He’d been entirely unprepared for his mother’s actions. One moment he’d been happily feeding away, filling his poor hungry tummy, the next … his lovely wings had been ripped away.
He’d stood there, utterly dumbfounded, as his world had dissolved in pain. And then she had arrived.
Even now, hours later, he’s still not entirely sure what had happened. There’d been a lot of hitting, and a lot of red, and then the new mare had come over and urged him away. She had licked the stubs of his wings and then pushed him along. She’d rescued him. And now they’re somewhere entirely new and strange.
His little brown eyes stare about in wonder as they pass under tree after massive tree. It’s almost enough to distract him from the pain still burning in his stubs … almost. Every once in a while he still glances back at what’s left of his wings. He’s not quite old enough to truly understand what he’s lost, but he still misses them. They'd been a part of him, important somehow, and now they’re gone.
They walk and walk, his little spindly legs stumbling over the uneven earth, until they reach a quiet, cool stream. Lauchlan does his best to transverse it, but his new legs are shaky and unused to picking through slippery stones. He stumbles once, twice … then lands firmly on his behind. “Oof.” He looks up to the painted mare at his side, and finally voices a question that’s been troubling him since she rescued him on the beach. “Who … you?”
He’d stood there, utterly dumbfounded, as his world had dissolved in pain. And then she had arrived.
Even now, hours later, he’s still not entirely sure what had happened. There’d been a lot of hitting, and a lot of red, and then the new mare had come over and urged him away. She had licked the stubs of his wings and then pushed him along. She’d rescued him. And now they’re somewhere entirely new and strange.
His little brown eyes stare about in wonder as they pass under tree after massive tree. It’s almost enough to distract him from the pain still burning in his stubs … almost. Every once in a while he still glances back at what’s left of his wings. He’s not quite old enough to truly understand what he’s lost, but he still misses them. They'd been a part of him, important somehow, and now they’re gone.
They walk and walk, his little spindly legs stumbling over the uneven earth, until they reach a quiet, cool stream. Lauchlan does his best to transverse it, but his new legs are shaky and unused to picking through slippery stones. He stumbles once, twice … then lands firmly on his behind. “Oof.” He looks up to the painted mare at his side, and finally voices a question that’s been troubling him since she rescued him on the beach. “Who … you?”
the itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout
@[riva]
Uuugh this post is awful.
I guess I have to start with him somewhere!
