In two more months, he would get out. In two more months, she was going back to hell.
Hugging her notebook, she walked the few feet it took to grab the crumpled wad of paper off the floor. She tried to smooth out her notes and cast Pony a dark look as she did it. Pony’s fists were clenched, but her bottom lip was shaking. She looked close to tears, but Pony was Ethen’s right hand. She hadn’t been his favorite, not in a long time. But for as long as Puppy had been part of the menagerie, Pony was the submissive in charge. She was the one who kept them in line. She had never apologized. Judging by the flash of her eyes and the set of her jaw, she wasn’t about to start now, either. Casting her mutinous glare to the floor, Puppy searched for her pen. She had to get down on hands and knees, but she finally found it under the soda vending machine. She barely managed to get her fingers under far enough to fish it back out again. Pushing back up off her knees, she stood, turned, and nearly bumped straight into Ethen. “When the rooster’s away, it seems the hens become bitches,” he noted, giving both her and Pony the same reproving frown.
