Biting’s excellent. It’s like kissing, only there’s a winner.

The veridian-coloured mare wandered the meadow, as she would other places. She knows abuot the Plague of course but, how bad could it be? Surely, those who has it would survive. If they died too quickly from it, it wouldn’t spread so fast.

And of course, there would be fights over the safe lands, so she didn’t think that was the place to go.

She steered clear of most obviously-sick horses, of course. But mostly she was just living her normal, peaceful life, and being less peaceful to other horses in her spare time.

When some young, sickly-looking cremello (bleak as ever, especially compared to Maiko’s veridian coat and pink streaks) walked across the meadow and right into her own grazing path, she came to a halt with a surprised snort and then irritated slash of her tail against her hock; ears falling back when she realized she had nearly touched the sick girl. ”Ew, you. Contain yerself, ugly babe.” she bitches, stepping back to avoid her.

She wasn’t sure how contagious it was, perhaps she was already doomed now, but she couldn’t be sure what these dumb horses that had heeded the god’s call had unleashed, and perhaps it wasn’t too late yet.

Biting’s excellent. It’s like kissing, only there’s a winner.

She is not every other mare.

She’d been broken at a young age - even this filly just assumed that she would be adored if she pouted long enough and oh, hadn’t she tried waving her bright blue eyes at bystanders who might take her in. But nobody ever did. Mares would have their own to care about, or would think she stood out too much. Maybe she was indeed, ugly like the sick girl said.

But after over a decade of this stupid life she had reached her point of no return. The girl can have her little win. Not like Maiko would care. She just backs up slowly, inch by inch, trying not to get noticed she’s shuffling away. The girl sneezes blood, oh she has it bad, brr.

And then she changes and puts up her puppy eye face.

”Think that’s gun’ work on me?” snorting, she stomps her hoof on the grass. ”I don’t think ye’re ugly, I know. You’re rottin’ darlin’. Falling apart. So - leave me alone, bloody hairless zombie.” She shakes herself for good measure, hairs remaining rather upright, and takes another step back.