hand crushed by a mallet

For a prey animal, Oscar can be… loud. Which, in a fight, is good! But any other time, not so much. His nose isn’t as sharp as a wolf’s so he can’t sniff them out but he does have exceptional hearing, when he… you know… stops to listen. But the ass needs to find his rooster and, in the darkness, he is left to play a game of Marco Polo to try and figure out which direction to go. Needless to say, the donkey does not know there is another here until a voice croons out from the dark.

Squinting against the dark (because that will work), Oscar tries to determine what kind of creature is talking. Ah hell, what does it matter? If it had wanted to eat him it could have already. Huffing out a sigh, the defeated ass says, “Nugget’s my rooster. Lil’ bastard went to go explore without me. Last place I saw him was squeeze into here. Have ye seen a bird waddlin’ around?” Oscar snorts at himself, thinking that the word see might have been the best choice of  a word in this black abyss.

Small hooves move, unintentionally sending rocks skittering away to clatter loudly in the room. A small, winged creature dives at the donkey’s head, causing him to duck and shy away and he expects to bump his butt into a wall. However, where there is a narrow tunnel on one side, this room seems bigger and Oscar wonders just how big it is. Speaking up again, he says, “Name’s Oscar, by the by. Thanks for ye offer.” A grin is offered but if the stranger can see it, is unknown to him.


"Oscar Monaghan"