Post by LeJea on Mar 30, 2009 1:45:14 GMT -5
You come to me with scars on your wrist. You tell me this will be the last night feeling like this. I just came to say good-bye. Didn’t want you to see me cry. I’m fine, but I know it’s alright.
SnowFall turned his head slowly, not bothering to shift his body, his weight. He blinked into the setting sun, watched the huge ball of fire burning so far away drift down past the strangling branches of his massive oaks and pines. The dry rasp echoed from his hollow throat could be taken as an empty sigh. The stallion turned his head back to the darkness of his beloved forest, and ‘sighed’ again, allowing his lungs to expand and collapse in on themselves as he drank in the freezing air through his nostrils. He flared them every now and again, letting the scents wreck havoc on his body and mind, sending him into a rage, or on the verge of screaming, or even flinging himself towards the dangerous cliff that stretched the length of the eastern side of his territory. The crag was deadly if one were to fall, but he had always been gifted in his own territory, able to withstand the harshness of Mother Natures fury, able to keep his balance when his draft body should have shifted weight and sent him spiraling into the dark hell over the side of the ledge. He plucked up a wide hoof as to make an example of why he should have fallen, have died, and brought it beneath his body on a tender muscle. His right foreleg was a weakness, he thought hopelessly, and he must take care not to stress its limits. A lame horse was powerless in this cruel world, and would die if only one limb was debilitated.
Ears fell back into his dark mane, nostrils toyed with the white of his blaze as they flared, eyes widened slightly and dull gaze traveled slowly over the barren terrain he called home. Mist coiled with a throbbing affection around his hocks, making his hooves glisten and appear clean even when covered in dirt. White stockings stretched up loyally to all four of his knees, then flecked against his legs to his shoulder or hip, ending in a tidal wave of black. His mane and tail fell, guided by gravity, towards the ground. His mane and forelock were long, unkempt, and swung when his head or neck shifted in the slightest. His forelock draped over an eye almost always, and his mane cascaded over the left of his neck and brushed his chest often. His tail would raise and hang loose on command, dipping to the ground and trailing in the dust when he did not lift it. The very tips of his hair were a light gray, while the roots were very much so white. His forelock was a dark gray, bringing out the startling contrast of his black face, dark brown eyes, and bright white blaze.
Eyelids dropped in a slow, sleepy blink, and took all his will to pull back up. He felt so much like tucking his head down to his body and sleeping, knees locked and senses cut off from the world. He wanted so badly to go to sleep and hear nothing but his own steady breathing and heartbeat. He wished he could have the chance to achieve the depth of sleep he had not accomplished in so long. He loathed that he could not have it. That the danger of this territory kept him from closing his eyes and being able to sleep, letting him only doze. He detested the fact that he had no one to alert him to danger and allow him to sleep, that no one was here to nudge him when something approached, and bring him out of a comfortable sleep so he would not die on this day. He felt a malicious amount of hatred at the fact that—His thoughts ended abruptly when the wind shifted and blew at him from the north instead of west, and his nostrils flared unconsciously at the change in direction, as it would had he been running. The scent wafted up his nostrils, caressed his scent receptors, and alarm bells clattered in his brain as he turned his head slowly and tilted his nose upwards to smell this thing better. He breathed deeply through his nose, allowing the air to ease through his parted lips. He smelled the distinction between species, and could tell the gender even from this distance. Feline, lynx, in fact. Female. SnowFall turned his body to confront this intruder, and the thought crossed his mind that Mercutio would have been upset to know another feline roamed within his master’s home, even when the scent was thickly laid with female promise.
His stride was a slow trot, taking him through his forest with an eerie quiet that was gained only from so many years of traveling them. His movements were slow, rolling, but very efficient. He gained progress and when the trees began to space out; he plucked up his hooves and moved at a graceful canter. His broad hooves clipped roots and rocks, sending out vibrations but the usual pangs of sound were absent. He was so used to moving here, it was effortless to close distance between himself and the female, and it was almost absent minded that he slowed and turned when the trail did. Had it been possible, he would yawn out of boredom as he heard the distinct crunch and crackle of pine needles beneath wide paws. SnowFall had become so used to Mercutio trying to be stealthy that it was second nature to hear the feline when she thought she was moving like a ghost. He nearly chuckled aloud at the thought of her moving silently over his domain, remaining entirely solitary when he was here, and his senses were sharp. His gaze caught her movement as she stepped into a particularly bright shaft of light, and he felt a pang of sympathy when she paused to glance around her. She was wary, with good reason. She did not know, but he was hidden within the darkened shadows of the trees, his black hide blending perfectly, and his white stockings coiling into the whiteness of the mist. His white blaze was covered by his tousled black forelock. His camouflage was much better than hers, and he would be impossible to see, even by the more piercing eyes.
He blinked his dark brown eyes that were so near black the slight glint in them would be hard to spot. He watched her dash through the trees, her stride easy and peaceful. He noticed the angle of her fringed ears as she crossed a wolf path that he had followed a day before. His lips curved upwards with slight amusement as her tail flicked unconsciously as most felines do. That long appendage is what kept their balance, he remembered vaguely from a time when Mercutio had explained his anatomy in detail. But he noticed another thing. This beast strode proudly past the wolf scent, as if she believed herself massive and strong enough to take down the three distinct animals that had left the path. He snorted, which would mostly be mistaken for a groan of a tree, at this petite animal that could barely manage her own against the three large wolves he had stalked for days. It was lucky they had not been true in their one attack on him. In his battered state, he wondered if he would have been able to defeat them or make it away with his life. But they were full of deer and too lazy for a confrontation, so they agreed to leave after a half day of rest. He had trailed behind them to be sure they stayed true to their word. They had. SnowFall’s skin twitched against the pained gash on his left flank, where wolf jaws had snapped closed on his skin. He had not gotten away completely unharmed. But for this feline to think she would have been able to compare was foolish.
His ears tossed forward when her lips moved, and he expected to hear a yowl and a question for who lived here, but he only heard the distinctly feminine voice whisper incoherent words before they broke off and ended. He pinned his ears back in frustration. This was getting him no where, telling him nothing of why she was here. His annoyed scowl and thoughts kept him from following her further, and he heard from the distance her snarl. He waited till it ended to move forward, trailing slowly behind her as she bolted into the cave. He wondered idly what she was running from. He nickered out to the feline when he stood two yards from the cave entrance, wind billowing his hair to his left, ears lain into the wild mass, nostrils flared to smell her for health, age, anything, and his eyes were awaiting her return out of the darkness. His nicker ricocheted off the cave walls, sending the sound spiraling out of control and erupting into many other nickers, and many other sounds. It was like something was dying, snarling, screaming, crying out in pain and anything else that would be released from its rapidly closing throat. SnowFall wondered how the cave knew what he was feeling.
Annoyance clouded his judgment when she did not immmediately come into the open light of the sun. He brushed through the remaining foliage that begged him to stay and strode proudly into the cave. He stopped short when his eyes and nose detected something wrong. SnowFall realized with sickening slowness that he had not seen the wench come from within the den because she had laid down, and died.
character To Watch The Snow Fall [obviously SnowFall]
'His' mood thoughtfulness&&sorrow
word count 1526
status complete
muse trickling steadily through the cracks
music Last Night by Skillet, Whispers In The Dark by Skillet, Far Away by Nickleback, Numb by Linkin Park, In The End by Linkin Park
drink water [strep throat hurts [pssh, yeah!]]
other I would rather a reply with at least one hundred words, but I am welcome to something less. This thread is open, anyone can reply. SnowFall is silently, dismisally claiming this land as his own, so a herd will soon be gathered. Any takers?
I might reply later if I am good and get some of my essay written haha