It was easy for Baylen to hate how small he was.
He was a burro, after all, but the rocks seemed especially large today. The equine's hooves scraped at the rocks in grueling battle as he heaved himself onto the next ledge. Baylen's eyes scanned below himself, making his stomach sick. He was high in the air, crawling across the span of a cliff by the sea near Pangea.
This was the daily life of the few inhabitants of those cliffs. But alas, Baylen's body was ''suited'' for the work, the constant battle for a clump of grass nestled between some high rocks. But as ''suited'' as he was, Baylen was fed up. He needed a place for fresh grass, and sunshine.
And no more sea-mist ... Baylen grumbled to himself, as a huge wave hit the rocks, and cold sprinkles coated his coat.
The donkey gave a miserable sigh. He lifted his leg to take another step, when he slipped. Rough rocks buried into his belly as he slid down a distance, before he caught himself. Baylen rushed up the rocks as fast as he could, until he reached the top. His sides heaved. He became aware of his surroundings. Baylen could hear the blood roaring in his ears.
He was done. Done with the struggle of the land, done with the constant climbing and looking for food.
Baylen looked east, his ivory coat glimmering gold against the silver stormy sky.
-----
It was even easier to hate being short when you were traveling across the continent.
Baylen's legs ached, but were decently stronger since three months ago. He had seen a lot on his journey; mountains, beaches, small lakes, big lakes, rivers, and taiga. Now he was so, so close to his destination.
The Fields. The burro had heard from a horse that the fields were plentiful of grass, and not too aggressive.
Well ... to horses anyways ... it should be fine. The big brown horse had considered.
I hope you are right, Baylen had replied, because I am tired of lies.
One lie had brought him close to death. He had asked a group of young stallions were a good place to rest was, and they had directed him to a cave, were he was almost mauled by a bear.
Baylen pushed those thoughts aside as he trotted long a well-worn path through some thin forest.
Birds chirped happily in the trees, and the sun peered through the light-gold leaves of the aspens. Their thin white-and-black trunks reminded Baylen of a zebra, running until it's legs blurred.
He shook his head as a fly buzzed unto his eye, half annoyed, half encouraged.
Where there were flies; there were horses.
As the minutes passed, the thin aspens grew thinner, and sparser. The land started to slant upwards, and forest made way for lush, green grass. The sun welcomed Baylen with open arms, and rays of light seemed to be pulling him closer. He started into a full out burro 'gallop', braying excitedly. He could smell the scent of other equines.
Baylen crested the hill, and halted in amazement.
Grass and horses spread out almost as far as he could see. It was ended by far-away rocky hills.
A pond and a small creek was not too far away, and several horses were wading through it, or drinking.
It was paradise, other then an air on uncertainty. A longing feeling, like a horse waiting for rain.
Baylen noticed the horses nipping at each other often, and integrating carelessly. All these equines were herdless.
No matter, Baylen thought, I don't even need a herd. I've lived without one all my life.
That was a lie. The burro had been hoping to find others like him, or maybe just a horse herd ...
He shook himself indignantly. No sour thoughts today. He'd deal with that later, but for now, he would enjoy himself.
Baylen sunk into the ground, and rolled, covering himself with dust and dirt. His legs bobbed in the air as he wiggled around. He sneezed and stood up again, ready to eat a bite.
Baylen's mouth tugged at the lush green grass, and he had to remind himself to pace. He moved like a zipper through the Field, mowing down the grass.
The day streaked by quickly.
Seirath was a pseudo-parent. And not a very effective one. In the role of disciplinarian, especially, he was greatly flawed. While he slept, refusing to let the desert’s irritating heat rob him of a few more hours of rest, she had struck off again into the unknown. Now, sweat-glossed and more exhausted than before his nap, he was threading his way anxiously and meticulously across this new landscape in vain search of her impish figure. She had lulled him into a false sense of security, he decided. Clearly, she knew what she was doing and she had deliberately tricked him by behaving like a normal, appropriately attached child and hanging close to him for weeks weeks, so that he would sleep soundly for once and she could escape.
Of course, that wasn’t exactly true… she had never been particularly concerned with following the rules he tried to establish. It was definitely not the first time he had woken up to find her footsteps leading him onward, the faint scent of primrose in her wake.
Seirath was large enough to deter most predators, and reasonably confident he could handle one that was desperate enough to pursue the tiny golden snack. These advantages, however, really only applied when she was within earshot. And now… now there were greater dangers. Horses, groups of horses, usually meant trouble. He had noticed the difference a few days ago; the unmistakable signs of other horses, of trodden paths, of engaged borders. He had said nothing to her, but she would have smelled them, as he did, last night as they drew nearer. Seirath had been planning to skirt around the whole place. He wasn’t sure what his reluctance was, exactly, but he had not intended to make himself – or the filly – known here. Obviously she had had other plans.
He broke into an easy trot, scanning with narrowed eyes between trunks and across distant hills. He didn’t really expect to spot her, but the adrenaline kept his sharp gaze on alert. Taking no more than a minute to catch his breath, restraining his eager feet with difficulty to give his eyes ample time to turn over each stone he passed.
What was that?
He paused, hungry for any morsel, any break in the monotony of his search.
Voices.
He pushed onward.
Quite suddenly the Plains opened up ahead of him. He halted abruptly, his feet sliding a little on frosted grass. Panting, Seirath turned to take in the full scope of his surroundings; the strangers, the lush space, the relaxed atmosphere.
The day was waning, the light was soft, but still the sun made itself felt. He stood before the outstretched Plains in his silence and his glory, his unspoken dedication, his hidden motive. His stance was that of a man braced against the calamity of the next horizon; the tension in his body superseded only by the calm austerity of his features. His face betrayed skepticism at the corners of the eyes, but otherwise was consumed with the grim sobriety of a newfound insight. The heavy, rapid beating of his heart were muffled by the forced stillness of his body. He watched them, unwilling as yet to commit himself to their company. To become one of the dispossessed, the lost – the remaining. Reluctance was in every line of his burnished body; and he felt keenly the weight of his skin.
He took a deep breath, and, struck out toward the nearest body on the Plain. Curiously, and for Seirath’s sake fortuitously, it was not actually a horse feeding in determined straight line before him. There was an imperceptible relaxation in the marble mask he was trying to hold up, and he grunted a greeting as he drew up to the other, just in case he hadn’t been noticed. “Excuse me,” he started, “I’m sorry to bother you, but, any chance you’ve seen a little girl?” as he spoke the words he realized they might sound extremely strange, he tried to cover the weirdness by hurrying on “She’s somewhere around 5 months, palomino, very pale. Looks nothing like me.” he added. Nice. Well done. The sarcastic tone in the back of his head was irritatingly familiar.
Seirath - wait
Baylen continued to eat around the other horses. A few gave him odd looks, and others still made ''ass'' jokes.
That made Baylen feel a little irritated. There was no reason to make fun of his kind. Equus Asinus was a up-standing species, something to respect!
It wasn't long before a young stallion teased him, and got a kick to his nose along with a warning bray.
The young equine squealed, and leaped backwards, falling hard on his haunches. Baylen snorted in satisfaction.
He continued his eating march, until a horse approached him, and asked a couple questions.
Baylen stopped to look at the horse lazily. The sun seemed to make him feel sleepy ...
He scanned the horse up and down. The newcomer's eyes were a chalky grey, which was curious enough, and his body was a fine bay color.
Nothing alike indeed, Baylen thought.
''What's palomino again?'' Baylen asked, swallowing his food. He knew some burro colors, but horse colors? Taboo. He knew bay, white--or was that grey?--and black.
05-04-2017, 03:22 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-04-2017, 06:12 PM by Smidgen.)
Ah, the Field. A place the tiny girl had visited just a small number of times, mostly in search of her friends. Now, she comes in search of the same! Though, this time, not for anyone in particular. She is an adult now, although she hasn't grown much- really, hardly at all. She is barely thirty inches high at the withers, thanks to parents she didn't really remember anymore. But she's made lots of friends, who called her a variety of cute names. Things like fairy-child or miss fairy. She loved that. Loves the fairies, for because of them, they all exist freely here in this land. To be called something akin to them is a dream, albeit maybe a silly one to most people. Of course, as she's grown older, she's put most of her games of pretend to rest. Even so, she is still young and happy at heart, and games are still fun to play. Especially with the babies that come around the spring time. She loves to engage them, for sure! And her home, the giant and voluminous redwood forest is a most wonderful place to play hide and seek.
Today, though, is a lovely day to seek new friends. The weather is cool, having not yet reached the deeper part of winter, and not much snow covering the ground. In fact, there is still lots of grass. Which is great and all, for the larger horses. See, Smidgen's head often doesn't reach over the tall blades that grow here in the Field and the neighboring Meadow. And, well. It's really hard to make friends when no one can really see you! She'd even accidentally scared off a potential friend once who'd thought she was some kind of predator stalking through the grass to eat them. It'd made her very sad at first, but then- Come on, you gotta admit that was kinda funny! To think lil ol' Smidge could eat a big horse like them. She giggles as she chomps some grass between her regular herbivorous teeth and marches on to the next one. Before long, she hears this very interesting sound. Kinda like a goose's honk, but way louder. Whoa, gotta check that out. She pressed on through the field, but dang grass made things tough sometimes.
"Hellooo!" She rings out, her voice still small and feminine, melodious even. She tosses her permanently baby-face up to clear her bushy forelock from her crystal blue eyes as she rears up and tries to balance on her rear legs. Oh! There we go! Now she can see over the tall grasses. She scans the area and quickly spots the two males not too far off. One is this soft fluffy cream color, with some really cute long ears. The other is a taller bay man who looks more average like others she's seen. Smiling brightly, she calls out again. "Oh hey, hi there! Hold on a sec, please!" And then she lowers herself and bounds through the grasses to where they stand. She pants a little once she reaches them, smile still firmly in place. The young mare looks up at the one with the longer ears and the cool striping on his legs, looking kinda dusty like he'd rolled recently. She liked rolling too! And then she takes in the other male, taller than the blond, and waaayy taller than her. But she's used to that. Beaming up at them both, she gives them a more proper greeting. "Hiya, I'm Smidgen." A swish of her long silvery tail. "Are you guys looking for someone, or something? Can I help?" She has to keep her head tilted up so they can see her eyes and smile, but she doesn't mind. Oh, except for when the sun shines down right into her vision. That's not so pleasant.
It wasn’t until he had finished speaking that he realized how out of breath he actually was. There was a restlessness in his muscles right alongside the stitches that was egging him on again, back into motion, back to the hunt. Seirath forced his heart to slow down. The frantic beating against his chest was reverberating through his ears, distracting, trying to pull him back toward panic and chaos. The feeling was so unfamiliar that he was having difficulty mastering it, which had never happened to him before. Focusing his attention on the burro in front of him helped him anchor himself in the moment, outside of the fear and the unknown in his imagination. He took in the stature, the alien but familiar features, the distinct non-horseness of him. It helped, actually, he felt after a few seconds he was getting a handle over his rising concern for the missing golden filly.
Odd, he thought to himself as he processed the ivory figure. Or was it odd? He’d only been in this place 5 minutes so maybe it was perfectly ordinary to run into donkeys. Does it matter? he asked himself, with a faint hint of annoyance. Right. Conversation. Goals. Problems to solve.
Bred for diplomacy, it became almost instinctive. He had been apart from others a long time, now (well… if you didn’t count the child), and yet – it was like he couldn’t stop himself from sliding into a familiar old coat. Seirath felt his features aligning themselves, familiar strings of decorum and diffidence tugging his face, his stance, his voice into the right lines. He defaulted, always, infallibly, to friendly and polite. He held the other’s eyes as he spoke. It was instantly clear that this stranger had not seen his quarry (there was a stir of panic in his breast again, quickly beaten back), but Seirath restrained anxiety, gave a soft, apologetic smile for his insensitivity. “It’s a light blonde… looks like pale gold on her.” he clarified, and even his voice lost a little of its previous urgency, but hard as he tried to suppress it there was a weariness in his words that hinted at the tension he felt.
He looked around quickly at the small voice calling toward them, not far off, ears turning quickly to catch the volleyed words. Curioser and curioser… The tiny figure ploughed toward them in a series of leaps over the grass. Seirath swung his hock outward a little, taking a better position to watch her. The slate eyes were arrested for a moment on the unexpectedness of her. It takes him a heartbeat too long to answer after she speaks, old, rusted instincts nudging him into action. “Hello, Smidgen” he says, dipping his head, wondering if the name was intentional or ironic. “I’m Seirath, and this is…” out of practice! He chides himself silently as he realizes he didn’t stop to take names, or give them.
He presses on, “I was just asking this gentleman if he might have seen a little palomino filly pass by recently.” Almost unconsciously he takes a few steps to the side, and a step closer, and the shadow cast by his dark frame falls over her face. “Any chance you would have seen her? And,” He added, resigning himself to the fact that tracking the filly down was going to take some time "maybe you could tell me where I am?"
Seirath - wait
The stallion seemed upset, like a storm on the verge of unleashing gales of wind and rainfall. His whole chest was heaving, and burros were more ... empathetic about others' feelings. He--whatever his name was--was obviously concerned about the lost one. When Baylen had asked what pal-o-min-o was, the burro had picked up a note of panic and irritation.
''Well, I've seen a lot of horses that look like that,'' Baylen considered, twitching a huge ivory ear, ''but no young ones that weren't accounted for.''
Baylen felt a little guilty he didn't know. He had been too busy pleasuring himself with food and dust. The equine stared at the ground for a second, paying attention to the any carrying a grub, and the little cracks in the dirt.
His attention was changed when his large, tall ears channeled rustling noises to him.
A moment later, a small, grey-patchy pony emerged.
''Aye, there, Smidgy--er, Smidgen.'' Baylen brayed as she introduced herself. He remembered he hadn't done the same when the stallion had approached, and felt embarrassed. ''I am Baylen of the burros.''
Baylen ducked his head in respect.
Seirath--so his name was--asked where he was. Stupidly, in Baylen's opinion. How could he not know where he was?
''Your in the Field, mate.''
05-04-2017, 10:37 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-04-2017, 10:59 PM by Smidgen.)
She knows what it's like to lose something, or someone. She'd lost her parents at a young age, although she didn't really remember it happening and it doesn't bother her most days. She'd met a very good man-friend a while back who'd lost his friends and she'd tried (unsuccessfully) to find them for him. She'd become close to a grumpy guy something like triple her size who was really just a big teddy bear at heart- to her, at least. And she'd lost him too. Found him, though, living happily on the coastline of Nerine. It'd suited him, living there, but Smidge had wanted something a bit different. And she'd found it when she went looking for a different friend she'd made, Gyps with her hair two shades of blue and matching wings. Now the Taiga is her home, with the closest thing to family she's ever had. She would really hate to lose them. Even if the gray magician had been gone here lately. She misses her. Aunt ReaRea and Uncle RuRu were so great together, and great to her.
So when the bay man- Seirath, he says his name is- speaks of a little palomino filly, she gives him her best sympathetic look with her blue eyes sparkling in the light. "I'm sorry, I don't think I have seen her either. But I'm sure she's okay! There's lots of places for people to go around this land. You should check the playground, maybe. That's where lots of children go to play together and the fairies protect them with their magic." She offers the suggestion with a hopeful smile, grateful when the taller man steps into the line of the sun and casts his shadow over her face so that she isn't being blinded by it anymore. She blinks up at him, expression friendly as ever before she turns her eyes to the long-eared fellow, as he stumbles over her name and gives his own. Baylen of the burros. Oh, okay! So he is a burro, then. Cool! Her smile is just as kind as she addresses him next. "I've never met a burro before. I love your ears, they're cute and fuzzy." She blushes and ducks her face a bit, hoping he won't take any offense. "It's nice to meet you both, can call me Smidgy, or Smidge, if you want."
Then she looks between both of them again as she realizes neither of them seem to be from here. But Baylen at least seems to know what they call this particular stretch of land. Although, admittedly it's pretty straightforward. She gives a soft giggle and then speaks up. "Yep, this is the Field. People come here to meet others and sometimes find homes in the lands surrounding us. This whole place is called Beqanna, and it's a really great place to be. I live in the land called the Taiga. It's a big redwood forest with creeks and hills, not too far from here. The other side of the Forest you can see over that way." She gestures with her small fuzzy face to the northwest, and the treeline looming there. "You guys should come see it sometime! Y'know, maybe after we find, um.. What's her name, anyway? Anything about her that sets her apart?" She is genuine in her invitation, and in her concern and curiosity. She hadn't been super successful at finding others in this big wide world. But maybe she could help this time.
He sighed, nodding acknowledgement of Baylen’s words which confirmed what he had suspected instinctively. Unable to restrain himself his eyes lifted over the other man and glanced swiftly across the vast space of the field, taking in all of the strangers’ unfamiliar shapes against the green and the crisp pastel of the sky, looking for the little golden needle. Reservation and anticipation, rather than hope, dominated in the set of his gaze.
Smidgen’s voice was like honey, drawing him back to the present. She had the sort of inborn cheerfulness that was probably unstoppable. He was aware of a thrust of optimism and felt certain it was spillover from the little blue mare, and not born from anywhere within himself. Seirath’s shoulders slumped a little bit as she did speak. He nodded as she went on, braced for the answer but still disappointed, trying to rally his common sense and his social skills. He was attentive to the little mare as she spoke, slate eyes poring over the blue ones as though to read her answer before she actually spoke it. “Thank you, Smidgen, I really appreciate the advice.” He heard the condescension in the burro’s tone and, because it was so fully justified, Seirath felt as stupid as he probably looked. He wasn’t used to playing so many cards short of a full hand and he blamed the filly for that too. Charging off into the unknown compelled him to charge after her without thinking. The familiar annoyance with her was bittersweet in her absence, and added a creeping guilt to the cocktail of emotions clouding his perception.
Beqanna. The name had a strange ring to it, and was unfamiliar. It stirred nothing in the vault of his memories and this, oddly, made him feel a bit better about his surroundings and the other beings that populated it. He smiled in response to her invitation, polite gratitude was the appropriate reaction but there was sincerity there nonetheless. It was hard to make plans for a point beyond finding his wayward ward, as though the world without her was impermanent and illusory. “Of course, I would be happy to visit.” He actually wasn’t himself sure if that was true, though saying it out loud constituted a commitment according to his own code.
“Alayaya. At least, she answers to that.” He offered, his lip half climbing back into an apologetic smile. It was the name he had given her, and he thought it had probably stuck. “It’s hard to say, exactly… Trust me, you would know her if you saw her.” She was impossible to overlook, and she was definitely unforgettable. “I appreciate your offer, I could probably use some help, even if it was just to spread the word a little bit.” After all, he barely knew where he was, and he definitely didn’t know what was where.
It had been at least twelve hours since he had seen her last. The afternoon was wearing on – the days had shortened with the season, as though to frustrate him the sun was falling swiftly and unrelentingly and with it, his chances of finding her for today. Panic stifled, for the moment, his brain conjured a different tangent; the girl was friendly, overly friendly maybe, but she had so far always seemed to be able to keep herself out of the worst trouble and there was every reason to believe, as Smidgen said, that she was ‘okay’. He found he actually believed it, now that the thought had time to root itself properly.
He shifted his weight a little, overheated muscles cooling down quickly in the sudden stillness. He turned his attention back to the burro, tranquil gray eyes appraising. “Anything you’re looking for we can add to the list?” he asked.
Seirath - wait
05-05-2017, 11:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-05-2017, 12:03 PM by Baylen.)
“Anything you’re looking for we can add to the list?” The anxious stallion asked.
Baylen tapped a hoof thoughtfully. Seirath's question made him sad, reminding him of how lifeless his life was.
''No'' the moon-colored ass replied, ''I don't have anything to lose.''
Baylen suddenly wondered about Alayaya. He got the impression that she wasn't spectacularly fond of Seirath, considering she ran away--maybe?--and he seemed panicked about it. Perhaps there was something fishy about this guy--a hidden vice--that he wasn't telling Smidgen or Baylen.
Horses were odd. They couldn't stand to be alone for more then a heartbeat, and would fight and steal each other's mares. They were big, and they were loud.
The burro looked at Smidgen suspiciously--maybe she wanted to steal him, or whatever--then at Seirath.
What company have I gotten myself into? Baylen thought. He guessed by their looks--and the pony calling him ... cute--that they had never before seen a burro for that matter. The ass was a alien among their kind. A slight of regret shuddered through him. I'll help him anyways ... Baylen's mind thought traitorously, it's the logical thing to do.
''Where do you think the young one would've gone?'' He asked, his tail swishing, ''I can help you look around.''
She looks between both males, particularly noticing Seirath's sweaty pelt and the panic slowly fading from his eyes. She captures the disappointment in him when she and Baylen both admit to not seeing the girl he searches for. Guilt fills her, and empathy drives her to help. At least the stallion seems to let his spirits lift with her suggestion of where he might find her and that she's probably fine; that makes her happy. Still, though, she understands his anxiety. Finding yourself in a whole new land with lots of unknowns, and then losing someone close to you in said land. Yeah, Smidge can see how that would be very worrisome indeed.
He thanks her, and she beams at him, happy to instill hope and positivity in the man while offering what she thinks is good advice. Seirath is polite when he says he would be happy to visit her home sometime, but Smidge can tell he has other things on his mind. She couldn't blame him for it, so she nods and says, "I would love to see you both there, if you ever want to, that is. Not now, though, of course. But I bet your girl, Aleyaya, would really like it there, especially if she likes to wander. The Taiga has a magical quality about it, with lots of places to explore." She smiles and then looks away, thoughtful about where a young palomino foal would run off to. There are so many places and things to see and people to meet. All too easy to get lost, unfortunately.
Baylen doesn't seem to appreciate her calling him cute, and she begins to worry she has made him feel out of place. She had only spoken because it was true; she does really like his ears! And wonders if they're as soft and fuzzy as they appear. But his reaction makes her want to apologize, although then she feels she risks embarrassing him further. Aw, man, what an awkward predicament. She smiles sheepishly at the burro, hoping he doesn't totally dislike her now.
Seirath asks Baylen if he's looking for anything also, so that they might also search for that while they look for Aleyaya. The simple way he says no and the flatness of his tone when he says he has nothing to lose darn near breaks Smidge's heart. Her tiny ears flick back and she shuffles a front hoof shyly, eyeing the jack from under long silvery lashes. "No friends or family?" Her inquiry is soft, gentle as she looks at him with brows creased slightly. "Everyone should have at least one friend. I would like to be one to you." She smiles a bit, then frowns. "Unless.. you don't want to be friends." That just might break her heart, truly, but she thinks she could understand. Maybe she made him feel uncomfortable before, thus ruining the chance to be friends. Feeling a bit sad, she tries to shake it off, looking back to Seirath with a soft smile to her lips. "Yes, we will both help. Do you want to split up? Or we could stick together and I could show you around while we look for her? You'll have to forgive me though," Ducking her eyes, that shy shuffling of her feet again. "I don't tend to move very quickly through the high grasses." If Baylen thinks he's short, he's got nothing on Smidgen.
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