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Sulfur gases dissolve into humid alkali. Bewitched lava is bartered for a sweeping row of serrated, razor-rock beaches. Which might’ve been lovely -even joyful- to witness beneath the birthing pains of dawn...but the sun is far off. Those sandy dunes are enveloped with merciless darkness and their foamy upsurges look wicked; like thousands of tiny teeth catching upon humble radiance and scratching a noticeable boundary from tide to sand. Distracted (and ever the more bored with the unimpressive scenery) I scan out of habit; sinking to my internal shelter rather than focus on that somber, rigid coast.
So much has happened…
The initial shock (fear, excitement) had worn off, but those raw emotions left me to soak in a pool of unanswered questions. Noah’s preference for silence and my handicap gave me permission to mull over the events from hours ago…but as our flight wears on…my subconscious becomes weary and dismissal. We agree only on the logical truth that nobody could solve all their problems in a single night. Sighing, I let my focus return to the present – bright optics slide to my blistered, windblown eagle.
He (as usual) is tireless, unflinching. Driven by unspoken goals. Temples furrow, rejecting those concerns even as they beg for acknowledgement. Mini me cracks her groggy, red rimmed eyes open and whispers, ‘we’ve traveled half the world with him…talk to Noah.’ I frown and the thorns in my heart twinge in warning. I’m torn between the logic of squelching my desires (a struggle of self-confidence and ability,) or embracing…answering those raw (unaddressed) emotions that lure me to his side…
No longer have I been following him out of obligation, or guilt. Surely, losing him would be a mercy, for he spends his waking hours as my teacher, friend and warrior. All for a foreign woman…one who has neither thanked enough or repaid his boundless generosity. During these past few months I’ve practiced his tongue (in public and private,) we’ve shared dens, meals and adventures. His grace is unending – Noah’s patience is without imperfection.
How long would I hide behind my shield, falsifying a lack of understanding that is required to express myself to a wonderful man that has shared everything? …And yet…hardly anything. My skin tingles and the pulse within me is loud, quickened and anxious. Jowls clench.
He…
No, we…
What are we?
What is he searching for in these wild…beautiful lands?
Though the sky is truculent – a pure, splashed canvas of starlight and shadow – my neglectful (trusting) focus declines to heed our latest mystery until the (surprising) incandescent glow can’t just be seen…but felt too. That sudden, light embrace of lukewarm air ensnares between feathers and circles frigid contours. While the haze of distraction ebbs away, these temples constrict and disrupt the inattentive expression on my face. Oh my! Optics return to him, wading through the anxious flashes as they appear. Inwardly, I seize that sapling fearlessness he showed by example. Our path is doomed to cross into the unknown…but there is strength waiting in the wings...just reach for it. My subconscious stirs from her dozing recline; I sharpen, embracing heightened awareness while shedding the groggy aftereffect found during extended travel.
These shoulders heave my feathers upward, throttling to pull me alongside the guardsman. While staying habitually mindful of our wingspan, I warily scan the rocky, unforgiving terrain below us. That tangerine hue reveals itself to be a volcano. But...no veins of blue...this one has been forced to bubble and spew in a pit. Which (considering our brush with the unnatural world) is fairly normal. Or at least, certainty less mythical. Nostrils screw, grunting distastefully. Our space is foul with pungent gases, the rot of destruction. Those horrible scents are bearable only by how the hovel kept nighttime chills at bay. The atmosphere close by is flush with warmth, but near the lip of hell…it is broiling. Shimmering waves of charred heat ripple as the crackling, fizzy lava churns aggressively.
Fascination brings me lower, but I'm wise enough to keep distance from those confusing updrafts of conflicting air around the circular pot. These tingling muscles thaw out. Eyelids squint, shielding their charges from prolonged exposure of the frothy, molten furnace. My subconscious gawks, she (in every way) is mystified by the bright, deadly furnace. While curving into a second loop, I catch sight of something in the dark with edges that are catching dying rays of that orange, florescent light.
Recognition is swift.
A cave?
Inquisitiveness contests with the rational part of my brain; and its victor brings a lean smile into those captivated rims, “look,” the butt of my snout tilts down – gesturing to that shadowy place, “a cave.” His tongue forms with surprising ease. My head tilts up, searching, imploring, “follow!” One ear swivels left and back (listening for an answer) while the other presses forward as I flex the front half of my body into a slope, choking my speed...until at last...these feet are clicking upon crumbled sheets of rock.
Though hell fire isn’t far off, the heat emitting from it at ground level is surprisingly meek compared to the emissions above.
The dark mouth radiates a cool, musky odor – which is far less offensive than the gases spewing from purgatory. Also, it isn’t a small den; the entrance alone is wide enough to easily accommodate Noah’s girth and height. Nostrils flare as I lower my head, sampling old scents upon that threshold. To my surprise..flavors are stale (though not fresh.) We seem to be stuck in the middle of nowhere...yet, this cavern is still in use. Fearful that my fledgling courage might vanish at the next moment…I step just inside the doorway and find out that the floor is progressively leaning downward. As if the cave is begging for those who step inside to enter.
@Noah
So much has happened…
The initial shock (fear, excitement) had worn off, but those raw emotions left me to soak in a pool of unanswered questions. Noah’s preference for silence and my handicap gave me permission to mull over the events from hours ago…but as our flight wears on…my subconscious becomes weary and dismissal. We agree only on the logical truth that nobody could solve all their problems in a single night. Sighing, I let my focus return to the present – bright optics slide to my blistered, windblown eagle.
He (as usual) is tireless, unflinching. Driven by unspoken goals. Temples furrow, rejecting those concerns even as they beg for acknowledgement. Mini me cracks her groggy, red rimmed eyes open and whispers, ‘we’ve traveled half the world with him…talk to Noah.’ I frown and the thorns in my heart twinge in warning. I’m torn between the logic of squelching my desires (a struggle of self-confidence and ability,) or embracing…answering those raw (unaddressed) emotions that lure me to his side…
No longer have I been following him out of obligation, or guilt. Surely, losing him would be a mercy, for he spends his waking hours as my teacher, friend and warrior. All for a foreign woman…one who has neither thanked enough or repaid his boundless generosity. During these past few months I’ve practiced his tongue (in public and private,) we’ve shared dens, meals and adventures. His grace is unending – Noah’s patience is without imperfection.
How long would I hide behind my shield, falsifying a lack of understanding that is required to express myself to a wonderful man that has shared everything? …And yet…hardly anything. My skin tingles and the pulse within me is loud, quickened and anxious. Jowls clench.
He…
No, we…
What are we?
What is he searching for in these wild…beautiful lands?
Though the sky is truculent – a pure, splashed canvas of starlight and shadow – my neglectful (trusting) focus declines to heed our latest mystery until the (surprising) incandescent glow can’t just be seen…but felt too. That sudden, light embrace of lukewarm air ensnares between feathers and circles frigid contours. While the haze of distraction ebbs away, these temples constrict and disrupt the inattentive expression on my face. Oh my! Optics return to him, wading through the anxious flashes as they appear. Inwardly, I seize that sapling fearlessness he showed by example. Our path is doomed to cross into the unknown…but there is strength waiting in the wings...just reach for it. My subconscious stirs from her dozing recline; I sharpen, embracing heightened awareness while shedding the groggy aftereffect found during extended travel.
These shoulders heave my feathers upward, throttling to pull me alongside the guardsman. While staying habitually mindful of our wingspan, I warily scan the rocky, unforgiving terrain below us. That tangerine hue reveals itself to be a volcano. But...no veins of blue...this one has been forced to bubble and spew in a pit. Which (considering our brush with the unnatural world) is fairly normal. Or at least, certainty less mythical. Nostrils screw, grunting distastefully. Our space is foul with pungent gases, the rot of destruction. Those horrible scents are bearable only by how the hovel kept nighttime chills at bay. The atmosphere close by is flush with warmth, but near the lip of hell…it is broiling. Shimmering waves of charred heat ripple as the crackling, fizzy lava churns aggressively.
Fascination brings me lower, but I'm wise enough to keep distance from those confusing updrafts of conflicting air around the circular pot. These tingling muscles thaw out. Eyelids squint, shielding their charges from prolonged exposure of the frothy, molten furnace. My subconscious gawks, she (in every way) is mystified by the bright, deadly furnace. While curving into a second loop, I catch sight of something in the dark with edges that are catching dying rays of that orange, florescent light.
Recognition is swift.
A cave?
Inquisitiveness contests with the rational part of my brain; and its victor brings a lean smile into those captivated rims, “look,” the butt of my snout tilts down – gesturing to that shadowy place, “a cave.” His tongue forms with surprising ease. My head tilts up, searching, imploring, “follow!” One ear swivels left and back (listening for an answer) while the other presses forward as I flex the front half of my body into a slope, choking my speed...until at last...these feet are clicking upon crumbled sheets of rock.
Though hell fire isn’t far off, the heat emitting from it at ground level is surprisingly meek compared to the emissions above.
The dark mouth radiates a cool, musky odor – which is far less offensive than the gases spewing from purgatory. Also, it isn’t a small den; the entrance alone is wide enough to easily accommodate Noah’s girth and height. Nostrils flare as I lower my head, sampling old scents upon that threshold. To my surprise..flavors are stale (though not fresh.) We seem to be stuck in the middle of nowhere...yet, this cavern is still in use. Fearful that my fledgling courage might vanish at the next moment…I step just inside the doorway and find out that the floor is progressively leaning downward. As if the cave is begging for those who step inside to enter.
@Noah
