11-14-2018, 11:14 PM
The moment her hooves reach the frozen tundra, she is all too aware of the ice forming on her. It is uncomfortable and whatever feeble attempts she makes at saving body heat is whisked away with another blast of cold air. That is until a sudden warmth fills the atmosphere, when all bodies have made it to shore. Obviously dead participants were useless and the fairies were showing them mercy. And oh how brief it is.
Two paths are laid out and she looks quickly to them. Her sienna coat is nearly dry when a shift in weather comes. A winters fury like none other, bares down on them. Ice and snow. Wind and cold. It comes with vengeance and suddenly there is little to see.
The frigid temps around her, squeeze what little breath remains from her lungs. It hurts to breathe, ice begins to crystallize on the lining of her nares -the back of her throat goes numb with cold. She doesn't ask why. Why here of all the places, because she knows all too well the fae have their reasons. So she remembers the two paths that have seemingly disappeared. One to the right and the other to the left. Her mind fumbles to grasp the choices and possible outcomes.
Another cold blast of wind comes up behind her and pushes her forwards but slightly right. Right it is.
A chattering comes of jaw and bone, as she struggles to find her bearings. She can hardly see her own nose, let alone anything in front of her, so she decides to look down. The motion shields her eyes from the icy breath of the winter's rage. But in doing so, opens her eyes to a well beaten path. A slight pulse of adrenaline pushes through her body at her finding. It warms her insides just the slightest and for a moment she has hope. Hope for Beqanna, hope for all who call Her home, hope to live to see tomorrow.
It is a fleeting feeling, as yet again, the wrath of the land is upon her. Her body is raped by shards of ice -like glass- they cut her thin skin in the bare spots of her rust-colored coat. Her facial features wince in pain as her body is riddled with cuts. Crimson droplets begin to form and are immediately frozen to the fresh wounds, effectively clotting them. At least she won't bleed to death.
I must continue, she tells herself. So with eyes to the ground, she follows every bend and twist the path leads her down. How far she has gone and how much farther she must go, is still an unknown. But she has faith that the fairies have put her on the right path...
Two paths are laid out and she looks quickly to them. Her sienna coat is nearly dry when a shift in weather comes. A winters fury like none other, bares down on them. Ice and snow. Wind and cold. It comes with vengeance and suddenly there is little to see.
The frigid temps around her, squeeze what little breath remains from her lungs. It hurts to breathe, ice begins to crystallize on the lining of her nares -the back of her throat goes numb with cold. She doesn't ask why. Why here of all the places, because she knows all too well the fae have their reasons. So she remembers the two paths that have seemingly disappeared. One to the right and the other to the left. Her mind fumbles to grasp the choices and possible outcomes.
Another cold blast of wind comes up behind her and pushes her forwards but slightly right. Right it is.
A chattering comes of jaw and bone, as she struggles to find her bearings. She can hardly see her own nose, let alone anything in front of her, so she decides to look down. The motion shields her eyes from the icy breath of the winter's rage. But in doing so, opens her eyes to a well beaten path. A slight pulse of adrenaline pushes through her body at her finding. It warms her insides just the slightest and for a moment she has hope. Hope for Beqanna, hope for all who call Her home, hope to live to see tomorrow.
It is a fleeting feeling, as yet again, the wrath of the land is upon her. Her body is raped by shards of ice -like glass- they cut her thin skin in the bare spots of her rust-colored coat. Her facial features wince in pain as her body is riddled with cuts. Crimson droplets begin to form and are immediately frozen to the fresh wounds, effectively clotting them. At least she won't bleed to death.
I must continue, she tells herself. So with eyes to the ground, she follows every bend and twist the path leads her down. How far she has gone and how much farther she must go, is still an unknown. But she has faith that the fairies have put her on the right path...
Kolera
Earth to Earth, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.