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Perhaps to the rest of them it was darkness, but to Casca, it was just his world. A singular perk of being born into endtimes, one might say—he had nothing to compare these woods to, no memories to miss. Had the forest suddenly returned to its former glory, the rotting reversed, the mist turned playful, and the constant chirps and chatters of residents who had long since abandoned the place renewed, he likely would have been more alarmed than delighted. These woods were what he knew: the crunchy, blackened moss beneath his hooves, the sweating toadstools, and the loamy smell of decay. And the ants.
The ants, however, were a new discovery, and thus had required his immediate attention when he’d awoken from a nap and seen them marching in a never-ending line right past his nose, up over the hillocks and through the trees. Huffing, the red colt had scrambled up to investigate—Brother was near, and so were Ma and Da, and so he’d had no qualms about wandering off after the strange, scuttling creatures trekking determinedly away from his sleeping place. Where were they going? Why? He had to find out.
Casca followed the line for some time, treading carefully so as not to step on the little black-armored soldiers, observing with great curiosity as they moved along. No obstacle seemed to deter them; the arrow-like precision of their path only interrupted by detours that skirted the borders of murky puddles. Everything else they marched over or under with measured efficiency, always taking the shortest path—but to where?
It seemed though, that he would not know, for soon the trail had led him to the border of the forest, beyond which he had been given strict instruction not to stray. The glass spikes rose forebodingly before him and Casca hesitated, looking up at the sharp edges glinting in the dim light. The ants, however, were not deterred. Having received no such warnings from Ma or Da, their single-file rank wound between the shards and disappeared into the mist, a wavering line of tiny bodies stretching into the distance. “Where are you going?” he whispered to them, pale eyes surveying their path. “And what are you, anyway?”
Of course, the ants gave him no response. The red colt sighed, and settled for watching them trek past, legs splayed awkwardly and muzzle nearly touching the ground. He remained like that for several minutes, but with each passing insect, the boy’s curiosity only grew. Finally, when he could no longer stand it, he straightened. Casca glanced left, then right—surely if no one saw him leave, they wouldn’t worry, right? He would only go a little beyond the spikes, just to get a better view, and he’d be back before anyone even realized that he was gone. There was a gap in the wall just big enough to allow a smallish colt to slip through, and through he went.
The outside world beckoned.
"blah blah blah."
OOC: Set just outside the border of the Edge since the board has closed!
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