The Magical Herd

So, it was the night of All Hallow's Eve, probably all year 'round in this place. Sure enough, even as you thought this, the darkness was filled with a thick fog, which kind of went along with everything else so far. You were forced to walk with your hands out in front of you to avoid walking into things. You tried not to think of the true forms of the things you touched. Some slimy, some smooth and hard. At least a few you could identify as trees. Not that they were any safer.

The next was warm, soft and fuzzy. The dark mare turned so you could gaze into her fiery eye, her mane flipped over the other one.

She snarled and shook herself, obviously not pleased with having been touched by you. Nor did she seemed pleased that you'd been able, inadvertantly of course, to sneak up on her in her own domain. You hoped she was part of the group that believed they shouldn't hunt on this one particular night of the year.

Just then, the black male took vague form in the mist. The female responded immediately, rubbing herself up against him, licking his fur and nuzzling his mane. One by one the others materialized before you, fading in and out as the mist flowed by. The dark mare went to the second male when she spotted him, offering the same kinds of attentions. The other females sneered, but the males seemed quite content.

"Harlot," the white mare muttered, at least that's what it sounded like. She obviously didn't want the males to hear this.