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Hell wasn't fire and brimstone with a demon prowling in the shadows. It wasn't getting trapped in boring herd meetings for hours on end, and it certainly wasn't chipping a hoof on an ill placed stone. No, hell was this godforsaken mountain.
Somehow, likely through copious amounts of dark magic and evil spells, the rocks up here were still coated in a thick crust of ice. Most of it had poured into icicle daggers that shivered threateningly in the light breeze. It was slick, uneven, and far colder than it had any right to be.
Ezital couldn't say for certain what had possessed him to drag himself up the cliffs until his flanks were heaving, his breath painted the air white, and he spat curses at every passing rock. There were a lot of rocks, and they all deserved to hear what he thought of them. He hadn't been in the Basin for long, and his impulsive wanderings shouldn't have kicked in just yet. Why should they drag him here? He didn't like heights, climbing, or the cold for that matter. But when he'd risen this morning and seen this fringe of mountains in the distance, he'd started walking.
After several hours of this nonsense, he had to put his hoof down. He was no mountain horse and this place would surely be the death of him.
He spun on his hind legs and froze, foreleg hanging comically in midair. Because several feet away, there was something nestled into the rocks. He edged closer, ears straining forward and nostrils flared and fluttering. It smelled weird, like something tropical and faintly salty. It looked even weirder.
As the tip of his lip quivered ever so close, the thing wriggled in the snow. Ezital was suddenly half collapsed over a fallen tree ten feet away in his haste to escape. He snorted in earnest now, pacing along the tree line, waiting for the thing to make another move.
The small movements had freed it from the rocks, but now it remained prone and still. He crept closer, feeling oddly drawn in. It didn't move again, not even when he nosed over the curved surface, covered in coarse, stringy dark hair. It was warm. Warm and faintly pulsing with life.
It clearly didn't belong out here, it was far too vulnerable and defenseless for a place like this. He glanced around, half expecting a figure to melt from the trees and stake a claim.
"Hello?" he called, feeling incredibly awkward. "I think you lost your… coconut?"
But of course, there was no one to answer and the job had fallen at his feet. Sighing to himself, he folded his legs underneath his belly and curled up around the thing like a mother hen. They sat in silence until Ezital inevitably grew bored, roughly ten minutes.
He rambled for a while, filling the silence with a steady stream of whatever happened to pop into his mind. Mostly he talked about his life before Helovia, before he'd really experienced cohabitating with other horses. It had been on his mind recently, what with him joining a new herd and all. But that seemed a bit too dreary and serious, so he interjected a few jokes that he could snicker at. He liked to think that the thing was tittering at his elbow along with him.
It gave a particularly pronounced shudder (after one of Ezital's better jokes, it was the one about the seagull) and split down the side. He watched, rapt, as two little talons poked through the gap and brushed his nose. The rest of the shell broke away in little pieces and revealed a round face with two big, soulful eyes. Its fur was damp from the inside of the egg, plastered to its skin like a greasy teenager. After several seconds, its mouth gaped like a newborn fledgling in a nest and it let out a happy little squeak.
It… it… it was so ugly.
ooc: it's a sloth!
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