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05-06-2013, 01:55 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-06-2013, 08:09 PM by Crash Course.)
The air was bitter compared to the previous land the draft had resided in. Just after Arah had been swept away from him and he had promised to keep her safe, he was too stolen. The Dragon's Throat had dehydrated his body, causing his flank to sink in deeply and his thick coat to shed in awkward, obnoxious patches. The foliage also dried out his silver hooves, causing cracks to run up random lines of each hard walled foot, small pieces flaking and chipping off at random as well. Orangemoon hung high in the air, it's light pulsating rhythmically onto the earth's crust as each cloud blocked it out, only to be swiftly carried away by the wind. The air was so inviting.
With unsure feet, Crash moved across the like-new, powdered ground. His chest grew with each deep breath; not because he was breathing heavily, but because the air smelled so much sweeter. Normally, Arah would be the first thing on his mind, but survival instinct kicked into his brain, telling him to drink as much water as possible. The trio that had guarded the stallion at the Throat had not been abusive and had given him enough rations to get by, but uncomfortably. The thought made his stomach bubble and whine.
The moon was blocked out by thick, black clouds that began to shower the ground below with light droplets of rain. The liquid shocked him for a moment, his head raising high in the air and ears pushed forward. Soon enough, it relieved his sore body. During the, "fight," Midas had struck his withers hard from the air, driving the draft to his knees with a reluctant cry. His left shoulder now bore the scabbed over burn from his opponent's phoenix as well.
Dark blue eyes adjusted to the darkness without the help of the orange globe that hung in the air. Crash made his way to a small puddle of rain water, quickly dipping his dark mug into the liquid and sucking it nearly dry. The water was so cold, making it feel like ice ran down his throat with each gasp of air between drinks. Thank god Mauja had freed him. He owed the speckled stallion something large.
walk walk walk talk talk talk
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