"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Traveling with Chemdog had been a good choice in the end because he gives her a crash course in the new lay of the land. And how things have changed. Once they leave the familiarity of the common lands, everything changes. The Mountain looms overhead, its summit hidden within a blanket of cotton white clouds, a landmark that helps you gather your sense of direction. Names like Pangea and Hyaline feel strange when they dance across her tongue but she merely accept it, all of it, as she trots by his side and takes in the red rocks and tall cliffs with a calm scrutiny.
Chemdog himself proves to be a rather quiet companion but she doesn’t mind as there is much to take in. Besides the exchange of names and whatever information he feeds her that he thinks is important, they travel mostly in silence.
They reach a river and he picks up his pace as he informs her that the easiest and most convenient method of reaching Hyaline lies on this stretch of road. Her body begins to loosen as she breaks into a gallop to keep up with him. It had been a long time since she had simply enjoyed the feel of a good run and she enjoys the burning sensation in her muscles as they begin to warm up, as her limbs stretch and her hooves began to eat up the flattened earth beneath them. They fly, the two of them, long ribbons of raven hair whipping behind her elegant neck as his heavy hooves send up dust behind them.
With a roguish grin, she catches a glimpse of him out of the corner of a golden eye and starts to increase her pace and a sharp whinny escapes her lips, a challenge in her voice as she starts to take the lead. “Come on old man, we don’t have all day.” She calls with a laugh, knowing that by the time they arrived her lungs would burn and every inch of her would be sore but for now… For now it just feels good to run.
They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
Bardot