Mollie looked at the broad wooden planks along the roof of the barn. Her eyes drifted to her remaining sugar cubes and then to her ribbons. As she lay there in her bed of hay, she felt a surge of self-pity. She missed the delightful things Mr. Jones used to do for her, comb and intertwine ribbons into her beautiful, lustrous mane. Feed her sugar cubes. Take her to horse shows, where she would be envied for her beauty. She could play in the field and doze near the daisies and buttercups. She missed the farmer, more or less the opportunities he provided for her. She went over to her water trough. There was enough water to reflect her face, ivory fur and chocolate eyes, enough to make the young stallions drool. But what was it equivalent to, if any? Looks or beauty wouldn't matter any more, it was a new farm. She was going to have to commit to strenuous labor as a horse. She wished she had been born the enemy, being a human had its privileges. They just sat around all day and looked pretty. The men read maxim and had beers. The women just had to sew and make themselves look elegant for parties. She could have even married a farmer or stable hand. Again she looked to the rafters, as if looking for a sign from sugar candy mountain itself. She wished it came in the form of a sugar cube, she had been caving them, and she had almost run out. She dug herself deeper into the warm straw, the smell of hay wafting into her nose, causing a joyous sensation. The scent lulled her, like ghosts of the past, memories came flooding back to her. Mr. Jones, or a sober Mr. Jones, looked at her and said, "what a gorgeous colt, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," as he stroked her mane, caked in dirt from playing with her brothers and sisters, "finest in the entire litter, probably", he had said. Unaware of how vain it made her. When he sold all the horses because of cost, he didn't sell her or boxer, and clover was reliable for having more colts, so he would never sell her. She often pondered when the revolution was planned, where her loyalties stood. She loved Mr. Jones like an animal could only love a human, for food and shelter. She loved the animals for another reason, they were her family and the keepers of her sanity, well, and clover was. But she had been given an offer to go to another farm, and be a show horse. Mollie had been in a show before, where she had beat out the other horses one by one. She enjoyed competing, but she enjoyed the dolling up more than anything, which proved how foolishly she was acting about herself. But she did profit of her beauty. Not that she minded, If it was for her own benefit.
Mollie overlaid the countless information in her head.
She decided to go meet the interested farmer, as a quick solution, of which she would prosper. As foolish as it was, it was an exceptional decision, for soon the farm would become a place where no animal would like to be.