Post by Nevvy on Jul 5, 2010 12:25:51 GMT -5
DANGER
Dare to try?
The wind slapped his face like a lover slapping the one who cheated on her. It cooled him down in the sultry heat that singed his fur and burned his skin. Ebony stud stood, black tendrils whipping to and fro, ensnaring each other in their own traps as they felt the punishment of being caught in the feisty breeze set off by the incoming storm that showed no mercy. He knew the rain that would pour from the clouds and soak the ground would lower the temperature, but oh how he wished to be in the winter, where there was no such thing as stickiness after a rain. Thunder rumbled, and underneath he felt the ground shiver in anticipation. The ground was dry, the grass a nasty brown, no nutrients even under the cracking skin that held it just upright enough to be burned more by the antagonistic rays of the yellow star. But the rain, oh the rain, the grass welcomed it home like a part of them had been missing for centuries, and just now came back to be in the grasps of the one they loved and cherished. He stood upon a hill, overlooking this field of browns that quivered at every whisper of breeze, sang with every passing movement, jumped at the sound of thunder, and screamed in joy as the rain finally sprinkled upon the dirt that held them grounded.
It soaked him. The feel of the drenching rain made his own soul quiver all the way to his bones. The rain was cool, and offset the warmth that he had been traveling in for days. It had seeped into his bones, pulled the strength from them, and left it for dead for the vultures to find and eat up. And yet he kept moving. Days that he had wanted to collapse on the ground were the days that he pushed himself forward, unwilling to let utter weakness tear him apart and wait for the predators to come and cut his throat. He would be the demise of his own death. He would not let another creature choose his fate before he had a decision in it himself. Daggers churned the muddy Earth has he descended from his throne into the oblivion beyond. Reaching the field, the stalks scraped at his skin, not tickle like they should. But soon, if not in a day or so from this heavenly downpour, would it turn back into the nutrition he desired and the future herd he planned to bring here, to this hellhole in heaven. Feathers grabbed greedily at the small grasses that were ripped to shreds and caught, being held prisoner.
He paused, twin peaks shifting to listen behind him. The gales that were blowing to and fro did not knock him aside, but the weeds shifted and bent and some broke as rain pelted from the sky like bullets being thrust into his skin and the ground. The lightning splattered itself across the sky in forks and waves, illuminating his path to his new home. Ahead of him lay shelter. Trees that bent with the storm, and among the thunder one could hear the cracking and deaths of the some of the weaker soldiers in the battle. Good shade, comfort, and shelter was being lost to this storm. He entered into the darkness, only brightened by the lightning that he knew could sizzle the trees or the field with one landing in the right spot. But Danger was his name, and he did not care. The lightning threw shadows all over the place, and a time or two he jumped, thinking eyes were staring at him from the shadows, ready to grasp and throw him into oblivion where his path, his story, would no longer exist. But his imagination was just getting the better of him. Amid the storm, the winds, and the thunder, a gruff voice threw out one word: Mine. Dare to try and get it away from him, the warning stood clear in that one word. Danger lurked here now.
Renegade Springs
Forest and field take over this vast land. The field surrounds the forest, taking over the land in fields of browns and sometimes greens when the grass grows between the weeds. The trees are so dense that no grass grows, save a few spots where there is light, then it grows in abundance. The trees are tall and give protection to any who need it from the elements or any predators that may be out there, but the same goes for the predator too. However, as one traipses through the forest, they can hear a tinkling of sorts. A spring with a small waterfall holds the supply of the fresh water that keeps the horses alive. It was a most beautiful spot, with grass growing in overabundance and a cave behind the waterfall, although that is not known unless ventured into. The water is shallow, enough so that only in the center can an equine not touch. [/blockquote]