Her body was trained now, like an alarm clock, where she rose every morning at sun-up and rested every evening immediately at sun-down. The life was not a pleasant one. The white and black of her coat that she normally kept pristine were salt-marked and sweaty. Dust from the constant plowing billowed up into the air and settled onto her hide as well, turning the white marks a dusty brown and fading the black to an ugly gray. Her mane and tail were knotted and greasy with sweat and toil. She looked terrible. The only consolation was that she was too tired to think of it most of the time.

Some nights she slept in the mists, alternately standing and curling up on the ground under the mists. Other times she would lie alongside her massive creation, pressing her body against the cool class, and feeling the energy of the thing vibrate within her. She was giving everything of herself to this wall and she would count it as hers until the day that she died. Even now, tired and messy and emotional drained as she was, she could not look upon the creation like the parasite that it truly was. With the rise of the sun on day 15 (had it really been so long?) she still managed a small weary smile at the site of the barrier glinting in the sunlight.

Rising from the ground as was her duty, she picked up where she had left off the day before. Mirage continued to maintain the clearing and direct the flow of the building. Kahlua was grateful for the direction she was being given. Though she had been appointed to Glazier, as she had always wanted, she had found with her conversation to Dragomir that she was not entirely sure she was fit to be lead. Of course, she wouldn't share the information with anybody. That was for her to know and others to never find out.

Inch by foot by yard and longer the wall grew. Behind her, the trees seemed drier than she thought they should be, even in the scorching summer heat. If she had been a scholar, she would have wondered if she was drawing mists from within the trees as well as without. After all, she had to get her materials from somewhere, and the fog that covered the land could not be an endless commodity, could it? She had no idea, because it was not her duty to know. Her duty was to call upon the mists and shape them as she pleased.

At least the work was mind-numbing. As she rose each morning and looked upon the wall, regathering the image of the colossus in her head, she did not have to think. If she was not being spoken to, if she did not have to stop and search the deepest depths of her brain to find coherent words, the work went relatively fast. Still, the more she worked, the more she found herself aching for the end. How much farther could it be, she wondered to herself with increasing regularity. Often she tried to shake the words away, but like prodding tendrils they came back and would not let her be. By the end of the third week, she wondered if she would ever think of anything other than walls again. How could she?

OOC| End week three. Only a few days left until our endless magic runs out. Get your butt in here and post, if you want to be a part of building the wall!!

.KAHLUA