My rigid jawline kneads, openly wincing and murmuring quiet relief as the cry of our lead and my name whisks in. Walk...mini me urges, come on. Thus…a battle of will ensues; though physically spurred by fierce elements (and the wisdom to not fall more behind,) the inner drive is pierced with distress, fatigue and dread. The swollen heat radiating from below…it’s a sample of the horror to come should I fall again. But...I couldn’t trek their path indefinitely…how much further? Wait…lips strain apart, gasping.

Between a hammering heartbeat and the celestial drum-fire, my perception is disorientated. I couldn’t predict that Noah is still behind me, nor that his heavy feet would easily overtake my stuttering pace…until his pale, dappled body comes swinging abruptly into view! These forelimbs quiver and stutter, forced to falter from their perseverance into a swaying halt. Nostrils flare anxiously, snorting out a sweltry mix of astonishment and barbed alarm as it sizzles over my expression. Noah!? The delicate line of my head slumps, an automated response born from the instinct to survive in a world suited for the strong. Self-doubt and unreasonable fear gnaws at my gut…fueling my deference in an effort to appease whatever grievance might arise.  

What did he...?

Nostrils flare, drinking his collected, assertive aroma. I can feel the first kiss of rain dusting my skin, icy deposits that cool the travel worn heat. Irises fixate upward, granting him my leery, stunned engrossment. These hind-feet yearn to stumble backwards; redraw the boundary of personal space. But his large, damp face has already sealed the distance between us. Eyelids broaden, regarding him cautiously; heavy wings resettle against my sides, providing isolation against the elements.

Above us, the storm becomes relentless; bold strokes of white outline his towering frame, contrasting the dark backdrop. Though, the rational part of my brain didn’t automatically assume he meant me harm – his unknown goals collide against muddled comprehension and a year’s worth of prior experience. Disorientation mocks our situation; my subconscious becomes less understanding and more receptive to base emotions – dismay, distrust – the air is a breeding ground. My wounded limb shivers, triggering a miserable wince as I lift the leg apprehensively from the ground and replant that wretched foot.

When his creamy lips shuffle apart, ears creep fractionally from their saturated nest, foreseeing a nonsense ramble in my imminent future.  But the single utterance is simple enough to overhear and understand. Wait. I understood the meaning of that word…Tense muscles constrict uneasily; brows furrow, washing my regard with fresh befuddlement. Why? My eyes follow as he turns from me, looking to the apex of our journey. Rich tones plead above the storm, reaching for our trail header. By now, those icy droplets have begun to fall in greater number; the wind snarls, whistling by like a siren as it echoes across the rocky alcoves.

A response comes from somewhere ahead, loudly following Noah as he noses the area just adjacent to the path. My throat constricts, warning flags spring up. I recognized the song of said speaker, but I couldn’t understand his foreign notes, nor why he bellowed with frustration…anger?

No…that faint voice whispers, tailing Noah and the angry warrior some distance beyond…I can walk.

With his body clear of the path, effectively removing the hamper from my view -- I find our cloth laden leader. His agile toes skid down the mountainside. Unsure of his intention or reasoning, the front half of my body replies on the notion that he meant for us to retreat. I flinch (limp) a handful of steps sideways as he draws near. Nostrils flare, filled to the brim with charged, savage air. The storm feeds aversion; inducing a perception that his proximity and scowling, enormous annoyance had a reason…and could dangerous. When he boldly strays closer, my courage snaps like a twig – I balk from the pale, gilded stag. Hindfeet stumble over the loose gravel; for a second, heart snagging terror and confusion darken my logically self.  

I steady myself just as Noah turns back; a fierce shiver races down my spine…eyelids flutter, blinking moisture from my eyes. Calm done…my subconscious murmurs, attempting to sooth my fraying nerves…nothing to…the voice of encouragement dies out as my fledged savior inches forward, speaking softly. Irises lock on him, grounding and watching anxiously for the solution...the translation. Toulouse steps upward...assuming the lead again...just as another cry vibrates the air! My head jerks upward to follow the sound, this injured leg rises, pulling beyond Noah’s straining lips and carrying me a step or so from his umbrella-like comfort.

Thunder consumes those unfamiliar voices as two other men join our group – their approach is defiant and unwary. Our two become a quadruple, a cluster of giants. Storm clouds darken my eyes; their alien songs are fast and loud…I couldn’t begin to understand them. Ivories grind, fighting against the tension of claustrophobia. So many bodies all closing in at once! The end of my rope begins to fray; lips curl backwards, unsealing my clenched teeth. Wings flex apart, allowing the wind and rain to stream down into previously untouched crevices.  

Hindquarters tense as the latest addition approaches my thin bubble; ears flatten deeper into the tangled array of matted hair. Every muscle is taunt, providing them a clear warning to back off. Short grunts blare free, misting into the cold, shivering air. Wild, untamed emotions are freed, fueling the flame of uncertainty and uptight horror. I aim to pull from their mist, shifting upward; frantically skidding along the gravel for traction. Hindquarters quiver; my wet, heavy tail lashes – attempting to sense the dark, crowded area behind/around me – anticipating the need to strike at the slightest perception of aggression.

OC: Sorry I took so long!