Rainforest Cliffs
Eira could never understand why it felt so inclined to assault the world around them, innocents usually, whether equid like her or wildlife avoiding her path—none were spared his unfriendly tactic. When they paused, the young winged horse revealing the misfortune surrounding their path, the snowman was able to catch up, aiming a cold, wet missile at his oblivious companion, as she revealed the misfortune surrounding their circumstance. Dark eyes swerved to find him squaring a sharp, reprimanding look as they went, before returning to Amarantha who had taken the news with surprisingly unexpected poise—certainly she, the unlucky waif, had felt rather swamped by a wave of sticky pessimism. Her ears pricked up though, as the calm words of the older, wiser mare revealed a fresh plan, and Eira was mighty glad to relinquish the responsibility of leadership that very second. Her whole exterior seemed to slim down a little; the chewed, butchered feathers flattened, her neck stooped still further, and she presented a more natural submissiveness than the bold, confident display she’d been pretending. So too did a sigh slip past her lips, confirming her relief. As Amarantha began to turn, leading down a path that seemed to parallel the plunge to the beach below (though the taste of salt soured the air, the ocean was still well out of their view thanks to the thick timber and shrubbery), the little winged horse suggested silently, “There are trees with weeping branches and silver veins. I have slept beneath them before.” Then, before their search had gained any momentum, there was a scrabbling sound through the thick forest litter, and both horses turned upon their haunches to meet the surprise arrival of another—Rixen. Through the dimness, evenings smooth shade folding down upon them all, Eira traced the familiar line of his handsome headdress, strewn, of course, with vine, and the series of diamonds that descended his proud-looking, elevated face. “Rixen!” Her thoughts beamed allowed, yet unable to deviate or distinguish between the minds that were present. The timid child wanted so very much to fold beneath the curves of his powerful figure into safety, but her bent forelegs held position and she remained close to her stormy-coloured friend. In turn, the stallion addressed them both. Rapidly her huge head bounced, both agreeing and accepting his fair statement as an invitation, and though she considered speaking on behalf of Amarantha, there seemed to be no need—the horned mare addressed the Kingdom of Halyven’s benevolent ruler without hesitation. A soft, placid smile swept through Eira’s hollowed expression, confirming the tale to be true. |
