my existence is a sandal

Winter is most definitely the absolute worst season of the year. Being a barnyard animal, Oscar is not built for the long, cold, snowy winters in the northern reaches. However, everyone else in his herd is, which means that the small donkey is doomed to freeze his ass year after year. Sometimes he strays down toward the southern lands so that he can feel his short legs for a small amount of time before returning to his herd. Thankfully, the herd’s predator, Taiga, will snuggle up to him and share her warmth. Still, the ass doesn’t mind traveling out of the snow even if it is only for a few hours.

Nugget, the donkey’s rooster companion, sits perched on Oscar’s rump, feathers fluffed out and on high alert as the pair skirt the battlefield. The small ass knows that wolves often come here to spar or for challenges of… some sort. Honestly, the complexity of wolves and their packs escapes the prey animal but, since there is now a pack in their northern lands, the donkey should try to learn. As he thinks about it, a call for a sparring partner rings across the blood stain field and Oscar hesitates. Should he answer?

With a glance at Nugget, the ass decides to give it a shot and his hooves carry him into the battle stained place. Nostrils flare as he pulls into a trot, eager to find the wolf and try his hoof at battle, the donkey soon spies a cream and slate wolf. Oscar slows as he flashes a wide grin that shows off his flat teeth. Stopping across from the male, the donkey cocks a brow and, in thick Irish tones, asks, “You called?” He waits for the wolf’s reaction, wondering if he will be as gobsmacked as so many of the wolves in these lands seem to be when they meet a talking prey animal. Long ears flick as Nugget clucks toward the stranger, fluffing his feathers out further in preparation for a fight.


"Oscar Monaghan"