Searching for a needle in a haystack

Eira... Although many long months had passed since the rash had first appeared upon her then, unblemished skin, the small blue orphan had not for one second forgotten the whispering voice which had accompanied it.  Nothing before it had been so intrusive, entering her very intimate thoughts and extorting her vulnerable position in the world, for the sake of her own comfort - put simply, Eira was to complete a set of three tasks, one of which was to harvest the organs of the rare Living Tree. She had been trawling the rainforest for most of that time, searching for the elusive creature who she could only assume, looked just like any of the other ancient timber residents crowded together. While her new companions, Vynter and Roscorro attended to business of their own, the emaciated filly took up the search once again. Sensibly she remained in the same near vicinity as the others, but foraged with fierce focus about the roots, looking for any sign that one might not be as ordinary as it seemed. Drench’s relentless downpour had already melted away the scabs formed with the aid of the clever colt’s herbs, and though the body-wide wound was clean and without puss for now, its magical fringes festered and the raw, exposed flesh stung agonisingly. As she fossicked, slipping precariously atop a broad ridge of surface roots, there came as though from nowhere, a sudden volt of lightening. It struck close beside her deadened hind leg, and as grounded into the saturated, littered soil below, the hair upon her stood up rigid in their grey follicles - the second curse, the second mention of that heinous voice through her subconscious. Since that moment (another set of three tasks prescribed), the limb had tingled and grown numb, and sporadic forks of electrical energy exploded to life just shy of her thrilled flesh. As the light burst beside her, a violent crack splitting the forest’s natural quietude, Eira leapt sideways and accidentally tripped across rock; the rock was lathered in Screaming Moss - and scream it did. Horrified, for she usually stepped with the most meticulous care, the blue horse stood unfortunately paralysed with fear and her long leonine tail clenched down hard between the blackened points of her hocks. Panicked blue eyes darted through the undergrowth, all too aware of the dangers such carelessness attracted. "I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden

Notes: Eira needs to find and harvest organs from the Living Tree :(  Also, any are welcome to join!