December 14th, 2012
Wanda’s life was a simple one. Mosey around the farm, eat hay, roll in the grass. Repeat the next day. It was a simple life, but a good like for a horse.
That all changed when a stranger came to the farm. He was cold, shaggy, and panting like mad. All he wanted was food for the night. Wanda offered him some oats, but his gaze stayed fixed upon her.
“No,” he said. “I think I need more–” Their eyes locked. For what felt like an eternity, Wanda’s blank stare and the puppy’s cavernous mouth. “–protein.”
It was a split second decision. Forget the farm.