Anna was [still fucking dead. But Pawnee was not ready to let her friend go. The township began to perform CPR on Anna’s body. Pam, an expert on corpses, knew it was too late, but she decided that this gesture, futile as it was, might be a part of Pawnee’s grieving process, so she left her alone.] The sound of fire engine sirens pierced the air. It [aroused] the ponies. They [[filthy colloquialisms for horse sex omitted]] up and down the paddock. Pam and [Pawnee] were startled, too. But they were glad the firefighters were there. Anna’s father was a volunteer firefighter. [Pawnee] hoped that he and the other firefighters could [revive her friend. She stood and said thus aloud to Pam. Pam envied Pawnee’s optimism and innocence.] Pam and [Pawnee watched the firefighters approach Anna’s body. One knelt down, removed his thick glove, and felt Anna’s neck for a pulse. He found none. He rose and shook his head at the two girls. Pawnee began to sob. Pam’s expression of grim determination didn’t so much as flicker. “I will find that fucking cat,” she said through gritted teeth, “and I will crush its fucking head between my hands. Its brain-nectars will be the emotional Purel that will disinfect my soul of its grief.” Pawnee stopped crying for long enough to take a wineskin full of gin out from her boot and drain it in one gulp. She had a serious problem. Acorn and the cat watched as the firefighters extinguished the blaze. Without the violent light of the fire, the night seemed suddenly claustrophobic. Now the sky was illuminated only by the cooler, paler fires of the moon, the stars, and the flashing lights on the assembled emergency vehicles. The snow no longer fell in individual sparkling flakes; it was a single heavy sheet of grey and cold that pushed down on Acorn with the cumulative weight of centuries of snow that had already fallen on his defiant shoulders. But Acorn was no Atlas. He could not hold the weight forever. Both he and the cat were acutely aware of this fact. The fire trucks pulled away. The moon continued to shine. The snow continued to fall. “I’m not going with you,” Acorn said at last. The cat licked one of its white paws nonchalantly. “I know.” Acorn lunged forward and bit off the cat’s head with one snap of his mighty jaws. The cat’s body toppled from the fencepost to the ground, and Acorn spat out the severed head beside it.] #DetectivePony #EridanWeek