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When suffocated embers have long been extinguished, the blackish atmosphere -filled to burst with rhinestones- is our consolation prize. A quarter-moon lends her cold light for the final leg of our journey, shedding her iridescent, blue hue over the rugged terrain. Our destination impends, within seconds I’ll push these burdened wings through that archway; into the mouth of a stern, impassible ridge. A fortification that juts into heaven like wolf teeth; encasing the innards, acting as the sanctuary for parasites on a moist tongue…
Interludes have been frequent, but these desolate, frosty crags act ruthless. Northern gales surpass the gaunt autumn coat encasing our bodies. Successful foraging becomes scarcer; additionally, the crusted slab has barely a stump to crouch beneath for shelter. Fatigue is quick on my heels; the effects of constant travel are taking their toll.
Divine forbearance takes pity on our situation and sheds some weight. The moment we hit that forsaken bedrock, our (unexpected) traveling companion (whose chronic presence squelched any breath of privacy) mercifully struck out on his own. Since his companionship had been tolerated for Noah’s sake…my façade of remorse (indifference) only further highlights the relief which came from watching that sodden, nauseating funk of a man stride off into the vast, sterile landscape. Mini me is melancholy, seriously doubting that he’d find safe passage through the frigid, treacherous mountains. Though…rather than aid him further…she too is unsympathetic toward that stranger and his unlabeled plight.
When the eagle descends into those gloomy, overcast foothills – my creamy hollows all but cry with eagerness to disembark. Before long, these dainty toes have collided (attentively) onto that spongy turf; both soil and reeds are painted with a new husk of frost, each step summons a crunch beneath my feet. The air (though warmer compared to outside, beyond the canine-like fence) is frigid. Smog dances from trembling nostrils into the icy air. Those summertime annuals (we dined upon months ago) have died out – their stalks are placid, bent and withered. But…beneath their rot...shafts of new growth is protruding.
I can't stop quivering...despite how my hide has been thickened over the better part of a month as we'd edge closer to these northern walls. Ears overlap the near black fibers on my poll -- they rotate, following these eyes to find the extraordinary soul who’d led me halfway across the world...and back. Exhaustion burns in my joints, hunger growls menacingly; but those physical demands aren't nearly as crippling as the plea to spill the truth at his feet…Now that we are finally alone…and unburdened for security. My subconscious frowns and produces visions of his reaction from a blurting mouth, ‘you’ve waited this long; a few more minutes won’t hurt.' The anxious tightening in my chest disagrees.
OC:
@Noah
