My lilly like feet dragged throu the tar. It stuck deeply in between every hair on my foot, slowly reaching up my cannon. I flipped my long hair onto my back, allowing no tar to tough the child's future bed. For if it was saved there needed to be a place for it. The doe was too far away from me to save, I glanced over to her in the chaos with big sorrowful eyes, protruding from my dished, lightning bolted face. Tears streamed from my eyelashes, blurring my vision even more, but I had to stay focused. "THE CHILD! THE CHILD!" I cried, pain, and desperation screeched in my petrified voice. The child had to be safe. No matter whom it was safe with. It had to be safe.

The black, gooey death burned my nerves. My frogs screamed with pain. But my small, determined feet would not stop trudging through the tar to the child. I broke through the chaos, shattering it like a bullet. Nothing could get in my way of reaching the child. The The tar seemed to come into the forest in waves, becoming deeper, and deeper, all I could do was stuggle harder, and harder to stay afloat in the burning substance. My legs were burned, Now almost numb with the excruciating pain. My mostrils heaved in and out the thick black smoke looming in the air. It smelled like death, sinking deep into my skull, it helped my brain realize the serious danger we were all in. We were not in your everyday tar pit, we were in hell.

The only light illumination the horror scene was the last lingering light from the does antlers, protruding deep into the clouds of death. Her light was the only visible light in the opaque darkness, causing me to crash into, and bounce off of the other horses. I couldn't hear crap. My ear-drums were clogged with dust, and dirt, letting no audible sound to my brain, which was pounding, inside my head like a sledgehammer. Adrenaline coursed through my small veins, overloading my petite body. All I could do was mumble a halfhazard sorry after crashing into the shoulder, or rump of another. At least I thought I mumbled, I couldnt hear my own voice. Most of their sizes much larger than mine, allowing them to move alot more easily through the black lake of fire.

The Child never left my mind through the chaos. With every pound in my skull, all I could think of was the horrors, knocking on the shell of the egg. It was inly a matter of time, before the egg was no longer somewhat safe.

Go. I chanted in my head.

Faster.

The tar is nothing.

Wounds will heal.

Death will not.