The sight of you Is a glass Of ice water Straight down my back.

The sound of your voice: Nails on a chalk board, Driving me mad, That horrible noise.

How dare you use me, How dare you lie, You don’t deserve the right To make me cry.

I will not take any more, Nor can I care. Apathy envelops me, And I just stay there.

I’m not coming back from this, I swear that I am done, There’s nothing anyone can do, I need to go back to my person. All I’ve known since I was born Was that this life was really prison.

You wouldn’t think it possible for a two-ton creature to sneak away from an entire circus staff, but it’s fascinating how easy it is to get caught up in your own pre-show work and ignore the elephant not in the room. It’s also fascinating how many people in a small town with a peanut butter factory will see an elephant walking down the street and assume that it’s none of their business - until the elephant knocks down the door of the aforementioned peanut butter factory.

Shelves collapsed, jars flying from side to side, the containers unable to be screwed open smashed open instead. A whole vat of peanuts waiting to be shelled upended all over the floor, creating a crunchy carpet. The walls were scraped with tusk marks and enormous round footprints cracked the tile. Merry snorting and contented slurping filled the air.

In the doorway, the elephant trainer’s daughter shook her head. “Oh, Jumbo. Not again!”

The elephant just kept merrily chowing down, unbothered by her distress.

Peering over the railing, Harambe watched as the humans in the cage - or enclosure, to those who like to pretend the cages are in some way for the humans sake - wait to receive their nightly meal. To most gorillas who come to the zoo, watching the humans feed is considered highly stimulating. All of them crowded together as they eat the meat of another animal. It is quite barbaric really when you think about it. Harambe on the other hand found that the most interesting time at the zoo was not during the meal - but right before it. At this point the humans are at their most aggravated state, lashing out at the other humans in the cage over minor inconveniences. That is when the real entertainment happens.

Harambe was pulled from his thoughts when he caught sight of movement below. The humans began to stir, sensing that their feeding time was near. One of the smaller humans cried out in distress as a larger one pushed it to the ground. They seemed to be screaming at each other in that unintelligible language of theirs and Harambe wished he could understand what all of the fuss was about. Harambe looked closer as the small human on the ground got up and charged the large human. The large human stepped into an attacking stance and was pulling its fist back to hit the small human when -

Harambe screamed as he fell through the barrier that protected him from the humans below and he plummeted into their bathing pool. Disoriented from the fall, he did not have time to react as the large human grabbed his foot and began dragging him through the water. He couldn't hear anything over the roaring of the gorillas watching from above and could not breath as water filled his nose and mouth. He was going to die, he thought, as the human whipped him back and forth under the water. He was going to die and they would have to pry his dead body from the hands of this lowly creature before they could bury him besides the other members of his troop that had passed.

Just as he thought he would pass out from lack of oxygen, Harambe heard the sound of gun shots and the humans grip on his leg went slack. He slowly raised his head from the water and Harambe's jaw went slack as he took in the human dead before him, several bullet holes lodged in its body.

The news reports ran nonstop for days, showing videos of his near death at the hands of the large human. The reporters depicted the human as the bad guy, and as much as Harambe wanted to agree with them he often found himself lying awake at night feeling immense guilt. If he had been more careful and not fallen the human would still be alive. What made his life more valuable than another's, anyway?

Abigail was standing at the foot of Captain Gibbons’s bed, the candlelight shining through her gauzy shift, showing the tantalizing outline of her lithe, curvy body. He held his breath as she sauntered towards him, finger pressed to her lips; he fought the urge to bolt out of bed, embrace her, and devour her with kisses. The corner of her mouth was upturned in a seductive half smile. Her silken, wavy hair glowed amber in the soft candlelight. She leaned over him, her hair tickling his face, neck, and chest, causing him to draw in a quick, shuddering breath. Abigail slowly reached out her hand, lightly drumming all over his body with her fingers. A rather odd thing to do, he thought; he wasn’t quite sure how to react with this…unexpected turn of effort. Ow! She pinched his big toe hard enough to draw blood.
He abruptly sat up—his room was heavy dark, save the purple velvet pre-dawn sky through the window. He was alone. It was a dream…but, he still felt something touching… Henry bolted out of bed with a panicked yelp, squinting into the dark for the erstwhile muse of his fantasy turned nightmare. The skitter of small claws across his feet, induced another alarmed squalk as he frantically felt for his candlestick and flint to search for the creature loose in his room. “Captain? Captain are you alright?” Abigail queried from the other side of the door. “What’s amiss?”
“Please! Bring light! There is a wild beast in my chamber!” He knocked his papers to the floor as he groped blindly for the flint. The rank smell of animal musk piqued his disgust. He kicked the chamber pot with a disconcerting slosh as he sprung upon the bed.
Abigail cautiously opened the door, candelstick in hand, Grace and Betsey close behind with a broom, frying pan, and basket to apprehend—or obliterate—the intruder. Grace stifled a giggle at the ridiculous scene.
“Where is it?” asked Abigail. “And…what is it?” “If I knew the answer to either of those questions, madam, I would not be standing upon the bed!” “All right, now, don’t get yer breeches in a bunch,” said Grace, reproachfully. “‘Cept you ain’t wearing breeches, now, are ye?” Grace unsuccessfully to stifled another snigger as Captain Gibbons, wearing only his night shirt, flushed dark red.
“Charles, get down on the floor and see if you can spot the, um, beast under the furniture. Captain, you take that corner with the wash basin. Grace, you shoo it out with the broom. I shall cover the area of the desk and chair. Betsey, you be ready to capture it.” Whatever it was proved to be a worthy adversary of seek-and-find; those items the creature didn’t up-end, its captors managed to topple. By the time Betsey managed to clap it under the basket, the room looked as though a hurricane had swept through. The ridiculousness of the whole situation caused them all to grin and snort with laughter. The trapped assailant voiced his displeasure with angry, high pitched growls and rustling about.
“What is it?” queried Captain Gibbons, dabbing at the bite marks on his big toe with the tail of his shirt. “I…I think I know,” Charles interjected, meekly. “’Tis a weasel. I thought it could live in my…” “Charles…you wicked boy! Take this wild animal outside this instant! If it bites you, you deserve it!
“Oh, Captain Gibbons, my sincerest apologies. Here, let us tidy up,” said Abigail as they endeavored to set everything to rights. Captain Gibbons stepped into the hallway to discreetly don his breeches. When he came back, Abigail was neatly stacking his correspondence back upon the desk. “No! Miss Campbell, those are…” Henry blurted out, louder than he meant, as he lunged to wrest the stack of foolscap. “I mean…forgive me, madam, do not trouble yourself with those. Thank you for, um, coming to my rescue.” Rescue? Henry, you are a damned coward and reckless fool! he chided, inwardly.
“Captain, I am profoundly sorry for the trouble we have caused you…” “Please think nothing of it. No harm done. Do not be hard on the boy; I was not much better at his age.” “Very well, then. Good night.”

“How’d I do, Abbie?” whispered Charles. “Very well, my love. Most convincing. Remember: it is our secret.”

Melly and Jack both rose early on a Saturday morning, squabbling for the shower to get ready for work, as per usual. Jack somehow swindled his way into getting to go first, and Melly played with their four month old German Shepard puppy as she waited for the shower to free up. After what seemed like an eternity, it was finally her turn and she told Jasper to be a good boy and chew his bone in the corner. Jasper grumbled, talking back with sass. What a little bastard.

      Dance music blasted as Melly took her time in the shower; much longer than Jack. She tried not to slip as she danced while scrubbing her body with rose scented body wash and a loofah. She heard some loud banging and crashing from outside, but decided it was probably Jack watching a stupid action movie again and shaved her legs with meticulousness, being sure not to miss any hair patches. 

       After about an hour and a half of exfoliating, shaving, and scrubbing, Melly was finally done with her shower and oiled with scented lotions. Her hair was blown dry and lustrous, the tips saturated in a glossy oil. Her dark hair stood out against her light-colored skin and complemented her pleasingly. She opened the bathroom door and steam escaped it, cool air hitting her warm skin. She turned the corner to go inside the kitchen and saw what seemed to be where a tornado took place. Trash scattered everywhere, tissue ripped to shreds, a glass cup shattered on the floor, shards daring a bare foot to mistakenly step onto them. The fridge was open, unidentifiable, red liquid spilling out of it onto the hardwood kitchen floor. An absolute disaster had occurred, and Melly was terrified to even see what mishaps the living room held for her. 

      She stopped the messy leakage as best she could and put some towels on the floor, moving quickly to the living room where a bag of cool ranch Doritos had been opened up, probably stolen from the cabinet in the kitchen. The guilty culprit laid angelically on the lime-green cashmere couch. He had his face in his paws, appearing to be hiding from Melly shyly, but she knew better. Jasper was the one to blame for the mess, and she had just cleaned not one day ago. Melly was livid, even more so as she noticed Jasper laid his head on a fluffy new pillow she had ordered from Amazon. It was ripped open, and covered in Doritos crumbs.  

“Jasper, you Bastard!” Melly exclaimed, and he made a run for it. His swift legs flung out in front of him and behind rapidly, as he desperately tried to escape his owners capture and wrath. He jumped up when he reached the bedroom door, pushing it open and sprinting under the bed. Melly caught up and squatted down on her hands and knees, peeking her head underneath the bed as Jack still somehow laid peacefully sleeping on the bed, She yanked her young puppy out from under the bed as he yelped in anguish. She scooped up the guilty pup in her hands, and his tail was between his legs, his ears down and back behind his head in shame.

      “Are you kidding me? You did a bad AND you ran from me???” 

Melly scolded the dog, carrying him to his kennel. She pried the metal doors open with a quickness, and put him directly in front of it.

     “Now you go in there and think about what you did!” She exclaimed furiously. 

Jasper huffed in exasperation and grumbled, seemingly annoyed to have been caught red handed and punished for his actions. He sauntered into his cage with his head down, defeated. Melly swatted him once on the butt, not too gently to where it felt like a pat and not hard enough to be considered a spank.

  “Don’t you talk back!” Melly protested, shutting the doors of his time out box and covering it with a blanket. Jack rose suddenly, coming out of the room in his light-blue boxer briefs, covered in a tan blanket like a tortilla to a burrito. 

     “Hey baby, what’d I miss?” Jack interrogated groggily, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. Melly rolled her eyes and sighed, much like her annoyed pup only minutes ago and plopped on her lazy boy in exasperation. 
   “Oh, nothing babe, just the dog terrorizing the house again.”

The deer ran into the house, leaping and jumping around. I tried not to panic and shoo the deer out the back door. My dog barked at the intruder, which ignored him and continued it’s parade through my living room. I tried to loop his neck and guide him out the door, but he effectively avoided me. It wasn’t until I stopped to call Animal Control that the wild animal started to tire. It splayed down to the floor. Soon rescue arrived. They tranquilizer the tired deer and carried it out.

“We cannot cower.” The King boomed. “We must be strong, untied. A mighty force that—”

Thump! Thump! Fifteen heads turned towards the grand doors. Bewildered expressions jumped down the table from each Knight to the next—everyone knew the rule: No disturbing the King's Counsel.

The King cleared his throat, and all heads twisted back to him. “A mighty force that—” The doors shook again. Brass handles trembled and echoed through the large hall.

“Jester,” The King waved a stiff hand, ordering me over. “Go see to the door. Discover why the guards are not completing their duties.”

Although he still addressed me by the title, I wasn't so much a jester anymore but more of the King’s personal servant. Not that I minded, washing the King’s skivvies was marginally better than the crushing embarrassment of a jester performance. However, I did still have to wear the outfit.

Hesitantly, I bowed my head, cringing as my hat jingled. Sat beside the King, Sir Cal snorted. Strands of wispy black moustache disappeared into his mouth, and I made a mental note to slip pepper into his morning, Earl Grey.

“Yes, sir.” I said, “Certainly.” And I slowly moved around the King’s golden chair. I didn't understand why one of the Knights couldn't have done it; possibly their backsides had welded to their seats.

Pair’s of glaring eyes—except for Sir Alice, poor girl only had one—followed my wobbly journey towards the door. The silence was awkward and painful. The bells on my shoes chimed and tingled; I never so hoped the ground would have swallowed me. Maybe the potential intruder waiting on the other side of the door would run me through, put an end to my humiliation.
Or maybe—

The door rattled, and I realised I had been standing motionless before it like a lost lemon. “Jester!” The King shouted. “Yes,” My fingers fumbled around the door handles. “Apologies, My King.”

Yanking the handles down, I pulled the doors in. Warmth and a strangely deserted corridor greeted me. Not a guard, nor a hurrying, sweating servant insight. And no murderous mercenary.

Odd.

A chair scraped from behind. “Jester!” the King barked, “Who is it?” “Er... Nobody, My—”

My hat flew from my head, stolen by a burning blast of air. The bells landed with a ringing clang, skidding along the stone floor.
The Knights gasped, and I didn't think seeing my hair was something to cry about, but then I turned back towards the door.

Wings spanned to either side of the doorway, and each curve, phalanges, extended out to a sharp, white talon. Two enormous feet, also sporting some rather nasty looking weapons, dangled from the wyvern’s body. Green, almost iridescent blue scales covered the wyvern’s head, and back and eyes of onyx flicked every which way, never staying still longer than a second. The young wyvern roared, sparks of embers dancing over its muzzle.

My breath abandoned me as the young Wyvern swooped over my head. Golden scales coloured her belly, and I caught a glimpse of the faint red tinge where her heart was. “A wyvern... And a goat?”

Following behind, his hooves beating a rainstorm galloped a goat. Just a goat—a wyvern and now a farmyard pigmy goat.

The little black and white goat charged towards the table of Knights. Horned stubs struck the corner of Sir Mabel’s chair. The leg splinted. Wood cracked. The leg broke. Sir Mabel’s chair, along with her, plunged back. She crashed with a strangled cry against the ground. Like a guilty child, the goat disappeared under the table.

Knights shot from their seats. Swords found their way to hands, and suddenly, the great hall was consumed with yelling adults and the ringing clang of armour.

“Someone capture the goat!” Someone shouted. I couldn't see who. “It’s got my cape!” Shouted another—Sir Lou? “The wyvern?” “The goat, idiot!”

Abandoning my hat on the floor, I hurried around the table, narrowly dodging a swing from Sir Alice’s sword. Her eye patch had shifted slightly, and I could see the hollow socket beneath. “Apologies, Jester,” she panted. “It’s alri—”

“Out the way, fool!” Sir Grant—his hair a mane of blond that all the ladies and gents seemed to adore—shoved me to the side. And as the graceful man I am, I fell, tumbling in a tangle of limbs. My head smacked the back of a chair. I gasped, drowning in a nauseating tide of dizziness and flashing lights.

Feet pounded my skull, or maybe they were simply running by, and my blurred eyes gazed up. The wyvern rose, spiralling up to the stained glass steeple. I watched in awe; my neck bent a banana as a spurt of flame burst from the little one. A rainbow of colour ignited over her scales—she truly was spectacular.

With a graceful twist of her wings, the Wyvern descended. She roared, and another flare of fire blasted. Black soot stained the white brick wall, and a cloud of smoke drifted into the air.

“For the love of the Saints, men!” the King bellowed, his own sword drawn. “She is only a youngling.” Sir Davey ducked. She thrust her sword upward, striking nothing. “But she has fire, Sire!” “And you have shields!” I shouted from my place on the floor.

The Knight eyed me as though I had stepped on her birthday cake but tugged her shield from her back. She fastened it to her wrist, and soon most of the other knights followed.

Sir Grant—oh self-absorbed Sir Grant—raised his sword and slammed it against his shield. A metallic tin reverberated, and the wyvern tilted her scaled head, but she didn't seem scared but instead rather curious. And then I got an idea—which didn't happen often. Tugging off my left shoe, I rose to my feet and waved it. The wyvern turned toward me. Cold hands of dread wrapped around my chest, and I suddenly realised what I had done. Calling a wyvern to you—stupid, stupid idea!

She swooped down. I screamed, and I threw my shoe into the air. But instead of her talons capturing me, she caught my shoe and landed with a thump on the table.

Awes and awws replaced the shouting. The Knights stood peacefully and watched as the wyvern played like a kitten. Then Sir Grant had to ruin it.

“Let me end her, Sire!” he said. “No!” I dived in front, Sir Grant’s sword a hairsbreadth from slicing my neck. I gulped down some air, hid my trembling hands behind my back. “No. Apologies, My King,” I said, ignoring Sir Grant’s prize-winning scowl. “Please, let me save it. She’s only young.” The wyvern mewed, and she flipped onto her back, kicking my jingling shoe up into the air with her feet. Beneath the gold of her scales, her heart thumped. “See, she only wishes to play.”

The King rested his hand on Sir Grant’s sword, lowering it to the ground. “You have a kind heart, Jester,” he said. His brow furrowed, and he rubbed his grey-bearded chin almost comically. “I will allow it,” The King said, so softly I almost hadn't heard it. “What!” I blurted, and Sir Grant rolled his eyes. “I mean... thank you, My King. I will take her somewhere far away. Somewhere safe.”

Strangely, Sir Cal smiled and offered me a lengthy stretch of golden rope—a curtain tie—, and I had to stop myself from flinching away. Carefully, I fastened it around the wyvern’s belly, behind her wings. Perhaps I wouldn't lace his moring Earl Grey with pepper.

Removing my other belled shoe, I shook it. The wyvern’s head shot up. Her beady eyes followed my hand, and she kicked my other shoe away, leaping into the air. I took a step around the table, and she followed, the wind from her wings twisting up turrets of hair. A laugh bubbled from my lips. I was walking an actual wyvern.

Sir Lou stepped out of my way, fingered the chewed edges of his red cape. “Where is the goat?” I asked.

A high pitch squawking bleat echoed from the corridor. A woman screamed, and something crashed. The goat had escaped.
Again.

“Teddy, no!” Mom cried, lunging after our little golden doodle as he snuck past us and into the storage room.

Teddy, as usual too blissfully stupid to realize what he was doing wrong, skidded and slipped on the concrete floor, his nails scrabbling for purchase. He failed and slammed into one of the towers of cardboard boxes that dominated the storage room. It wobbled ominously.

“Teddy, get over here,” I said, hoping my calmer voice would convince him to get out before something fell.

Instead, he slipped again as he climbed to his paws, and fell back against the already teetering tower of boxes and plastic containers.

Mom and I both screamed as everything began to fall, rushing forward to try and catch the boxes before they hit the ground. Teddy yelped and slipped through our feet as he tried to escape. I tripped over him, falling onto my face and failing miserably at catching the box in front of me.

Eventually, the dust settled. Several of the boxes had burst open, scattering clothes and books everywhere. Teddy was now watching us from the doorway, wagging his tail stupidly as he watched us get to our feet.

“Teddy, you idiot,” Mom groaned, before turning and starting to pack up the boxes. She paused, and picked up a nearby shirt. “Hey, here’s the blouse I was looking for.”

I sighed and started to pack up the books.

I wake up to the heavy weight of my dog, Cerberus being absent from my feet. I look at my alarm clock that now reads 3:30am . It’s early, I thought, perhaps he had just needed to go outside I shrug it off and lay back down and doze back off. When I wake up it is now 6:30am, I get dressed in my usual suit and tie and head down to eat some toast. Cerberus is still absent, I have no clue where he is at the moment. I make my way downstairs and meet my fellow colleagues Fredrick the element of Fire, Aaron the element of Air, Lyson the element of Light and our Leader, William the element of Water, and Natalia the element of Nature were all sitting around the table chatting and eating. “Hey have any of y’all seen Cerberus?” I questioned. They all share a suspicious look until they all settle on Fredrick. He chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his neck, “Well you see Em, I kinda took him out on a walk and he saw a squirrel and he kinda took off.” He hesitated trailing off at the end. “You what?!” I yell. Cerberus is a legit killing machine! “Ok, well you do know where he is don’t you?” I clarified trying to stay calm and rational. He stayed silent and looked down onto the floor. “Fredrick you DO know where he is right?” I insisted. “No” he muttered . “I am fully convinced that you did NOT pass kindergarten.” I insulted “You’re telling me that you let a 364 pound demon out onto the streets that will kill anything and everything that moves and you DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS?!” I yelled now losing all sense of control, the rooms lights now flickering on and off by the overwhelming power. “We’ll find I just know of it!” Natalia reassured. I let out a sigh and sent some changings to go and fetch the puppy. Fredrick started to walk off and attempt to disappear into the shadows when I had sent a shadow into him making him fly into the wall. “Oh No, I’m not done with you just yet!” I warned. A few hours later a changling came back with a hyper demon on its trail. I whistled and it sprinted over toward me with its head down. “Oh you’re not in trouble my dear” I cooed patting his head. It went over to sniff Fredricks unconscious body……oh well.

A giddy neigh slipped through Gretchen’s lips as she remembered the exchange between her and her master (master’s son really) earlier this morning. The young boy had snuck into the stables and unlatched her stable doors. He had been planning to escape the village before the first ship left the docks for the day. Sade, Gretchen’s groomer, had been talking non stop about his desire to visit the capital and watch the princes coronation. But of course, in the days leading up to it the multiple arguments and fights that occurred in the stables proved that there was no way his parents would allow him to go.

While technically Sades father, Master Jonathon, was Gretchen’s true master, Gretchen had grown quite fond of his son, the stable boy, instead. It was Sade who would sneak into the stables at the middle of the night and give her apples, Sade who took her riding in her favourite pastures west of the river, and Sade who spent hours talking to her while the other horses neighed and brayed like brainless animals.

Sade was her true master, her best friend, and her confidant. Which is exactly why Gretchen would be doing him a massive favour tonight.

The young boy had come to greet her this morning and upon doing so, lifted the rusted latch of the stable door with a sly smile on his face.

“Okay, Gretch, listen up. I’m going to ‘accidentally’”- he had said, his fingers raised in mock quotation, “leave the stable door unlatched. It’s up to you what you do from here on out, but it would be super helpful and awfully noble of you as my trusty stead to escape and cause a distraction in the village so I can escape. But again, it’s up to you what you do with this information”, he finished. Though his words were carefully phrased, Gretchen had understood him completely. This was her chance to finally prove to him that she was just as good a friend to him as he was to her.

Sade wanted a distraction and Gretchen was prepared to give him just that.

Gretchen let out a loud bray, one filled with equal parts excitement and equal parts mischief. The minute Sade left the stables Gretchen dug her hooves into the ground, eager to sprint towards the market square.

3…..2…..1…

Then she was off, bounding towards the route she knew never to follow- the route that led to the village square bazaar.

The sweet scent of roasted nuts filled the air, accompanied by something that smelled a lot like… a lot like caramel apples! Gretchen’s stomach gave a lurch of excitement and she picked up her pace, hooves clicking as they hit the cobbled streets of the village. People lucky enough to spot her in time lunged out of her path, their bodies catching on those standing idly to the side. They lay in heaps, watching Gretchen with wide, fearful eyes. Gretchen’s mane, left unbound by Sade this morning, rippled in the wind, a streak of chocolate fire that followed her blazing path. She couldn’t care less that she was causing a ruckus, in fact, she almost enjoyed the attention.

Gretchen moved blindly, thrashing into carts filled with florals picked from the fields and knocking down tables piled high with colourful fabrics.

“What the-“

“Is that a horse?!”

“Somebody saddle that thing; it’s gone wild!”

Gretchen’s ears perked at the sounds of their complaints. Oh how she loved being the apple of everyone’s eyes.

Gretchen was on her way to the pottery vendor, intrigued by the colourful plates sitting on his table, when a new sensation filled her senses.

It was the caramel apples again! Their sweet, heady aroma filling her body with warmth and desire. Immediately, Gretchen abandoned her course, her attention now solely on those caramel apples. She turned towards the source of the scent, nostrils glaring in delight.

By now most of the villagers had congregated in the village centre to gawk at the escaped horse. Few of the village men stalked towards her, ropes in their hands as if they were ready to bridle her. But Gretchen was a smart and crafty horse, born from the bravest of stallions and the trickiest of mares. There was no way she was going to let those ropes anywhere near her. Gretchen dodged out of their way, crashing into crates that released plumes of powdery white flour into the air.

Gretchen glanced around the city with wide eyes, avoiding the terrified and irritated looks cast from the villagers. Finally, her eyes landed on the small wooden stall that housed the candy apple maker and his two kids. Gretchen gnashed her teeth hungrily and picked up her pace as she neared the stand.

The last thing she saw before she prepared to demolish the candy apple stand was Sade. He was crouched in the back of one of the wagons, hidden amongst the crates heading for the dock. The driver of the wagon worked hard to avoid Gretchen and head to the docks. He was eager to get his shipment, and unbeknownst to him, Sade, to the docks before the ship left.

Sade lifted a hand to his brow and saluted in Gretchen’s direction, an impish and proud smile on his face. Gretchen tossed her head in his direction, a signal for him to enjoy his adventure without her.

As the wagon found its way towards the main road Gretchen cast her eyes around the decimated village around her. She figured her job was done now, her distraction having served it’s purpose.

But that sticky caramel and fresh green apple scent still hung in the air. Gretchen decided that though her role was complete, there was no use wasting her first- and last- moment of freedom. With a newfound determination fuelling her hooves, Gretchen marched on towards the caramel apple stand, ignoring Master Jonathons commands hot on her heels.