she took a few tentative steps back. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She started trotting nervously in circles around the collapsed Svetka, taking cautious glances back at the herd in the distance ever so often. "She DIED. What am I gonna do? Dad is gonna be so mad." She freezes with a realization.
"My mom is gonna kill me." Úna looked down at Svetka. "Get up, get up, you're just being silly." Úna urged, nudging Svetka with her whisker-covered muzzle. "Not working, not working. Ok Úna think. Of course the was no body, daddy, I never met anyone named Svetka." Una started kicking some snow on top of the other filly but ended up frowning at her handiwork.
"This isn't working," she groaned. "I have to get rid of the evidence!" She lunged forward, seeking out the stinky foot. She grabbed the offending stick and pulled it free, ready to dispose of the murder weapon. |
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