09-03-2016, 07:27 AM
The earth quaked and shook its great angry belly;
The Tundra was ate up, swallowed whole down a big dark gullet that spat the two of them back out, sleepy and confused - like all of them are.
Now a big mountain juts up from where there was no mountain before, and everyone talks of the mountain in thin hushed whispers.
They think the mountain must be magic, but they have no purpose to visit it.
What they do visit, is the forest, always familiar to their brave adventurous souls. They weave in and out of the trees, sinuous as snakes - they've tried to play with one, but it reared back and hissed threats at them and something instinctive whispered dangerous to them. So they laugh and leap away, happy to be alive even in the face of all the strangeness they've seen.
They smell her in the midst if their play; noses lifted up to the air, siphoning information from the altars of cloud and scent. She smells like they do, of the Tundra, and the smell is faintly familiar - something about a cave and fire comes back to their minds; remembrance. They rush to her, crowding her black sides with their warm furry bodies - they still looked like wooly wild sheepdogs, not like the little growing horses that they really are. “We know you,” they say in unison.
The Tundra was ate up, swallowed whole down a big dark gullet that spat the two of them back out, sleepy and confused - like all of them are.
Now a big mountain juts up from where there was no mountain before, and everyone talks of the mountain in thin hushed whispers.
They think the mountain must be magic, but they have no purpose to visit it.
What they do visit, is the forest, always familiar to their brave adventurous souls. They weave in and out of the trees, sinuous as snakes - they've tried to play with one, but it reared back and hissed threats at them and something instinctive whispered dangerous to them. So they laugh and leap away, happy to be alive even in the face of all the strangeness they've seen.
They smell her in the midst if their play; noses lifted up to the air, siphoning information from the altars of cloud and scent. She smells like they do, of the Tundra, and the smell is faintly familiar - something about a cave and fire comes back to their minds; remembrance. They rush to her, crowding her black sides with their warm furry bodies - they still looked like wooly wild sheepdogs, not like the little growing horses that they really are. “We know you,” they say in unison.