|
The oasis was drowning beneath the day’s third heavy downpour. Africa trudged tirelessly with unscathed optimism, despite the penetrating chill of saturated coat against her warm steamy skin. Her springing steps sank deeply into the waterlogged grass, leaving sharp imprints in her wake. The casual young horse was oblivious mind due, entirely caught up in her search for Midas whom she had not seen lately, if at all since he had blessed her with home and family; and rescued her from the miserable stallion in the northern mountains- a memory she had quite promptly quashed. She was exceedingly appreciative though, and had settled now quite comfortably into the Throat’s way of life. Africa could not count the moons that had passed already, it seemed a long time though, and she felt tardy having left this duty so long.
Lifting her ashen face towards the sky, Africa squinted, peering between long thick lashes to spot the widening crack in the bleak grey clouds. The weather, she thought, was trapped in a cycle- Rain... sun... rain... sun, and when the midday glow did split through its suffocating blanket, there was no warmth. The rays were weak, and diluted. “Perhaps it will be a cold winter”, the young horse wondered aloud and the vapour of her hot words rose upwards, against the drumming rain. Africa had witnessed three winters prior to now, all within the comfortably tropical valley overseen by her Father, and she could not predict how the desert might wear the coming cold season.
On she wandered. The swish of wet grass stripped the coating of desert hue from Africa’s passing hooves, though she soon found to follow a winding track, shared by a channel of eroding water moving quickly down the hill. Her ploughing strides broke the smooth flow of the current as she hastened clumsily up the slippery slope, and mud splashed about her slim charcoal legs coating them with sodden red. Ducking through a narrow, overgrown point in the track she scanned the open area of grass ahead but to no avail, Midas was not there either. Scrambling up the chiselled path’s lining wall, the young mare sighed with dismay. I have been searching since morning! I suppose he must be busy. Africa shrugged at the relentless beating of rain against her back, frustrated mostly by the fruitlessness of her hunt.
Considering it her final effort for today, the young horse sent a high pitched call through the rain, and although the sound was shrill as it shattered the drone of white noise, it’s intensity was somewhat muffled; drowned in the deluge.
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: 515b833f251f3]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/515b833f251f3)
⇒
[P] I'm Not Affraid to Sleep Now [Midas]
