From above, the wicked shall receive their just reward
Once upon a time Kronk had liked strangers. Once upon a time, he had welcomed them. That had changed significantly in this past year. He felt old, though he was far from middle aged. He felt like a man who had too much time on his hands and too many worries. But still, beneath the lined, burdened face of the man he had become, there was the kind boy he had been. There was the boy who would have seen a strange mare and welcomed her. He would have been glad to see her, would have shown her the closest clover and fresh water.
The boy’s heart beat faster at the sound of her whinny. To him in sounded worried, high pitched and yet soft. After a little searching, he found her waiting near the outskirts of the Gates. The boy would have immediately run to her, but the man made him wait. He watched the stranger for a second, taking in her soft rounded face and her hurt leg. After a moment Kronk sighed.
He had become hard. Somedays, he was worried that he was also becoming cruel. Feeling like a damn fool, he dropped his hellfire and damnation act and approached her, eyes weary. He took in her appearance, again critical, and spoke after a moment.
“If you want that healed you’re in the wrong kingdom.” Indeed, a mare with a hurt leg would have done better to wander into the Falls and plead for their help. Kronk had no healing water to offer her. He had no blessed garden to sooth her. The stallion ground his teeth, reminding himself that he was being ungracious. Another moment passed and he sighed, feeling like an ass.
“I’m Kronk.” Still, he said it almost reluctantly. He didn’t know why he had a squirming feeling in his belly. He didn’t know why he felt like something was watching him, from high up in the trees. The stallion looked around, feeling both paranoid and crazy. What was it? This feeling he could not shake?
Kronk
