|
GULL
trouble, trouble-maker, that's your middle name
Fire. With a pained grunt, the grullo stallion lifted his head. Yes, there, on the horizon…that was the telltale flicker, wasn’t it? A rattling cough shook him from the inside out, but he knew his window of opportunity was limited. He had to get out of here. Wheezing from the effort, he moved towards the red light at as fast a gait as his aching body could sustain.
Most sensible creatures would turn tail and flee at the sight of flames in the distance, but Gull had already found himself in another predicament: he was lost on these flats, and had been for nearly a day. For hours he had wandered across the endless mirror, but everything had looked the same in all directions. The hot sun had beaten down upon his back and the damp ground had sucked at his hooves, only adding to the misery of his pre-existing cough and inability to breathe properly. The surface of the plain was maddeningly dizzying as well, shooting errant beams of light into his sensitive blue eyes and making him feel as if he were about to fall into the sky reflected below him…or was it above him? Either way, it was just another reminder of the fact that he was too weak to fly. He had tried, knowing that if only he could rise high enough, he might be able to spot an escape. But his lungs were too weak to allow him the stamina to get a decent running start, and so he was grounded, a flightless bird. Even in his state of semi-madness, Gull knew enough to realize what this meant: a pegasus who couldn’t fly was as good as dead. Doggedly, he tracked towards the sounds and smells of burning, closing his eyes briefly to block out the bouncing light. Where there was a fire, there was something to burn—even if it was just dry grass, it would be better than this awful flatness.
However, as he drew closer, he realized that this was no errant wildfire: the shouts and screams and singing cries came from behind the smoldering curtain. Glancing up, he saw the flurry of wings swooping across the sky above, and peering forward he saw…
Unicorns.
Hazy as the battlefield was with dust and smoke, he recognized it immediately. How could he not, when he had grown up listening to the tales of warriors? How could he not, when he had flown over the burned aftermath, desperately hunting for a patch of grass to bring his starving mother? How could he not, when THEY HAD KILLED HER? The cry that tore from his throat was hoarse with his curse and emotion, but his blood was boiling hotter than the flames that surrounded them. The war was here. The beasts had come for them. Adrenaline lending him a burst of strength, he rocked unevenly into the battle. Eyes streamed and grew red from the smoke, but he refused to close them, not when—there. They locked on their target. With the rage of his ancestors burning behind his skull, Gull charged Öde from the right, teeth bared and hungry for the blood of his age-old enemy.
text
"speech"
| |
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
SWP :: You thought it was over? So did I. (Part I)
