(2) Pasture Adventures

It began innocently, as most disasters do. A squirrel, small and furry but bold, darted down the trunk of an oak tree ahead of them. Blue snorted and jumped a little as the creature skittered between her hooves. “It’s like he wants to be friends,” she laughed.

Rust‑Ez watched calmly. “Just don’t startle it.”

Hela narrowed her eyes. “He’s planning something.”

“It’s a squirrel,” Rust‑Ez said.

“They’re crafty,” Hela hissed.

Blue snaked her head down to peer at it. “Hello! Good morning!” The dark-colored squirrel stared at her in disbelief.

Hela kept staring. “I don’t trust him.”

“It’s literally a rodent,” Rust‑Ez chuckled.

The squirrel chittered aggressively, glaring at the horses before scrounging around in the snow for several seconds.

Hela jerked back. “See! He insulted me!”

“He chirped.”

“In a tone.”

Blue blinked. “Do squirrels have tones?”

“Yes!” Hela said dramatically. “And that one was rude.”

The squirrel tossed a piece of bark at her, chattering again.

“See? It’s a threat,” Hela snorted.

Rust‑Ez sighed. “Please don’t chase the squirrel.” But Hela was already lunging at the creature, which was chirping mockingly at her while hopping through a snow drift.

“Hela!” Rust‑Ez shouted.

Blue danced out of the way. “Adventure!”

The squirrel panicked and fled across the pasture, Hela charging behind him like a vengeance‑powered war machine.

Rust‑Ez galloped after her. “STOP TERRORIZING THE LOCAL WILDLIFE!”

Blue followed, yelling, “HI LITTLE SQUIRREL YOU’RE DOING SO GREAT KEEP GOING, DON’T LET HER CATCH YOU-”

The squirrel launched itself up a fence post and vanished over the rails.

Hela skidded to a halt, tail whipping, breath puffing like a dragon denied her hoard. “Coward,” she muttered. “Face me next time.”

Rust‑Ez caught up, wheezing. “Why are you like this?”

“He started it.”

Blue bounced beside them. “That was fun! We should chase some more!”

“No,” Rust‑Ez breathed. “No, it was not.”

Hela flicked her tail and shrugged. “I feel fulfilled.”

However, they returned to a more civilized pace and Rust-Ez led them this time, toward the other end of the pasture.

Hela strutted like she had defeated a great foe.

“We could go to the pond,” Blue suggested cheerfully. “It’s beautiful in the morning.”

Hela stiffened. “No. Absolutely not. It’s muddy.”

Blue did not care. “Come on!”

And she took off at a joyful trot which prompted Rust-Ez to follow with a nicker, though he glanced back at Hela. “If she falls in…”

“She’ll fall in,” Hela said confidently. “And I’m not going in there to help her.”

They followed her anyway, because leaving Blue unsupervised was a hazardous choice. By the time they reached the pond, Blue was already leaning over the edge, watching for the fish, despite the ice glazing the pond lightly.

“Maybe it’s strong enough this morning,” she said hopefully. “I’ve always wanted to try skating on it like the stable boys do.”

Rust-Ez shook his head, “That’s a terrible idea. We’re much heavier and-”

But Blue was already stepping out onto the ice. Her hoof slipped, she wavered unsteadily, and then there was a crack and a splash.

“Blue!” Rust‑Ez surged forward.

Water flew everywhere. Blue flailed with all the grace of a capsized boat.

“It’s COLD!” she wailed.

Hela leaned over and grabbed Blue’s tail with her teeth, hauling her backward like a parent retrieving a toddler from a fountain.

Blue stumbled onto land, dripping and offended. “My dignity is shattered.”

Hela snorted. “You had dignity?”

Rust‑Ez shook his head. “You’re going to catch a chill.”

Blue sneezed dramatically. “I already have.”

Hela rolled her eyes. “You’ll live.”

Blue trotted over, still shaking water from her tail. “I think today has been a wonderful day!”

“You fell in a pond,” Hela reminded.

“And I learned from the experience!”

“What exactly did you learn?” Hela asked.

“That mud is slippery. And cold. But still very fun.”

“Yes, but now you’re covered in it, and your stable boy isn’t going to be very happy that he has to get it out of your fetlocks," Rust‑Ez laughed. 

Hela snagged some grass and pretended she wasn’t laughing too. But as she lifted her head, she spotted a strange lump near the fence line.

“What’s that?”

Blue barely got close enough to see it was a smug, wandering, escaped chicken from the farm beyond the pasture before, with a squawk, it skittered away and watched them, clucking threateningly.

Hela’s eyes narrowed. “I hate chickens. They’re tiny feathered menaces.”

Blue glared. “It’s staring at me.”

“It’s plotting,” Hela agreed.

Rust‑Ez positioned himself between them. “No one charges the chicken.”

The chicken clucked threateningly again before returning to peck at the ground.

Hela pawed the snow. “I’ll end him.”

“No,” Rust‑Ez warned.

“He deserves it.”

“NO.”

But the chicken, deciding it had had enough of equine dramatics, fluttered its wings and charged them instead.

Hela spun, outraged. “HOW DARE YOU CHALLENGE ME, YOU FEATHERED RAT-” She charged back at it, but the chicken quickly escaped under the fence and wandered off.

Hela stomped. “I will avenge this insult.”

Rust‑Ez groaned. “Please don’t.”

***

By the time Niklaus returned a few hours later, all three horses were exhausted from their escapades.

Niklaus eyed them suspiciously. “What did you do?”

Hela shrugged, her muscles rippling. Blue looked away guiltily, and Rust-Ez snorted.

Just a little bit of chaos, Hela nickered.

Niklaus stared. “I should not have left you three unsupervised.”

No, Rust-Ez agreed. No you should not have. But it was fun anyway.