The blind leading the blind

VALKYRIE She stood in the storm Valkyrie, after a small amount of time spent repeating the circuit which had originally ensnared her progress that day (this adventure before the coppery-coated mare had been discovered), found herself freed from the labyrinth of wild timber and blinking smoke, at last. Both impressed with herself, entertaining the smug notion that she had so cunningly fooled the Rift into renouncement and relieved that the ordeal could now be forgotten, the pallid Shieldmaiden led her charge briskly through the falling rain along a well-worn path towards the desert hills—a direction that would fail to introduce the other to the unconscionable herd of Halyven. There was little opportunity for small talk; less still, reason. Flared nostrils pumped and sucked steadily at the water-saturated air, feeding the billow-like lungs within, whose thirst became all the more insatiable the harder she pushed. Plumes of white steam ascended like an aura around her hot, marching figure, so too the breath which spewed from the fissure between her soggy, rosy lips. The bronze earth beneath her stride was thoroughly drowned. Deep rivulets, once miniature, Scorch-baked canyons, wove intricate courses down the hill which fell away  behind them and steeply down to the right. These rushed rapidly backwards, to join the frothing fury of white floodwater that gushed along still faster than Valkyrie could have ever hoped to travel; it spewed out from a cave inserted into the very terrain they climbed, perhaps a clever shortcut en route to the great southern sea. A dismissive smile snaked briefly through her expression—the ocean and its silly detail held little value in her grand scheme. It was for that reason that the city in the murky, bone-chilling depths evaded mention as she paused suddenly, quite breathlessly, at the pinnacle of a hard-clay hillock; turning with a broad, ‘managerial’ smile, the self-employed High-Maiden and self-professed (for) freedom fighter, fed the other mare (between breaths), a very biased account of all the places she and K’yarie had previously passed through, gesturing with her dripping muzzle towards each location in respect to their current position. Of course she made no mention of Rixen and Roscorro’s posse—bitterness soured her saliva as thought of it crossed her mind. “Any questions?” she asked as the heavy pound of her heart began to slow. It was a large quantity of information, Valkyrie knew, so she was more than happy to address any particulars which might now arise—attaching to it specific vagueness and personal preferences as she saw fit. The smaller horse with the wings behind her ears, stood perhaps around the same elevation as her companion, careful to assume the highest point on that slippery slope beneath them; subtly inflating her own image as she perched should any watching, wonder who was of greater importance. Given the other’s obvious lack of commitment, the haughty Shieldmaiden figured that this would be the point they parted ways. and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails.

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