12-03-2020, 10:08 PM
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
I didn’t know what to do with myself since I had returned to Taiga. I constantly found myself pacing the forest in agitation, wandering the now familiar paths through the giant redwoods, with Memorie at my side. Well, maybe not at my side. She had grown more and more boisterous as the days ticked on. Now she is constantly running ahead to explore the forest or dropping behind to examine intricate details that the forest reveals. And she always manages to bring a smile to my face.
Today was not much different, as she shoots past me, her little hooves scraping over roots and dodging rocks like a pro (she only falls once a day now). Her speed, however, does not cause her to miss anything of interest, and within a matter of fifty yards, she skids to a halt. “Oh, mama! What’s this?” There is excitement in her voice as she dances on all four hooves, flipping her little tail into the air as I smile softly and trot the short distance between us.
When I reach her side, I slow to a stop. On the ground a short distance from the path is the most unusual-looking creature. It is almost alien-like, with its banana yellow coloring, its long antenna that retract when you touch it, and its very phallic-like shape. I laugh heartily and look down at her. “That, m’love, is a banana slug.” She dances and whinnies excitedly, which causes me to laugh more heartily, the sound ringing gently in the warm, muggy air.
The laugh felt good, as it always does. The child is truly the only thing that brings light into my sad, lonely existence. It gives me a rush of energy, and Memorie seems to sense it. She grins brightly up at me and yells, “race you!” I give her a head start before I launch off my hind legs and give chase.
To run felt almost as good as the laugh had felt, and I allow her to take her own path for a time. The path leads us away from Taiga. It is a familiar path to me, though I had traveled it only once before, and in the opposite direction. I still remember the journey, though, because it was the first journey I had taken with a purpose since I’d left the land that I was born in. The memory is there like a warm beacon to home.
Memorie eventually slows, but she seems to know I am enjoying the run, so she falls in beside me and slows to an easy canter that I can keep up with at a trot. For a time, we move together. I point out little things to her here and there, and keep up a cheerful conversation with the child. And eventually, the path leads to a beautiful field, nestled in the hills with many paths that lead to many different places, where Beqanna seemed to converge on the rest of the world. I don’t remember which path had led me to here, but I don’t really care about that.
The field is just as familiar to me as the day I had come, except that there are different faces. One such face is that of a small, black stallion that looks forlorn and lost, though somehow hopeful. Memorie slows to a walk, her bright, blue eyes (that she shares with her father, not me) looking between me and him. She’s not exactly the most socialized foal so far, so there’s a shy note reflected in her curious gaze. I give her a nod before I move in his direction.
“Hello,” I say, as warmly as I can muster (for my happiness doesn’t exactly extend past the child). I force a smile onto my face. “I’m Borderline, and this is Memorie.”
Today was not much different, as she shoots past me, her little hooves scraping over roots and dodging rocks like a pro (she only falls once a day now). Her speed, however, does not cause her to miss anything of interest, and within a matter of fifty yards, she skids to a halt. “Oh, mama! What’s this?” There is excitement in her voice as she dances on all four hooves, flipping her little tail into the air as I smile softly and trot the short distance between us.
When I reach her side, I slow to a stop. On the ground a short distance from the path is the most unusual-looking creature. It is almost alien-like, with its banana yellow coloring, its long antenna that retract when you touch it, and its very phallic-like shape. I laugh heartily and look down at her. “That, m’love, is a banana slug.” She dances and whinnies excitedly, which causes me to laugh more heartily, the sound ringing gently in the warm, muggy air.
The laugh felt good, as it always does. The child is truly the only thing that brings light into my sad, lonely existence. It gives me a rush of energy, and Memorie seems to sense it. She grins brightly up at me and yells, “race you!” I give her a head start before I launch off my hind legs and give chase.
To run felt almost as good as the laugh had felt, and I allow her to take her own path for a time. The path leads us away from Taiga. It is a familiar path to me, though I had traveled it only once before, and in the opposite direction. I still remember the journey, though, because it was the first journey I had taken with a purpose since I’d left the land that I was born in. The memory is there like a warm beacon to home.
Memorie eventually slows, but she seems to know I am enjoying the run, so she falls in beside me and slows to an easy canter that I can keep up with at a trot. For a time, we move together. I point out little things to her here and there, and keep up a cheerful conversation with the child. And eventually, the path leads to a beautiful field, nestled in the hills with many paths that lead to many different places, where Beqanna seemed to converge on the rest of the world. I don’t remember which path had led me to here, but I don’t really care about that.
The field is just as familiar to me as the day I had come, except that there are different faces. One such face is that of a small, black stallion that looks forlorn and lost, though somehow hopeful. Memorie slows to a walk, her bright, blue eyes (that she shares with her father, not me) looking between me and him. She’s not exactly the most socialized foal so far, so there’s a shy note reflected in her curious gaze. I give her a nod before I move in his direction.
“Hello,” I say, as warmly as I can muster (for my happiness doesn’t exactly extend past the child). I force a smile onto my face. “I’m Borderline, and this is Memorie.”
borderline
@[Ankou]