Marco
I've traveled all this way for something
It had only been a few minutes into the journey since the moment I chose to follow Africa.
The consequence of my choice would whisk me away into the unknown. If I held any powers of an oracle, I would still be discontent with the visions given to me; crystal-clear or not. Any conjuration of what the final outcome would be weighed heavily on my skull, and I even felt a twinge of a headache threatening to erupt. Sometimes it was for the best I would steer away from the paranormal, but it was always the same: what-if? Truly, I wanted to absorb the world all at once, but I bit off more than I can chew, as mama always told me. I once told her I would chew-se that, and I was positive her dish-shaped face mimicked an abstract sense of horror.
These little talks in my head soothed the boredom beginning to take shape. It did not curb the home-sickness I still felt, but I constantly reminded myself that this nice mare would ensure safety and a homeland. A herd! It was a dream I was sure no sober colt with my mindset would assume, and accept so eagerly. I wanted to ask so many questions, but a tedious portion of the journey laced itself in its irksome concept that I was sure opening my jaw would emit a loud squealing sound than a civil tongue. So, I clamped my mouth shut, and I focused on the shift of scenery compared to the entrance into a threshold, and emerging through the spine and out the maw or the backside. I hadn't a clue. It was still silent between us besides the sounds of hooves and the wind and a pair of wings merging as one. I ended up humming nothing, but an annoying sound for a few moments.
My legs constantly moved with a more speedier pace to keep up with the mare. I involuntarily became noisy in my exhaustion - my labored breathing, specifically - although nothing else seemed to signal its alarm besides the working lungs and legs. Genuinely surprised, I was positive I wouldn't survive so easily on a body kept in poor shape when instinct built itself so much on running - and fighting.
Something swiftly brushed against my petite ears. Instantly, my eyes rolled towards the origin; and to breathe relief. She spoke! It was one syllable, but it was enough. I didn't reply just yet; more mesmerized by the recognition of a wing unfurled, partially, yet it still held fascination. Nothing was said out loud over it. An extra question kept in silence. A brisk light highlighted itself in my vague attempt to emote. The attention was pleasing while I continued to keep up, and kept my face upon the one monitoring occasionally. It took me awhile to discover her body movements involved some staggering. Yet her pace never faltered.
"I don't mean to offend, but do you need to rest? You're working so hard." I uttered softly. It was the first words I had made before the journey, and I tried to sound mature about the whole thing. I don't know what the haste countered, but the landscapes seem so beautiful, yet so wistful. I was ignorant as they came - being a foreigner of this land.
More traveling; more sights to see. I still worried for the tolls it could take on an equine at this rate. Eventually, I noticed the shift in landscapes: no more grass, but I was instantly awed by the bright rocks surrounding us. I almost paused if it wasn't for Africa's voice ringing from a hearing distance between us, A glimpse of a smile formed upon the grey maw that it was voluntary to smile back with a goofy version filled with embarrassment and glee. When her head turned away, my mind thought of the gems gleaming with an aesthetically pleasing image. No doubt; at the corner of my eye, I glanced back towards the real deal and how it began to fade away as we continued to tread through and through until relief and Africa spoke together.
I wanted to collapse then and there from both exhaustion and relief, but not knowing what was the more appropriate action gnawed at my body. "Safe..." I breathed. Assumption theorized there was a lurking danger, but I was never fully confident in my own mind.
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[O] Home away from home [welcome, Marco]
