.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
02-24-2014, 11:25 PM
Coika slipped through rough trunks, visage held low. She was slinking – catlike, after a fashion – as if this offered any more safety. She’d be naïve to think that anything could camouflage her in the forest; she was born for mountainous terrain littered with snow-capped boulders. Blending in wasn’t an option in the forest no matter the season. The mare paused to catch any indication the air might carry, then heaved an enormous sigh before violently shaking her body to loosen the icy grip layers of snow had laid upon her. I can't be the only one left. None of this is real. It wasn't as though she'd know how to behave in the company of another. In her mind, she must have done something to end up alone and homeless. But, whatever it was, she wasn't at all apologetic. How can one feel remorse when they don't even know what they've done to warrant it?
She'd been walking for weeks; aimlessly braving the elements in this dead winter was the only thing she knew to do. Just keep walking. Just. Keep. Walking. It was a redundant song that played in her head -- a broken record of sorts. And so, as was her way, she lifted her feet once more and continued on her path to nowhere in particular.
Each step was placed with great care and fluid, catlike movement. While the goal was to be silent, crunching layers of ice and snow betrayed the mare’s stealthy gait. Her thick neck bent to allow her sight beyond the next tree. Barren. All barren. Perhaps it was for the best. Solitude had become comforting. The last real sight she’d seen was the split head of her “friend” – if you could call him that. If you were to ask Coika, he was more of a nuisance and, “Good riddance.” Still, she couldn’t shake the sight of his precious ruptured skull. While she was generally indifferent in regards to his death, something about the way he’d looked in his last moments continued to hold her curiosity.
The sky had gone shades of magenta and violet behind cloud cover that would distort any horse’s depth perception. Coika made it a point to avoid watching as dizzying gray wisps floated across heavy, dark snow clouds. Nighttime was fast approaching, and the mare knew she needed to find a place to bed down. She grunted in disdain, remembering hunger. Sharp hooves struck icy ground cover, freeing and fragmenting pieces that she eagerly consumed. At least there’s water, she considered before playing the broken record once more in search of shelter.
Steadily, she descended a steep path. There must be something here, she considered with bleak hope. A bird zipped past her unexpectedly, and came a misstep that sent the young nomad sliding down the incline. She squealed and roared (as best a horse might), thrashing desperately for footing. As abruptly as the potential disaster began, it ended as Coika's body slammed against a tree at the foot of the hill. With the impact, snow crashed down atop the mare from the assaulted tree's limbs.
Coika lay quietly, irritated at herself. A bird. Honestly. Slowly, she came to her feet. Blood seeped from a wound on her shoulder, running down her leg and pooling at her feet. She raised her head high, and bright globes scanned for any promising shelter nearby. Defeated in her search, she lowered her head and retreated in hiding behind the blinds of her own closed eyes. Not much longer now, her mind sang as the mare drifted to sleep.
(Please excuse the lack of a proper, flashy format. It is in the works.)
