Drama Mares
“What are you doing?”
“Knitting elephants.”
What did it look like I was doing, rushing back and forth between the stainless steel counters?
Double-Fourteen, face marked from her bridle and hair wet from the shower, sashayed across the kitchen in that feline flow of hers. Nothing indicated that she was still badge-sore from her welcome branding last week. Or that she was minding the preparation of supper all about her.
“How’s your burn?” I asked more out of courtesy than of curiosity whilst pulling a load of freshly-cleaned food trays from the commercial washer. In ten minutes time three hungry scores of ponygirls would be marching into the mass hall. Continue reading
Stories by Venom
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