From above, the wicked shall receive their just reward
Kronk beamed, and for a moment, he looked like a little boy. He had been too serious recently, bogged down in a tumult of useless, self castigating thoughts. In every aspect, he was trying to do better, trying to be better. Right now, as he chuckled happily, he felt the weight of responsibility lift. He hadn’t realized how heavy the burden had been until it was gone. He smiled at the mare, suddenly a little shy now that the excitement of the moment had faded. He looked at her from beneath hooded, chocolate eyes and cleared his throat a little self consciously.
“Ah well, you loosened it up for me.” He smiled again, self consciousness lifting beneath the pleasure of easy banter. He decided then that the sting in his fetlock was definitely worth it, and he stood up a light straighter. No it wasn’t much, but at least he had helped a little in the small way he could.
She commented on the snow, and Kronk chuckled again. He tended to eat anything he could get his lips around in winter. It took a lot of energy, to keep his chunky body going. But, slushy ice did leave something to be desired.
“You’ve got to be careful about that snow, you never know where it’s been.” He winked conspiratorially and grinned. He wasn’t entirely sure if girls found jokes like that funny. He hoped so, because most his jokes were like that. Army boys tended to acquire a certain type of humor, and unfortunately, Kronk was no exception. But still, from beneath his goofy grin manners began to appear. His expression turned a little more serious as he came back to himself.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Maeko.” And it was, if only to stop and laugh a little. He continued, a little hesitantly, for he didn’t want to seem too forward.
“Are you hungry too? We have fantastic grass, in the Gates, clover too, and a beautiful garden —“ Kronk abruptly cut off, his expression turning tragic. They had a beautiful garden. But, no longer. It was a wreckage now, a burning mass of regret and disappointment. He tried to wipe the stricken look from his face.
“Ah well, never mind, but there is grass, and clover.” The Gates still had greenery, even in the deepest of winter. Kronk, himself, had been recruited the promise of delicious clover. It had not disappointed. Granted, Kronk would never admit that this loyalty began with the promise of of food.
Kronk
