Facing MacMoo

“How dare you!” exclaimed Minister MacMoo. “We do not tolerate that sort of behavior. It’s grounds for dismissal!”

But Bull-on-Fire did not care. This was the time. The Leche Prophecy had dictated his life work for the past twelve years. He often doubted it and came terrifyingly close to abandoning it several times. But that was all in the past, he thought. On his face was a wind grin. His hooves ground into the soft dirt below him. His horns shot into the sky proudly. He was kissed on every side by tall orange flames, whose smoke and ash blotted out the sun, leaving Bull-on-Fire’s silhouette against the now-dark sky.

Minister MacMoo had had enough. “Arrest him!” he shouted. But before the words had even reached the twitching ears of the Bovine Guard, Bull-on-Fire had begun his stampede. His horns were lowered menacingly forward and his eyes reflected the flames behind him. He yellow-tinted teeth were bared, his mouth watering.

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