[WP10] (Sapphire of the Desert|Stalking Bear|Turning Path)

[Kinu]

Sapph ran. She ran as fast as she could. She ran until her legs ached and her heart stung within her breast. Until every muscle in her body screamed at her in unison for mercy. To stop. To rest. But she couldn't. She simply couldn't face the swamp. Something burned within her. Something she remembered as if in dreaming though fading fast, as when you awaken from sleep only to find the dream slipping from your memory. It was the only way she could explain it. She dream't of the desert almost every night. Of golden sands and a crystal oasis. Of warm night winds and the lonely howl of a hunter in the distance. It would have brought tears to her eyes were she not so weary from running.

Her legs were soaked to the shoulders, as was her chest and belly, which caused a shiver to course its way through her body while the cool night air licked at her heels with the eagerness of a thirsty dog. That beautiful blue pelt, which normally she was so proud of and kept nearly pristine, was in shambles. Gnarled by twigs and sporting leafy adornments, the vine from a mangrove tree even had the nerve to tag along in the length of her tail. Yet she kept running. She heeded not her appearance, nor her aches, nor her desire to stop. It called to her and she couldn't stop herself from thinking that around the next bend, through this next grove of trees or even over the approaching rise it would be there waiting for her. Rising like a giant in the distance, flat lands and rolling dunes and dry earth. Dry earth. Motherfather she missed dry land. How these Kimeti did it living in this moist environment all the days of their lives she couldn't fathom. Sapph panted heavily as she put on an extra burst of speed and tore at the ground with her hooves, causing a cascade of sloppy mud to rain down behind her.

Almost there, she was almost there... so close. Please. Just be there. She prayed to the night sky, her head even lifting to view the stars which were.. they were growing different. Their positions seemed so familiar to her now, more familiar than those at the heart of the swamp. Excitement blossomed in her chest like a flower and she felt her body leap in response. She was nearing the edge of the swamplands. She was almost home. Sapphire of the Desert laughed into the sky, silvery bells of joyful mirth rang from her as she carried on. All pain forgotten, her exhaustion an old memory, she would make it. She felt the first wave of warm winds seeping into the noticeably dryer area as the swamp, very gradually, became drier the closer it got to the fringes which connected it with the Deserts of legend.

She breathed in deeply and exhaled in relief. Her run slowing to a swift trot, tail swishing back and forth in elation she felt her hoof hit hard packed ground and suddenly she stopped. Still as stone the does eyes became distant. Her ears perked as though listening to a sound only she could truly hear. 'Go back.' What? Sapph furrowed her brow and ever-so-slightly cocked her head. Go back? Every fiber of her being pulled her back and as she lifted a hoof to step backwards she just as quickly stamped it down again. No! No, no, no.. this was everything she wanted. She could see the sand, she could almost taste the oasis.. she didn't want to go back. Shaking her neck and tossing her head she reached forward, willing her body to move and yet she was glued to the spot. She couldn't. The Acha cried. Her chest heaved and her head lowered as she painted the earth with her tears. She couldn't go.

The moon weighed heavily in the sky, pregnant and silver with a cluster of stars by its side to play nursemaid. In the distance an owl hooted low and melancholy which caused her to lift her head. The longing for the desert began to fade then, the desire leaving her as her eyes grew dull and the Ache won. How could she consider leaving? This was her home now. This was where she would remain. Slowly turning the Acha gave one last long look behind her at the winking sands in the fading distance and sighed. With a kick and a a swish of her tail she started back for the swamp. Running headlong into its embrace once again.  

[Kinu]

Stalking Bear (Freddy) was walking around in circles. He didn't know why, he didn't ask himself why, he didn't even stop to reconsider his current frenzied actions. It were as if someone had flipped a switch in broad daylight and made him crazy. At that thought he did finally stop, his eyes wide with fear. Was he going crazy? In the day time? No way.. not the day time. That was his happy time. That was the time when everything was good. Night was the bad time. The bad, bad, darkness that made him a bad, bad, boy. He was aware of this all distantly. Like when you know you've done something you probably shouldn't have but can't remember details, or the action itself, well enough to feel remorseful. He couldn't be a bad boy under the sun. No. It just wasn't the way. So with this fear and uncertainty set firmly in his mind he began to pace again.

Circling and circling and panicking on the little hill of soft, tender grass which was becoming more and more packed with every new circle. His large, heavy hooves smooshing the tiny shoots and tearing up the delicate earth. STOMP. SMOOSH, CLOMP. SSSHLP. PLOP. STOMP. Freddy furrowed his brows in consternation. He wanted to go somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't here. But he didn't know where he wanted to go. He couldn't remember. It was a place from so far back in his memory. Back before he'd come here. He was so young when he'd traveled into the swamp, that was after.. Freddy stopped cold. His eyes wide again though his pupils were terribly constricted as though he'd just witnessed something horrific. The bad times. Suddenly, and with a speed you wouldn't expect of such a large creature, he reared up and shook his head violently before slamming his front hooves into the ground. The hill shook ferociously beneath him as hoof connected with earth. WHOOMPH! The evidence left behind were two large indents well imprinted into the mound. He gazed down at them, through them, and began to pace again. Humming as he did so.

He remembered the cold, the icy winds, the jagged rocks so sharp one had to be mindful of where they stepped for impalement by slipping was an easy accomplishment. He remembered the smell of the mountains, the taste of waters hidden deep within stalagmite riddled caves. That was as far as he allowed himself to remember. Anything else was bad. There were no good things about his homeland. So why was he thinking about it? About the good things? He realized then that he wanted to go back. This feeling was telling him to go back, to remember what he missed. He couldn't. He would never go there again. Not for the good. The good wasn't worth it.

Panic set in on the big Totoma, his pupils dilating wildly and in a flash he was lumbering down the hill like a great whale. He'd never go back! NEVER! KERSMASH! His giant horned head collided with an old, unsteady mangrove tree which groaned, creaked and with one final protesting snap toppled over into the water sending mud flying and birds flapping wildly into the sky. Stunned as he watched it, and maybe a little stunned by his collision, the feeling began to abate. A sigh of relief swept over him which caused a rippling effect throughout his entire frame. Good riddance to that. The Totoma gave a snort as if settling the matter entirely and, returning to his jolly daytime disposition once more, trotted off into the swamp to find his rag-tag group of friends. An eerie tune rumbling deep in his chest, humming, as he went along.  

[Kinu]

Small pebbles flew beneath quick hooves as Turning Path raced along a dry patch of ground. The sun beating down upon his back only lifted his spirits higher as he went, while his body sang his praises for the exercise. This was the life. Shaking his long mane in the golden light of heaven he gave a joyful cry and grinned, beaming at the path ahead which twisted and turned through old fallen trees and large mossy rocks. He was still in the swamp, but he was dreaming of home. He remembered the plains, the long, rolling grasslands that seemed to go on forever and the turning, winding paths of the higher hills. He missed the challenging routes they would take as they raced one another and the beautiful ponds and lakes that would signal the races end. He remembered crashing into the cool, clear waters, usually the winner, and he remembered what it felt like to buck and swim and live life to the fullest. He missed it so badly now. Even more-so than usual.

Turning Path changed course suddenly and in doing so leaped over several fallen logs, vaulting each one with an ease that appeared second nature. How long had he been in this place? The swamp was home now but it would never replace the plains. It was like night and day. He remembered the harems. They could be legendary in size and he'd always wanted his own. He'd been far too young at the time to even consider it and he wondered if he'd been holding back on breeding in general simply because he wanted one of his own to raise his children in. Nah, he'd just been lazy was all. The Kiokote gave a humored snort and kicked a branch clean off a log as he leapt over it. His hooves clicking against the rocky road beneath him upon landing. He could run back to the plains. Back to his homeland. It would be so easy. Like taking a stroll to Ghost Thistle's mound for a gathering. He toyed with the idea and before he knew it he was running as fast as his legs would carry him in one direction. He wasn't certain why he'd chosen it particularily but he knew it was more than simply because the way was clear. He felt it in his bones. If he ran for long enough he'd reach the plains.

The thought almost made him giddy. Could he really go back? He'd been in the swamp for so long. He'd made a life here. A home. But he wanted one last taste of the plains so badly it caused his heart to beat wildly within his chest. To race the plains, the twisting hills and the Kiokote ladies.. maybe he could convince them to join him in the swamp and really start a proper herd of his own. The further he got from the swamp the more he began to doubt his decision and in time his pace began to gradually slow. Would anyone be there? Or were all the Kiokote in the swamp like he was? He remembered seeing so many migrate to the swamplands, in fact he remembered there being such a multitude of migrating Kiokote that the probability of any remaining in the plains seemed less and less likely. Slower still his pace suddenly rolled into a quick trot. Was it worth it? To go alone? To be there alone? All of his good times had been with others, with his friends and family. Not alone. He would love to see it, yes, but without someone to share it there was a certain something missing from the entire experience. It wouldn't be the same.

The nagging ache that he should turn around became overwhelming with each step, he was so far from the swamp. The feeling simply grew and grew, consuming his desire to return to the plains and causing him to divert quickly, back around, back towards the swamp in a great arch that caused earth to shower into the air and clumbs of sod to rain messily over stone and fallen tree trunks. Eh, it would still be there. He'd find someone to go along with him and THEN he'd go back. Just for a visit. Giving an excited leap he kicked his speed into a higher gear and with the wind picking up he felt like he was flying instead of running. Oh yes, he'd find some Kiokote girls and show them how to really race the plains.. then maybe he'd convince them to take up the old ways and he'd get that harem after all. Good natured laughter followed him as he went. In his dreams.