It is a terrible thing, the hunting of wild shoes for their horns, for the teasing and torture of their captive cousins. A mule in the wilderness, or a beastly boot, going about their business, displaying their battle spears as trophies of good breeding. Ensnared and enslaved, their keratinous appendages lopped off, taken home. Brogues cower in the shadows. Violated by their captor’s crammed limbs, then ridiculed by the polished ends of their enemies.