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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    Cinders of Summer [Any]
    #1
    The night had started like any other within in the small camp of native scouts and their mounts. The last of the scouts had thrown out some food for the horses before rejoining his companions by the fire. The popping sound of the fire milled into the background as the group of men told stories and started to playfully taunt one another. The small herd of mounts had lowered their heads as the calm of night settled in with the sounds of the woods. The fire had died down to warming coals which the men had set their sleeping bedrolls around.


    The night erupted in the sounds of panic and fire. The horses that were tied on the long lead to each other stomped and tossed their heads. The men were shouting somewhere around where the campfire had been and a great wall of fire stood at the nearby tree line. The flames lapping at any dry brush that was exposed. The rains had been scarce this year and maybe a stray popping coal had struck some patch of dry grass.The horses reared as a tree nearby caught fire and the dry pine cones started to pop loudly.


    The old adage about horses running back into a raging fire was not always correct. The air was so hot that it choked those that were trying to flee. The sounds of trees crackling and the underbrush burst up all around in a licking orange flame. It was all one could do to just keep running and hope for a creek or an open meadow that led to the end of this nightmare. The screams of animals that were caught up in the spreading terror of the fire could be heard as the mare continued to run. She and the other horses had been cut free of the long lead and some of the men had even mounted up to outrun the fire. In the course of panic her man had mounted up with another as he had a faster horse.


    Moon galloped after them all but, as the smoke started to drive in around the fleeing band she was separated. The shire mare kept running though knowing that stopping was not an option. She coughed and stumbled a few times but continued on. She did not notice the change in the woods around her how they became more damp and the fire had stopped its ravenous pursuit. The mare only stopped once her feet touched water and she stood at knee height in the water she had stumbled into. Her green eyes blinked and stung from some of the ashes still clinging to her.
    She was out at least but, this place was not home. Moon looked around her at the foreign forest with its fog that was now slipping away revealing its tangled amount of underbrush and trees that she was not familiar with. The air did not smell of fire and there were no sounds of popping or falling trees. The gentle groan of branches and the sound of crickets came to her ears. A fox barked in the distance and her muscles twitched only slightly knowing that the little trickster could not harm her. The marked mark started out of the creek bed slowly and very cautiously. The greying of the clouds told her dawn ways soon at hand and in this new and strange place who knew what waited for her now.
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