Strange Fruition

[OPEN] Strange Fruition

Abishia Posts: 225

Hidden Account

Mare :: Equine :: 16 HH :: 5 years ~ Birdsong Buff: NOVICE

Wild.

01-01-2014, 12:46 AM

Her small bodice slips around the trunks at the edge of the wood. Slowly, the trees start to space out more and more, and eventually open up to the Thistle Meadow. She quickly makes her way through the prickly place with no interest. Her jog is fastened when her thirst becomes more needy. She needs to find water; her throat hurts with much pain. She nears the edge of the meadow when she finds a small fresh water stream. Closing her pools she reaches her neck down, to peacefully res-

Her head jerks up, her harks erect, and her nostrils now flaring. Was that a scream she heard? She flexes the small muscles that she has in fear, standing perfectly still, awaiting for the sound to come again. And when it does, it is like hearing nails on a chalk board. The sound of pain and horror that trims the voice is hard not to recognize. She whips her head to her left side, then her right. Where is Antie? The others'? She can't feel nor hear them. In this time of need, where were her guardians? The ones that guided her? Her questions are interrupted with another painful scream. The girl decides to spring into action, raising her voice into a panicked whinny, she starts off at a gallop towards the sound.

Her long legs cover ground quickly. She pushes herself to keep going, the screaming continues, she feels like breaking down, but she mustn't. Soon, the beautiful feeling of her angels returns, at her sides are the ones that guide her, (only visible and audible to Abishia) they all have horrible looks displayed in their orbs, which worries Abishia further, but she must push her feelings away. The fae pushes her legs to go faster, flying over rock and sand, sweat beading on her shoulders and her rump.

When the scene comes into sight, she skids to a halt, with a horrified gasp. Before her, dried grass is ablaze, a large field set into a blazing blanket. At the edge of the field is the source of all the screaming; the pain. A small colt, not even a month old, is struggling among the flames. Before Abi can think, she lets out another ear shredding whinny before stretching her legs back into a gallop. She nears the small colt, the little thing writhing in pain. She is out of the flames, but only a foot from them. The dove can feel her fur scorching with every moment. Bravely she speaks up,

"CHILD! Small one! Let me help you!"

She screeches, her voice shrill with panic and hurt at seeing the horrible sight of the poor colt laying, dying before her eyes. Bravely, she steps into the flames. Her nostrils immediately clog with smoke, and her legs feel as if they may fall off. The heat is unbearable, almost making her want to flee. But she can't/ She CAN'T!. Without thinking, she lowers her dome, and puts her muzzle on the boy's barrel, pairing it with her right front hoof. Sternly, she pushes back. If the colt's writhing is working in her favor, this would mean that he would roll towards her, and almost out of the flames.

She winces in pain, tears spouting from her orbs due to the pain. Abi can feel her legs starting to blister, her fur starting to burn from her stomach and her locks being scorched short. But none of that matters. She sums up one more push, which if it worked, should get the child out of the flames and onto the stone. From there, she could attempt to carry the child. But who knows what will play out?

@[Kovoden]

{ Hope you don't mind Abi trying to help! Couldn't pass by this intriguing thread! }