Chapter Text
Under the cover of dusk, Benjamin took a hesitant step beyond the threshold of his quarters. Surely nobody would hear his muffled trotting through the patchy grass as the crickets chirped their sweet lullaby over the farm pastures.
As he approached Boxer's stable, he began to steel himself; not because he expected to be confronted, but rather because he knew what dreary words awaited him upon his arrival. Words that would leave lacerations in his soul, and their spilling blood would evaporate in an instant to become a miasma of misery overhead. He had attempted to console and assuage himself in the recesses of his mind prior to this moment, though such openness for pondering and quelling of the nerves only brought deep rumination, and he had never felt so distraught.
Napoleon had his dogs posted up outside the Berg-- a contemptuous moniker he had kindled unto the Farmhouse-- their salivating jaws provided a modicum of sustenance to the dehydrated soils below. Benjamin dared not move an inch as their heads cocked his way every now and again; he swore they could see him, but refused to react. This was stupid, and he knew it.
But he was waiting for him.
"Boxer..?" *Benjamin rasped in a hushed tone, attempting to pull Boxer from his slumber; however, there was no response from the eigengrau. He tried again-- nothing came. Panic began to set in.
Could he step inside? Of course, Boxer would likely be okay with it-- they were best friends, after all-- but something felt off about not having assured permission from the sedulous horse. He hesitated for a moment, but as he turned to look back, the dogs cocked their heads in his direction. Once more, Benjamin waited for them to turn back in agonizing silence. Seconds passed. They remained steadfast in their unwavering gaze. Benjamin didn't back down, however, maintaining his stance in tandem with their shooting daggers. Then, just as one appeared as though it was about to lurch forward, something curled around Benjamin's ankle and pulled, attempting to usher him inside. Benjamin immediately recognized the tender, yet firm grip of his close friend, but he remained still. Boxer could not see the dogs; even if he were able to peer outside, his vision had been failing him as of late. The horse yanked with a bit more tenacity this time, but Benjamin refused to budge, lest he become dog chow.*
"Benjamin," Boxer inquired with evident worry pervading his speech, "What are you doing out here in the cold? Come inside."
But he couldn't-- not now, anyway. The dogs were still looking at him, ostensibly. Benjamin blinked. Were they still fixated on his position? Their bulbous eyes refused to be flecked with moonlight any longer if they were, and that thought perhaps perturbed the poor, cynical donkey more than anything. The image of emotionless, famished black voids peering into his soul flashed across his brain.
"Boxer, stop," *he hissed, attempting to have the horse concede his game of relentless tugging. It did not end. Boxer continued, the oaf he was; he continued.
"Benjamin, please. I would not wish for you to contract something nasty," he whined, "Please come inside; I can warm us both."
Benjamin swallowed at the invitation; his futile endeavors to subdue his quaking were in vain now. It was only now that he noticed his knees clacking together. What an inconvenience!
The dogs' ears perked up; any sense of blitheness in their demeanor had dissipated right before Benjamin's eyes. They knew; they knew he was there.
"Benjamin?" *Boxer began to pull back, his grip growing looser. There was a hint of palpable melancholy in his voice as the donkey's name fell from his tongue and splattered into the mud below. Benjamin began to back away, an action that seemed to exacerbate the situation in the horse's mind. He exhaled.*
"Apologies, my friend. Perhaps I was a bit too forward."
Despite his current situation, the donkey's eyes still shifted back to meet Boxer's dejected expression. The horse felt a foreboding, looming burning behind his eyes. Benjamin knew this sight. He wanted to drop it all, to reach out and comfort his friend, to do anything-- and he almost did.
Then, the dogs snarled.
They were right in front of him, razors gnashing, ready to pounce.