Are you what they call a war... horse?

Short legs pull the donkey through the metal strewn field, Oscar’s board head turning every which way as he goes. The ass had needed to travel a little further south in an attempt to warm up. His herd mates might be built for the cold but this Irish donkey is not. His curly fuzzy pelt stands out in stark contrast against the landscape, a cream and caramel strip among the rusted metal and grass. Nugget sits on his rump, hanging onto the hair that runs along the donkey’s spine while the rooster keeps his head tucked underneath a wing.

The donkey is so enthralled with various shapes and sizes of the metals, that Oscar completely misses the presence of the huge wolf that explores nearby. Walking up to a rather large chunk of metal that is semi-buried, he picks up one of his small hooves and taps it against the derelict beast. It clangs loudly in the quiet area and he gawks at the massive thing while pondering what the hell this thing could be… all while blissfully unaware of the lurking wolf.


"Oscar Monaghan"