He is so wet. Lethy is for sure going to know something happened. Popinjay looks the colt over, briefly, appraising, but he seems unhurt. With a nod, then, she leads him further into the redwood forest, navigating east and up, it is damp going, with the fog and frequent rains, and centuries of fallen leaves and branches snaking through the undergrowth. But, at last, they are near. The trees, tight together and thick-trunked, suddenly break apart from one another, an expanse of clear sky shining down on what, to young eyes, appears to be a great canyon that stretches forever. In reality, it is a somewhat deep ravine with a dark, black creek trickling at it’s center, out of sight and hidden by a swirl of thorny bushes, and steep, rocky, sloped sides. The sun is thick, here, and the fog that snakes between the great trees on their level drifts and is caught in the updraft, is pulled away, writhing and dancing and glinting in the sun. Everything here glows, faintly gold, faintly green, except for that black creek below, and near where they have emerged from the trees, one great redwood has toppled, its crown easily reaching the other side.
Where the great tree once stood, an enormous hole has opened, a giant cavern that could easily swallow both foals, and hides its secrets in a darkness untouched by the sun. The smell of wet soil emanates from the mouth of the cave, and the dangling tendrils of its roots have already attracted gnats, which have attracted spiders. Silver webs spring up even as they watch.
When the tree fell, it had sounded like an explosion, it had sounded like nothing she had ever heard before, creaking and cracking for an eternity, and then a hush before the boom. It had echoed even in the Taiga, where the echoes are swallowed by tree trunks, and the ground had rumbled underfoot. Perhaps it was the nature of it’s landing, that the sound was amplified by the ravine, like holding a cup to your mouth. In its fall, the tree had destroyed surrounding saplings, which stood shattered, or were flung to the ground, digging into it, scarring the black earth. It was large, and big enough for the young horses to walk on, if they could find a way up. She had not had an opportunity to try, however, and the cavern was an amusing diversion.
For once, she says nothing, but grabs a nearby stick to swing through the air, fencing flies with a makeshift sword, while Owin take in the view before him.
Where the great tree once stood, an enormous hole has opened, a giant cavern that could easily swallow both foals, and hides its secrets in a darkness untouched by the sun. The smell of wet soil emanates from the mouth of the cave, and the dangling tendrils of its roots have already attracted gnats, which have attracted spiders. Silver webs spring up even as they watch.
When the tree fell, it had sounded like an explosion, it had sounded like nothing she had ever heard before, creaking and cracking for an eternity, and then a hush before the boom. It had echoed even in the Taiga, where the echoes are swallowed by tree trunks, and the ground had rumbled underfoot. Perhaps it was the nature of it’s landing, that the sound was amplified by the ravine, like holding a cup to your mouth. In its fall, the tree had destroyed surrounding saplings, which stood shattered, or were flung to the ground, digging into it, scarring the black earth. It was large, and big enough for the young horses to walk on, if they could find a way up. She had not had an opportunity to try, however, and the cavern was an amusing diversion.
For once, she says nothing, but grabs a nearby stick to swing through the air, fencing flies with a makeshift sword, while Owin take in the view before him.
Popinjay
She was not quite what you would call refined
