06-08-2017, 07:46 AM
The trip back to Tephra always seems to stir something in him, something innate and naturalistic. It was something deep, like the spirit of the volcano was calling to him, yearning for his presence again beneath the heated rocks and freely flowing magma. Without hesitancy, his soul calls back, for he knew he would begin to feel out of place if he strays too long from the humid, sulfuric air of his home. Despite the fact that home was where all of his current problems seem to stem from, he was more than ready to be back in the quiet confines of the tropical scenery.
Occasionally, the bay stallion would turn his head slightly and crane his neck, his bright blue eyes searching out the champagne mare that was following him. The actual trip from the Field to Tephra was rather easy, which is why Warrick would find himself there (or in the forest, meadow or river) any time his wandering spirit willed him to move. They only needed to travel a few miles to the northeast, where the terrain was gentle, with soft slopes and generous grasses, especially in the warm waves of summer. Sirana follows him with ease and he is not surprised, for though the mare was still just an acquaintance, he could tell that she was hardy and strong – suitable qualities that match those who already reside within Tephra’s thick, jungle-like foliage. He wonders how Sirana will react to the change in climate as they come closer to their destination.
The air, though already warm from the season, was beginning to wrap around their bodies, becoming thick and tepid as the humidity now climbs. He was starting to feel the familiar dampness on his skin as he begins to sweat, the heat becoming more and more intense with nearly every step. The foliage begins to thicken; broad, fat leaves of tropical plants brush against their shoulders, dampening their coats as they push through.
Once the border was crossed, Warrick chuckles quietly. “We’ve arrived,” he tells her, stopping momentarily to let the champagne mare draw up beside him to where they stood shoulder to shoulder. Where they stood, the jungle was thick and dense, but through the tops of the trees in the distance, the shadow of the volcano towers boldly. “I believe it’s time for another swim,” Warrick admits, noticing that the dark tendrils of his mane and forelock where now plastered to the curves and lines of his face and neck with a mix sweat and moisture in the air.
He begins to move again at a graceful trot, his indigo legs pulling him easily through the thick vegetation. Quickly, it begins to thin and become sparse, opening up to two rather small creeks that were side by side. One runs cool and clear with a slow, fluid current while the other is even slower, marching along at a snail’s pace. It is glowing and pulsing with light, its orange and yellow color bright against the brilliant green of the grasses at its shoreline. The rivers of lava were rather normal to see as you bring yourself closer to the volcano, and Warrick thinks nothing of it. Without a thought, he splashes into the river with exuberance, delighted as the cool water coats his legs. He lowers his head to drink, his eyes flickering to Sirana, a grin on his closed lips.
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick