A chord has been struck, that much he can tell. The mare tries to brush away his mention of mountain lions, but then her voice grows quiet.
Her defensive stance seems to falter a bit as she pities the young lives lost to the predator. Doctor waits patiently during the brief pause, taking note of the distant gaze of reverie that flashes in her eyes.
It seems they both have cause to take down the offending feline.
Eventually she opens her eyes and nods to him. His smile grows more. “That’s the spirit.” He dares to step a little closer to her as he crosses the clearing to begin their short trek northward. “It’s never wise to let lions roam freely,” he muses casually as he leads her into the heavy shadows of the forest where the moonlight cannot reach them so readily.
Darkness is more comfortable along his back anyway, more secure and more familiar. It is a cloak for the pair of them, covering their rather brightly colored coats enough that their passage should remain something of a mystery to any onlookers.
Doctor moves slowly, deliberately. Each footfall is carefully placed, calculated and wary of rustling any underbrush as they near the edge of the forest. He knows well enough that the cat can see perfectly fine in the dark, but the element of surprise is a worthy advantage when stalking any sort of prey, especially a predator.
The air near the magical Mountain feels heavier; the ground underfoot seems unnaturally muffled. The shadows seem to press heavier against him, clinging tighter to his shoulders and flanks as if to blanket him even further, even stronger. It presses close around his neck, snug like an inky robe that seems to bleed the black of his mane further along his withers and back, wrapping him in darkness.
When he stops at the edge of the trees, he spares his companion a backward glance. He holds his head low, eyes alert as he ensures she is still with him before looking back out to the craggy foothills.
At first, the night is still. Not even the wolves’ howls reach this far, as if blocked by some barrier and aiding in their hunt. No insects sing; the trees do not whisper. It seems that the night has been discharged of its usual gentle symphony.
Then, as if on cue, movement stirs near an outcropping of larger rocks. Doctor holds his breath, tense as he studies the emergent form. The conspicuous white figure of a feeble-looking mountain goat steps into sight, grazing silently on the fresh green leaves of the hardy bushes here. It travels alone, which makes its presence even more conspicuous, but Doctor doubts that the creature is without some form of protection by way of Beqanna’s natural magic (who has ever claimed that the magic is relegated only to its equine inhabitants, after all?).
It is the perfect lure for a lonely lion – and sure enough, not much longer afterward, their quarry arrives. Doctor’s sneer returns as he spots the dust-colored coat of the cat slinking amongst the silver-brown stones and dark trunks of sturdy pines. It moves slow and cautious, its body pressed close to the earth below. It is actually rather close to the pair of horses lurking in the treeline, approaching from their right as it makes a slow path toward the goat further off on their left side.
Doctor looks back to Umani once more. “Are you ready?” he whispers with audible excitement. His heart pounds uncomfortably hard in his chest, rattling against his ashen bones before he takes a steadying breath. He waits just another moment, flicking one ear back to listen for Umani’s response and watching as the mountain lion steadily crawls into a closer range. They would need to launch their attack before the lion began its own pursuit, or else they may lose it in the rocks.
Finally, when the lion has paused while the goat’s head is raised and its eyes scan for threats, Doctor charges forward, launching himself into a half-rear as he springs from beneath the denser coverage of the forest. This reminds him all too well of his battles in the past, of rampaging at his mother’s bidding and throwing himself into the metaphorical fires of war.
The shadows seem to cling to him even when he breaks into the open – darkness hangs like a dense, heavy veil along his body, from his already-darkened head all the way across his tanned shoulders and haunches. The intangible-but-notable feeling of magic tingles across his body and somewhere in his subconscious, he wonders whether his mother might be watching with her magician’s eye, disguising him with the layer of shadows to aid in his oh-so-clandestine mission. In truth, it is merely the fairies’ magic aiding him in ridding their sacred lands.
And it seems to be working.
The cat doesn't seem to notice until a bellow erupts from Doctor’s hoarse throat as smoke billows from his nose and mouth which glow with a faint touch of unbidden fire. Slamming his hooves into the ground near the feline’s tail, he drops his head to shout “killer!” at the cat before grabbing a fleshy piece of its shoulder between his teeth and flinging it away from its previous path.
The mountain lion screams and howls in pain and fright, landing with a tumble somewhere near Umani. It regains its footing with surprising ease, though, and flowers between the stallion, fuming like a furnace, and the less-threatening mare. It makes a quick decision, fangs beared as it turns to face the palomino.
With a snarl, it leaps toward her, having decided she would be the easier opponent to defeat in this sudden battle.
Her defensive stance seems to falter a bit as she pities the young lives lost to the predator. Doctor waits patiently during the brief pause, taking note of the distant gaze of reverie that flashes in her eyes.
It seems they both have cause to take down the offending feline.
Eventually she opens her eyes and nods to him. His smile grows more. “That’s the spirit.” He dares to step a little closer to her as he crosses the clearing to begin their short trek northward. “It’s never wise to let lions roam freely,” he muses casually as he leads her into the heavy shadows of the forest where the moonlight cannot reach them so readily.
Darkness is more comfortable along his back anyway, more secure and more familiar. It is a cloak for the pair of them, covering their rather brightly colored coats enough that their passage should remain something of a mystery to any onlookers.
Doctor moves slowly, deliberately. Each footfall is carefully placed, calculated and wary of rustling any underbrush as they near the edge of the forest. He knows well enough that the cat can see perfectly fine in the dark, but the element of surprise is a worthy advantage when stalking any sort of prey, especially a predator.
The air near the magical Mountain feels heavier; the ground underfoot seems unnaturally muffled. The shadows seem to press heavier against him, clinging tighter to his shoulders and flanks as if to blanket him even further, even stronger. It presses close around his neck, snug like an inky robe that seems to bleed the black of his mane further along his withers and back, wrapping him in darkness.
When he stops at the edge of the trees, he spares his companion a backward glance. He holds his head low, eyes alert as he ensures she is still with him before looking back out to the craggy foothills.
At first, the night is still. Not even the wolves’ howls reach this far, as if blocked by some barrier and aiding in their hunt. No insects sing; the trees do not whisper. It seems that the night has been discharged of its usual gentle symphony.
Then, as if on cue, movement stirs near an outcropping of larger rocks. Doctor holds his breath, tense as he studies the emergent form. The conspicuous white figure of a feeble-looking mountain goat steps into sight, grazing silently on the fresh green leaves of the hardy bushes here. It travels alone, which makes its presence even more conspicuous, but Doctor doubts that the creature is without some form of protection by way of Beqanna’s natural magic (who has ever claimed that the magic is relegated only to its equine inhabitants, after all?).
It is the perfect lure for a lonely lion – and sure enough, not much longer afterward, their quarry arrives. Doctor’s sneer returns as he spots the dust-colored coat of the cat slinking amongst the silver-brown stones and dark trunks of sturdy pines. It moves slow and cautious, its body pressed close to the earth below. It is actually rather close to the pair of horses lurking in the treeline, approaching from their right as it makes a slow path toward the goat further off on their left side.
Doctor looks back to Umani once more. “Are you ready?” he whispers with audible excitement. His heart pounds uncomfortably hard in his chest, rattling against his ashen bones before he takes a steadying breath. He waits just another moment, flicking one ear back to listen for Umani’s response and watching as the mountain lion steadily crawls into a closer range. They would need to launch their attack before the lion began its own pursuit, or else they may lose it in the rocks.
Finally, when the lion has paused while the goat’s head is raised and its eyes scan for threats, Doctor charges forward, launching himself into a half-rear as he springs from beneath the denser coverage of the forest. This reminds him all too well of his battles in the past, of rampaging at his mother’s bidding and throwing himself into the metaphorical fires of war.
The shadows seem to cling to him even when he breaks into the open – darkness hangs like a dense, heavy veil along his body, from his already-darkened head all the way across his tanned shoulders and haunches. The intangible-but-notable feeling of magic tingles across his body and somewhere in his subconscious, he wonders whether his mother might be watching with her magician’s eye, disguising him with the layer of shadows to aid in his oh-so-clandestine mission. In truth, it is merely the fairies’ magic aiding him in ridding their sacred lands.
And it seems to be working.
The cat doesn't seem to notice until a bellow erupts from Doctor’s hoarse throat as smoke billows from his nose and mouth which glow with a faint touch of unbidden fire. Slamming his hooves into the ground near the feline’s tail, he drops his head to shout “killer!” at the cat before grabbing a fleshy piece of its shoulder between his teeth and flinging it away from its previous path.
The mountain lion screams and howls in pain and fright, landing with a tumble somewhere near Umani. It regains its footing with surprising ease, though, and flowers between the stallion, fuming like a furnace, and the less-threatening mare. It makes a quick decision, fangs beared as it turns to face the palomino.
With a snarl, it leaps toward her, having decided she would be the easier opponent to defeat in this sudden battle.
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