Gods In A Ghost Town

Ingrid

Ingrid stood quietly while the unicorn spoke of the Wild God. He didn't say much, but he paused frequently to let each each phrase linger in the air.
A poet, she mused. She wasn't sure what to make of him yet, but he was entertaining. She waited for him to finish before firing off a sarcastic comment. "Waking up trapped in a new realm? I wonder what that’s like..." she said bitterly. “That really does sound dreadful, though. And strange, too. Thank you for telling us.”

Ingrid noticed the brown mare had been looking at her, but the tribrid quickly turned back to the unicorn to ask if the god would mind the place being cleaned.
Oops. Too late, that ship has sailed. Ingrid almost snorted in laughter.
Then the mare continued, "A group of us have decided to meet here every half moon." Ingrid's ears flicked back for a moment.

Hey lady, could I get a definition for "us" please? You wanna use it in a sentence? Us equids in The Rift? Us Helovians? (She had to be, because a "herd" with "structure" was kind of a Helovian thing.)  Us as in those of us privileged enough to get invited to your bi-monthly book club?

Ingrid’s expression softened. She missed the company of her herd, and finding out that a new one was getting started without her knowing was bound to hurt a little. But she didn’t even know this mare, and Ingrid had been living in the middle of nowhere for a while now. It was good to hear that somebody was at least trying to take initiative and start a herd. The way the mare talked about the group implied that each move they made was carefully planned. Ingrid liked their odds.

Alright. I should probably try not to piss her off. I can do that… Maybe I just won’t talk.

I'm so sorry for the late post! I've been sick recently, and I had to miss a lot of school. Posting ended up near the bottom of my to-do list.