Malik
Malik has been watching the sky beyond the mouth of the cave for a thousand hours. He has watched it turn from deep black, to soft black, to grey. Now, moments before he is slain by boredom, color has finally begun to arrive. Deep purple rises over the easternmost peaks, and Malik is out of the cave and tumbling down the mountain the moment he sees it.
After several stumbles, the black colt pauses in his descent. He frowns in concentration, and his body grows smaller and more compact. As a young rock sheep, he is far more agile on the granite outcroppings that make up most of the ‘path’ down toward the lake. The cave that his parents have chosen to nest in is certainly secluded, and as Malik squeezes through a thin crevice, he decides that his nest will be closer to the water.
His cloven hooves make easy work of the trail, and once Malik reaches the broad sweetgrass meadow that rolls down toward the lake he shifts a second time. This time it is to a gazelle, long and thin and capable of long high leaps that feel nearly like flying. Malik has to bite his tongue to keep the adrenaline fueled laughter from bubbling out.
When his legs can bounce no more, the gazelle becomes a colt, who trots down toward the water that reflects the first light of dawn and drinks his fill.
What will he do today, he wonders?
@anyone
After several stumbles, the black colt pauses in his descent. He frowns in concentration, and his body grows smaller and more compact. As a young rock sheep, he is far more agile on the granite outcroppings that make up most of the ‘path’ down toward the lake. The cave that his parents have chosen to nest in is certainly secluded, and as Malik squeezes through a thin crevice, he decides that his nest will be closer to the water.
His cloven hooves make easy work of the trail, and once Malik reaches the broad sweetgrass meadow that rolls down toward the lake he shifts a second time. This time it is to a gazelle, long and thin and capable of long high leaps that feel nearly like flying. Malik has to bite his tongue to keep the adrenaline fueled laughter from bubbling out.
When his legs can bounce no more, the gazelle becomes a colt, who trots down toward the water that reflects the first light of dawn and drinks his fill.
What will he do today, he wonders?
@anyone