.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
06-20-2016, 05:22 PM
A loosened stone slips suddenly out from beneath my right hind-hoof which causes a chain reaction that sends my bony back-end sliding uncontrollably down the way I’d come. The lean muscles in my front-end stiffen to act as a counterbalance and my lungs wheeze with breathless rasps in the fight against gravity. Even as this throat swells with fresh horror that sits mutely on my tongue…there is nothing to magically permit me to cry out for help should I fall. More stones follow in the mad scramble to follow, they dance merrily over the brim. Far below, the ridge is rabid with needles and cloaked in mist – there is little doubt that a tumble would hurt. The fear of dying…the revulsion of falling…terror herself digs those talons deep; she sings in my blood and quickens my breath to pant dryly. I strain for balance, the effort is a fervent bowstring pulled taunt.
Not like this!
These flanks are knotted, the violet flesh is sleek with sweat and mud; my perspiration is a mirror of the walkway which is coated with treacherous sludge from recent landslides. Baited seconds pass before some semblance of balance is restored and these numb, twig legs finally thaw enough to tremble in the absence of adrenaline. I-I’m still…alive. Minutes later, these clinched jaws unhitch and ears cautiously slip from their fixed position against my crown. Eventually, with something bordering insane determination, I press forward -- one slow step at a time.
The welcome warmth of an early morning sun burns my path into view and those low hanging clouds melt away as rays of sunlight filter through a grey, overcast sky. The sun is hot against my steaming, quivering side. When at last the path ends into a leveled section of land, putting more than a few feet of distance between myself and certain death… I find myself lacking the energy to continue, so I stop moving entirely to marvel at the miracle that I’d not broken a bone in the climb. My head drops wearily and frantic exhales slow. New scents curl across my flared nostrils, seemingly stronger now that my focus is shifted from that precarious ledge. Did I make it? Shivering (though not from the cold) -- hollowed, mismatched pools glance up; they note first the presence of a usual figure that took the shape of a horse, yet it appeared a lifeless monument, as cold as the stone I trod upon.
OC: Health isn’t great; she is malnourished and dirty.
Not like this!
These flanks are knotted, the violet flesh is sleek with sweat and mud; my perspiration is a mirror of the walkway which is coated with treacherous sludge from recent landslides. Baited seconds pass before some semblance of balance is restored and these numb, twig legs finally thaw enough to tremble in the absence of adrenaline. I-I’m still…alive. Minutes later, these clinched jaws unhitch and ears cautiously slip from their fixed position against my crown. Eventually, with something bordering insane determination, I press forward -- one slow step at a time.
The welcome warmth of an early morning sun burns my path into view and those low hanging clouds melt away as rays of sunlight filter through a grey, overcast sky. The sun is hot against my steaming, quivering side. When at last the path ends into a leveled section of land, putting more than a few feet of distance between myself and certain death… I find myself lacking the energy to continue, so I stop moving entirely to marvel at the miracle that I’d not broken a bone in the climb. My head drops wearily and frantic exhales slow. New scents curl across my flared nostrils, seemingly stronger now that my focus is shifted from that precarious ledge. Did I make it? Shivering (though not from the cold) -- hollowed, mismatched pools glance up; they note first the presence of a usual figure that took the shape of a horse, yet it appeared a lifeless monument, as cold as the stone I trod upon.
OC: Health isn’t great; she is malnourished and dirty.
