Kintla Flatlands dies irae, dies illa

"yew want me to roll in that stinkin' offal?" maggie's tone was taken aback. she scowled openly at the would-be cull, shaking her head. 
and then she stopped, and looked slyly at the figure. for a moment the goldcoin of the gaze burning back at her turned the ice of her own to smoke. "fine, then," maggie retorted, and threw herself across the beast.
she swore, but true as dirt rolled back and forth until her shoulders and one flank were stained a brilliant, steaming red.