01-23-2019, 08:38 PM
At first he does not remember. He does not remember where he was or why. His eyes blinking open, automatically searching for his Tithe and Tindalos, reaching for the spots where they would have laid next to him. It did not matter if they were sick, at first he had needed their touches, their warmth, and their love. Now he still needed it, but they had helped him be more confident and for that he would always love them.
So when they are not there, he blinks quickly, forcing his eyes to focus, to look and search. The grass around him is not folded over as if someone had laid there. Confusion creeps across his brain, awakening it even as his eyes tried to make sense of why they wouldn’t have laid with him last night.
It was only when he saw the red touch of the flowers did he pause. His eyes narrowing slightly as he lowered his head to take a long look at one of them. Flickers of before coming to him and he smiled slightly (if still a bit confused as to why he had fallen asleep), his lips gently plucking the red flower from the ground.
He notices the wind next, the gusting, the way it pushes against his body. How had he not noticed it before? It tried to whip the red flower from his lips, only intensifying as time goes on. He looks out towards the ocean, where the wind was coming from, a blue line along the horizon. Fear roots him to the spot as he looks at the dark and angry wall of clouds sweeping in quickly.
When the rain hits him it feels like shards of glass. The pain jerking him out of his fear. He had come this far. He was not going to quit now. He determinedly picks his way through the flowers, grabbing what he could even as the wind pushes him back and forwards, slamming him into the ground on more than one occasion. He doggedly pushes back to his hooves everytime, blood on his knees, oozing from the scratches along his body. He doesn’t waste any energy healing, needing all his strength just to take that one step, and then another to find the flowers, to heal Tithe and Tindalos.
The wind and rain blinded him, throwing him from his feet one last time. He feels something sharp pierce his haunch, turns to see the branch that stuck from his body like a spear. He groans, drops the flowers that he had been holding, watching helpless as they whip away from him in the blasts of wind and rain. He cannot see anymore, cannot see anything in front of him, cannot hear past the roaring of the wind and the rain. A tree falls over him, crashing down around him and sticking him again and again with the broken branches. And while it hurt, while he could still possibly die, the tree that fell over him created a tent of branches and leaves that probably saved him.
And while he could not move, he could stop the bleeding, not worried about the cuts and new scars that would no doubt adorn him, he waited out the hurricane. He felt like he waited there days for the roaring of the storm to end. A loud clap of thunder jerked him awake.
Again he sat there confused and dazed as he looked at the untouched flowers and the perfectly normal day. Still feeling the lingering effects of the pain from the branches. He looked over his body to see that it was still as it was, that the blood and branches weren’t there.
So it was a dream then. He turns and looks, blinking and waiting to see what happened now.
So when they are not there, he blinks quickly, forcing his eyes to focus, to look and search. The grass around him is not folded over as if someone had laid there. Confusion creeps across his brain, awakening it even as his eyes tried to make sense of why they wouldn’t have laid with him last night.
It was only when he saw the red touch of the flowers did he pause. His eyes narrowing slightly as he lowered his head to take a long look at one of them. Flickers of before coming to him and he smiled slightly (if still a bit confused as to why he had fallen asleep), his lips gently plucking the red flower from the ground.
He notices the wind next, the gusting, the way it pushes against his body. How had he not noticed it before? It tried to whip the red flower from his lips, only intensifying as time goes on. He looks out towards the ocean, where the wind was coming from, a blue line along the horizon. Fear roots him to the spot as he looks at the dark and angry wall of clouds sweeping in quickly.
When the rain hits him it feels like shards of glass. The pain jerking him out of his fear. He had come this far. He was not going to quit now. He determinedly picks his way through the flowers, grabbing what he could even as the wind pushes him back and forwards, slamming him into the ground on more than one occasion. He doggedly pushes back to his hooves everytime, blood on his knees, oozing from the scratches along his body. He doesn’t waste any energy healing, needing all his strength just to take that one step, and then another to find the flowers, to heal Tithe and Tindalos.
The wind and rain blinded him, throwing him from his feet one last time. He feels something sharp pierce his haunch, turns to see the branch that stuck from his body like a spear. He groans, drops the flowers that he had been holding, watching helpless as they whip away from him in the blasts of wind and rain. He cannot see anymore, cannot see anything in front of him, cannot hear past the roaring of the wind and the rain. A tree falls over him, crashing down around him and sticking him again and again with the broken branches. And while it hurt, while he could still possibly die, the tree that fell over him created a tent of branches and leaves that probably saved him.
And while he could not move, he could stop the bleeding, not worried about the cuts and new scars that would no doubt adorn him, he waited out the hurricane. He felt like he waited there days for the roaring of the storm to end. A loud clap of thunder jerked him awake.
Again he sat there confused and dazed as he looked at the untouched flowers and the perfectly normal day. Still feeling the lingering effects of the pain from the branches. He looked over his body to see that it was still as it was, that the blood and branches weren’t there.
So it was a dream then. He turns and looks, blinking and waiting to see what happened now.