03-30-2018, 09:15 PM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
She introduces them, and Brennen only has half an ear for her, instead reaching out for the boys as they come forward at the word ‘father’, bold and curious. The bay is first, the one she names Dario, and Brennen lowers his muzzle to breath in the boy’s scent as the colt presses himself against Brennen’s legs, “Hello, Dario,” he responds to the quiet inquiry, and looks up to see the other twin, the green-and-wings-one, standing a little off but reaching for him as well. “And Drax,” he offers his nose to the boy in return, a gentle touch and then he ruffles the colt’s fluffy mane with a smile. “I am your daddy, and I’m so glad you are here,”
He guides them across the sand to a place where a wide, obvious path leads away from the shore into the jungle, moving at whatever pace the tired family dictates. He steps back alongside Umqra, letting the boys frolic ahead with a quiet warning not to get too far from the path, and flicks an ear to catch her quiet words, which draw a quick glance from Brennen thought he keeps a careful eye on the colts all the while. “You don’t have to be scared.” he murmurs a response just as quietly, “Ischia is one of the safest places I’ve ever known – and now there are two of us to keep up with them,” The first statement is firm and solid, because his islands are safer than most places he’s been. The second half is almost a question, a cautious frown forming on his face as he watches her out of the corner of his eye; she has not said who is staying, after all: all of them, none of them, just the boys?
Almost as soon as they enter the cover of the trees, there is a building noise of wings and strange calls, and the parrots begin to gather, looking down at the quartet of horses. The stallion smiles up at his feathered friends, almost grinning when a favorite green bird drops quickly to perch with its talons tangled in his mane. “There are the only residents of Ischia besides us horses,” he tells his little audience. “They’re very smart, and curious.” A couple of bigger birds come lower in the branches and one hisses, head tilted, and Brennen gives a little flick of the tips of his own wings and calls sternly into the trees: “Friends,” and with that the bigger birds make some hesitant clucking sounds and retreat back into the canopy, making room for lots of the chirpier little birds to come down and investigate.
“There should be a pond not too far if we go left at this next fork,”
He guides them across the sand to a place where a wide, obvious path leads away from the shore into the jungle, moving at whatever pace the tired family dictates. He steps back alongside Umqra, letting the boys frolic ahead with a quiet warning not to get too far from the path, and flicks an ear to catch her quiet words, which draw a quick glance from Brennen thought he keeps a careful eye on the colts all the while. “You don’t have to be scared.” he murmurs a response just as quietly, “Ischia is one of the safest places I’ve ever known – and now there are two of us to keep up with them,” The first statement is firm and solid, because his islands are safer than most places he’s been. The second half is almost a question, a cautious frown forming on his face as he watches her out of the corner of his eye; she has not said who is staying, after all: all of them, none of them, just the boys?
Almost as soon as they enter the cover of the trees, there is a building noise of wings and strange calls, and the parrots begin to gather, looking down at the quartet of horses. The stallion smiles up at his feathered friends, almost grinning when a favorite green bird drops quickly to perch with its talons tangled in his mane. “There are the only residents of Ischia besides us horses,” he tells his little audience. “They’re very smart, and curious.” A couple of bigger birds come lower in the branches and one hisses, head tilted, and Brennen gives a little flick of the tips of his own wings and calls sternly into the trees: “Friends,” and with that the bigger birds make some hesitant clucking sounds and retreat back into the canopy, making room for lots of the chirpier little birds to come down and investigate.
“There should be a pond not too far if we go left at this next fork,”
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN