[ Respond | Andarin: The Mountains ]
Posted by chapal on March 13, 2009, 12:42 pm, in reply to "a necklace of stars,"
71.42.216.68
His eyes snapped open. Mist played across his withers and the breeze kissed his dark tail. The sky was overcast, but the day was young and the spy’s head was filled with a dull buzz. Three questions came to his mind: Where was She?, where was he?, and how had he gotten here? He knew these mists did not belong to the Element – they did not sparkle tantalizingly like Ersatz did – and he could not feel his lightning rattling in his bones.
The spy tried hard to remember – but all that he could was finally confessing his love for the flaxen Shadow that had moved so easily through his dreams – and the storm that had raged on when their elements finally combined. Unlike the way others might have reacted, Chapal did not become frantic at the memory loss, the foreign place or the hopelessness of his situation. Instead, he gathered up his gray legs and wound through the spindly trees.
It took hours to get out of that forest, which twisted and turned so many times that he could not remember if he was retracing his steps over and over again. But eventually, the mist subsided and the day gave way to dusk and he found the treeline. His dark eyes glimmered over the expanse of frost-tipped grass before him and he realized that he did not really know the way back home. He did not have any idea where he was – nothing was familiar. So, he tossed his head skywards and found a cluster of stars that looked familiar (there was only one cluster because Chapal did not stargaze frequently.) Using this as his guide, he began to traipse across the prairie at a harried speed.
Chapal did not pay attention to the passing of time; he barely ate, slept or drank so by the time he reached a familiar beach, he looked almost ghostly. This was compounded, of course, by the empty shoreline. Nothing but unrecognizable carcasses littered the beach and Chapal nearly fell to his knees. What had happened? For the first time since waking up, he was fearful. What if She was one of them?
Drifting from body to body, he inspected them - pushing his nose against the necrotic flesh to assure himself that none of them belonged to her. At the edge of Solira, he paused, his eyes drifting over the place that he’d once called home, but it had never truly been his home, as he’d told her that day. And so, without an ounce of remorse (except, perhaps, for those who had lost their lives on the beach) he turned and left.
He was sure of where to go next. He knew Her, and he knew She would not have gone to Wolfrange (yet another place he’d once pretended was home.) She would have gone to the desert, to the Vipers, and so that was where he went next. Ni’Srilan was the place he’d spent the least amount of time so as he wound through the dunes, haggard and hungry, his path became a bit jumbled. He paused to rest for a few hours in the cool night of the red desert and then set off again. When he ran into his fire-breathing friend Anatole, he did not pause to greet the buckskin but instead yelled in passing, “Have you seen Her?” Anatole merely shrugged.
Perhaps, then, Chapal thought – perhaps She’d been stolen.
Wolfrange was next, of course, and when he found it he found Her. He could smell Her and feel Her wind and relief coursed cold and reassuring through his body. The lightning sparked on his withers now and he smiled, the sunken hollows of his face brightening.
She was here, he thought – and he was finally home.
Message Thread:
« Back to thread