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// Next Time on Iota Force... 
// Story: Iota Force Issue #3: The Treachery of Images 
// by The Iguana Man 
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Nope, nope, cold and open, cold and open, bad, don't like, not gonna, nope.

The colt hovered at the edge of the forest, fidgeting in agitation and staring out into the open space before him as if it was going to leap forward and swallow him up. The small town with its little houses seemed harmless enough, but the wide open space between the town and the forest stretched out like a gaping chasm.

Have to go, can't go, have to go, friends won't like cold, Skrik won't like cold, can't go, have to go.

He reached a hoof out beyond the treeline for a split second before pulling it back like it was about to be bitten.

Maybe new home will be better, can't go back, big ones didn't like, don't know, have to know, can't know.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud rumble from above. Looking up, the colt's pupils shrunk as he saw a truly colossal amount of snow start to plummet towards the ground and towards him.

Giving off a high-pitched shriek, the colt dashed forward, not turning around to check if his friends were following. He looked around frantically to find a way into his new home.

Where is where is where is where is THERE!

Swerving, the colt sprinted towards a metal grate on the corner of the street. Fortunately, no one was around to see him as he pulled the grate out of the ground and dived in. He slid down the passage and turned around to see that he had been just in time. No sooner had the last of his friends poured into the entryway than the entrance was blocked by a thick layer of snow, cutting off the fresh air and putting the passage into complete darkness.

Not that the colt cared – he was used to this kind of place. Enjoyed it, even. This would definitely work as a new home.

Friends are safe, Skrik is safe, have new home.

He smiled as his friends swarmed all over him, chittering and squealing.