No animal did what was done to the last foal
No animal cures meat
There was no point in reporting it to the police
Nothing would be done on their end
You and the farm hands return to your property and prepare for the coming night’s attack
You go to the main house and enter grandpa’s old room
You hadn’t been in here since his death some years prior
You open the gun safe and retrieve his old “Chicago typewriter”
From within
You place your lever action carbine within and lock the safe
You leave the room lock the door behind you
The Thompson had a stick magazine rather than the iconic drum mag seen in old gangster flicks
Significantly less ammo capacity
But a lighter and easier to handle gun as a result
Night comes and you you wait with bated breath as the hours tick by with nothing of interest happening
Then around 4am you hear it
Distorted but unmistakable
mumma wub babbies
You shoulder the Thompson
babbies wub mumma
“Lights! Now!”
One of the farm hands throws the switch and in an instant light cascades across the pathway leading to the pin
Dwink aww da miwkies.
You line up your shot
Gwow big an stwong.
You pull the trigger
The shot echoes across the farm
It keeps moving forward despite being hit
You pull the trigger again
It keeps advancing
Shot after shot rings out
9 shots
9 shots directly to center of mass
And it finally falls to the ground
You , your two sisters and 5 farm hands approach the body with weapons ready
What you saw On the ground made your blood run cold