Hours are blindly transformed into meaningless days; sunrise and sunsets have literally smelt together. It all felt like a dream -- one step forward...though a part of me (the awareness) can't help but wonder....how many in reverse?

Like a fly trapped within a web, our steadfast travelers become unknowingly ensnared by those foreign gods and the spell they wove. Who can say for certain how long this 'spell' went on? 

Day 1: I left the willow glade with Zahra.  My eyes, heart and mind set south.

Day 4: The willows...That was days ago...it felt like an unreasonable amount of time had passed since then. Our 'trip' seemed to be taking an awfully long while.

Day 6: Shouldn't we've been enjoying the salt-life by now? My mind is growing doubtful, suspicious -- hard to focus, hard to keep my heart hopeful, denying foul play.

Day 10: I've begun questioning our surroundings -- small signs, such as a familiar landmark... hadn't we already passed that strangely twisted tree? 

Day 11: Our march is now silent and progressively uneventful. Sleeping, eating...repeat. We keep doing the same thing...over and over.

Day 15: Lost. 

Day 20: We are walking in circles -- can't escape this forest.

Lids blast open to witness patchy light filtering from a noonday sky. The depthless pupil is wide, fear shot. Thin emeralds are distorted, murky. It takes a solid moment to sharpen and fixate on what lies around. Crown swivels, searching. Amber nostrils flare. I'd been holding my breath...why? Another grounding exhale. Creamy senses swivel, twisting this way and that -- attempting to pluck unknown danger into reality.

The only sounds are my ragged breath, a  silver song as chains strike bone, oh, and the quiet wheeze of a snotty-nose filly. Slitted pools slide to stare at Zahra, who is nestled beneath the warmth of my right wing. My (unoccupied) other half of this body is pressed firmly against the base of an old tree. Bemused I glance up; visual clues has my brain clicking out recognizable hints. This crowded path is vaguely familiar. How long had we been asleep? 

I think back. Yesterday, I remember setting out. We stopped to rest beneath a tree (this white oak) late in the morning. Today. Other images, black rimmed and fuzzy pass across my mind. A vivid dream... "G-gosh dang this place," the sound of my voice is loud and strangely foreign. As if I'd not heard myself speak in weeks...

Ha...Camon..pull yourself together.

"Zahra," gently the base of my nose disappears to ruffle her bare forehead. Dirty little forehead. "Up and at it. Shake the dust off your fuzzy rump." Limbs uncurl, stiff, but no more than usual. I reach for our goodie bag and patiently wait for the patchy urchin to rise. 

________

A day later...sometime mid-afternoon.

Rough surf, violent winds and unpredictable tidal action; that's the bliss which greets our exhausted stare. Though (in my opinion) compared to what lay inland -- this beach was paradise. White sand and sparse clouds replace all trace of snow and sleet; the air isn't nearly as chilled as before, though it is strong and cool. That crashing surf is morbidly frigid -- less appealing than during my previous visit. A lone gull squawks overhead; a creamy jet gliding on the wind with practiced ease. 

Two sets of hoof prints make their way down the soft beach side; I keep us well away from the water and the chilly spray. As an added measure to keep us BOTH dry, my tone stiffly orders, "It's far too cold to play in -- stay out of it." Small wonder my lagging traveling companion took any heed at all. Murky water licks at the surf, digging in with every stroke with clawed fingers. Singing its endless song of farewell when pulled back. Jagged coral (razor sharp, jagged coral) litter the way at least twelve feet from the water. Not far ahead lay a resting point, the fixaction of my traveling thus far. 

The simple sight of a granite lip sooths me. A dimlit opening meets our approach with all the welcoming nature can offer. This cave was still intact; perfectly preserved. Gems found their way to the trail hardened filly, they flit quietly across her worn face. "This'll be camp for awhile," I pressed deeper into the belly of this seablasted cavern, out of the wind. "Come on," this wasn't ideal...nope, but it sucked less than alternatives. I dropped the stiff satchel gently, careful not to spill the collection of items Zahra kept within and my own personal hoard. Rocks from the deep wood, sand from the beach we'd been walking on.