08-01-2017, 11:54 PM (This post was last modified: 08-02-2017, 06:27 AM by Eira.)
Wearily, the starving filly followed the worn uphill path south, towards the trees.
Many had come this way before her, the humid soil was swamped with their strange, interwoven flavours - it was noticeably compacted - and queer tussocks of grass lay beaten on the verge; curiously though, all around her was silent and that gentle blue gaze placed not even the sway of the breeze on those spindly green tree-crowns in the distance. She presumed boldly that Indra was close behind - confident now they were reunited, that they would never be apart again - and bumbled brazenly on in the lead.
It was well that they were leaving behind that horrid tide of creeping shadow. It had tormented her, inflicted on her skin a burn (more wings!), and a painful spreading rash; it had whispered with a cold, callous voice through her bones, veins and even her mind, imparting advice that she perform or suffer consequence. Before Indra had been found, the frail-hearted girl had been wracked with fear - but nothing seemed to phase him, so she felt optimistic.
As a new shade engulfed her, the staggering, tottering stride eased back reluctantly, unsure, although it seemed only to be thrown from the enormous face of the forest ahead. Eira was unused to confinement like which it offered, for the beach which had been home through her brief life was endless, light and warm; there was nothing even remotely familiar about the span of wilderness she dithered on the doorstep of.
Drawing a breath, she gulped, pressing one tiny black hoof down before the next, inching as though at a snails pace until she was passing between those cold, grey trunks. Roots bulged from their earthen bed, and blue lips ghosted across them curiously, intrigued and she marvelled round the idea that perhaps trees as giant as these, could not actually fit all those parts underground. There was no telling how deep the world was (especially this one).
Nervous steps into the vast, intimidating unknown, quickly became an inspiring, fascinating adventure, and all too soon the torment of those memories began to fade.
The rainforest in all of it’s misty, weatherbeaten, emerald glory, was about the most familiar type of terrain in this underbelly-world, and such a quietly staunch, unthreatening presence that the arachnophile was more grateful to vanish back beneath the contours of.
She had been adrift for weeks, trailing the reemergence of her father - a thing which still undeniably baffled her - and with him, reluctantly, pursuing a phenomenon unfolding out at sea. It was during that time that she discovered the possibility that another realm might have existed, quite unbelievably, beneath those tumultuous waves - goodness only knew what perils lurked below the surface.
With no more desire to play ‘fish’ then return to the portal and find the next dead ancestor there, waiting, she had returned to the only place which felt normal. Wings dipped gently as her gliding frame neared the far-beneath cliffside, and she eased toward its rim with easy, artful circles.
Above, the vast leaden sky still brewed with intent, yet no rain had streaked her drying coat in nearly two days; it hardly seemed to matter, for as first steps were placed beneath the unruffled canopy, ferny fronds and vessel-like leaves forming the undergrowth, quickly ensured she was drenched once more. Almost immediately, that frigid, sunless air provoked a tide of chilled shivers along her skin.
Carefully over boulder and root, Zahra fossicked about the littered floor for any morsel that appeared remotely appetising. Moss, thankfully (easily recognised), seemed abundant upon those harder-type planes, and so it was into moss that her teeth eventually, unsuspectingly sunk into. Instantly, a scream rose around her, violent, tortured, like a child who’d been maimed; after a frightened leap backwards, her startled eyes began to search the vicinity for any sign of the babe - so loud had it been, that she expected to find one under hoof, half trampled.
But, to her surprise, there was not another soul to be found… It seemed too, that her appetite - so innocent had seemed - had all but withered up like the skeletal leaves by her feet. "Is... is someone there?" A moronic question, there was no denying that sound...
It would never have crossed the infant’s innocent, blinkered mind to quell those gnawing hunger pains in her tummy, just by sampling a side of the local flora. Food, she knew, was honey-sweet nectar, milky white and warm, and for her and Indra, it had always been available; that was until the storm and the whirlpool of darkness… and that sudden, unbearable aloneness.
She strode with a quickening step through the shady underworld of otherwise towering trees, always cautious about the placement of each hoof. The forest around her was pretty, despite the very overwhelming grandeur, and the young girl had taken a quick liking in particular, to the numerous trees with weeping, wafting skirts; silver lines scribbled around their trunks, while stunning blooms of rich, dark purple accented the strange weeping nature of the leaves.
Pausing beneath one such tree, tiny nostrils ascended to inspect what curious flavour might decorate them. Though there was a slight tinge, it was not nearly as awe-inspiring as their hue.
As that slender, pale blue face swivelled down upon its crest, there came (as if from nowhere), a scream severe enough to rival those agonised cries before the darkness - stunned and afraid, the filly began to tremble. “Indy?” she whispered in a small, stricken voice, assuming her twin had been in pursuit through the journey. Eyes turned too, penetrating the emptiness behind her with horror pooling through their midst.
Oh no…"INDRA?" she called aloud, staggering back the way she had come; searching frantically for the path which had brought her. Wobbling wearily upon those stick thin legs, Eira fumbled back through the sodden bush, with tears boiling to the surface. A movement to the left caught the desperate dart of her gaze, and without hesitation, she lunged in that direction - "Ind…" But it was not her womb-brother, that materialised amidst the tree trunks before her.
'Who are you?" she stammered meekly, sliding through the sodden loam and stopping right before the tall stranger. With little discretion, the foal examined the winged mare, noting the likeness of their feathers, and assuming it to be a positive sign.
All of a sudden there she is, the foal who had screeched blue-murder through the forest.
Eyes behold the whelp with proper caution as she stumbles forward from the murk, but as initial inspection concludes, Zahra can find no wound or similar upon her which might have endorsed such a foul noise. All legs were accounted for, each was lanky and symmetrically coloured. Wings, too small to be useful, were pressed, fully feathered to each flank - and she noted that they were remarkably flawless for one so small and scrawny. So too was the bodice (in view) unblemished; though her pale gaze honed in on a small pair of fluttering wings which seemed, on all account, to be rather oddly placed…
The face, as eyes ascended to greet it, was blue and somewhat gaunt looking, but the discerning mare found no validation all the same, through her search.
In a slight, feathery voice, the puny creature probed for a name, and the arachnophile - hardly confident around this, impish variety - glanced away into the timber. Certainly, she was not Indra, the name that the babe had been yelling along the way.
"Zahra..." came the mumbled response a short time later, and with brewing, visible reluctance, she looked back to the child. "Who are you?" The golden-bellied girl remembered well the pointless conversation she’d had with two foals of similar… stature, a good few weeks prior - at least until the fat broad had choked their progression. "… and why were you screaming like a godforsaken banshee?"
Clearly discomforted by the proximity chosen by the other (the flea), Zahra slithered backwards three steps. It was her experience, that children were unpredictable and pompous, and it was with one priority alone, that she lingered all the longer. "Are you broken?" Charily her stare fixated once more, upon the wild, relentless flutter of minature wings.
Unused to strangers, the foal hesitated to step any nearer; neither did the other proffer an invitation to inspire that flimsy, fickle confidence within (that which fed almost exclusively off the courage of her brother). Small, downy blue ears swivelled backwards uncertainly, finding refuge in the tight hedge of silvery hair that was sprouting from the crest below. The show of boldness was easily retracted, and across the bony, pointed hocks beneath the famished rump, her thin, bony, wist-haired tail flicked apprehensively.
Eira missed her mother terribly, more still than as just a source of nourishment, and for the first time since that fateful moment when she’d been torn from her twin’s side (when sight of Cirrus and Kirottu exploding into oblivion had filled her with perplexed dread), the overbearing weight of bewilderment - a confused grief and babyish loneliness - swept suddenly through her. Burning tears welled suddenly beneath her eyes and that trembling facade fell abruptly into a dimpled, upset frown.
The voice of the stranger was without any warmth, and kindness, compassion was all the little filly had ever known; each question carved the jagged line of worry a little deeper through her tender, tired soul, and glassy gaze flitted sideways through the fence of old wood around them, wanting wretchedly for those dark chiselled features of Indra’s face to emerge from beyond. Not in those moments (or the ones ensuing), did he come.
Still on the verge of crying, she found the painted mare again and beheld her with an increasingly timid regard.
"I’m Eira. I want Indy," she bleated achingly, the first of many molten feelings channelling a stiff line towards her throat. "…I’m hungry." Even though the other had driven a savage stake of distance between them, the foal, trembling, distressed, and without age or experience enough to understand the response, shuffled nearer; an imploring expression reaching out through her rich, watery blue eyes.
Rainforest Cliffs
