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 Posted: Fri Apr 15, 2011 9:35 pm
 Kiokote clutch!Of the first wave of Kiokote who came to the Swamp, one was a mare heavy in the later stages of her pregnancy. She pulled through, until she could finally see this land which had been plagued her dreams for months, and discretely fulfilled the promise she had made to herself when she had first realized the eggs she bore within her; that these new lives she would create would be made in the swamp, where they belonged. She hid the eggs, each one of them half-submerged in the swamp, or buried hastily beneath the bloom of life so different than what she had come to expect of her own familiar lands. There, spring was heralded by birdsong and golden wheat and grey skies rolling with the underbellies of hungry clouds. Everything seemed to open up, to show new opportunity and new options on the plains-- here, things became dense, and compact, and stifling. Water creeped higher up what little dry land there was, and she was completely unable to see the sky through the branches heavy with bright foliage and vines. In this new landscape, she had no idea where she had hidden her eggs to protect them from creatures she could not have imagined, and worried for them now. Her heart ached, feeling more alone than she had since she had found the rag-tag herd who had come to the swamp, and she let her mind drift back to the father of her three little eggs, who would be hatching any day now... contestThis is a drabble contest, focusing on the unknown father of this kiokote clutch. It starts NOW, Apr 16 and ends Sunday, Apr 17 at 11:59 pm. Winners get a pick of any of the clutch (as well as determining the gender of the baby), or the mother. rules The drabble can be in any form of poetry or prose, but must be 100 words. Not 99, not 101, exactly 100. Wordcount will be used, and any entries not meeting this requirement will be rejected outright.
The drabble should focus on the father. Feel free to name him, or not, whatever you wish. How he met the mother, why he didn't come with her to the swamp, where he is now... Whatever, it's all good.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 6:34 am
The father of those eggs so sadly forgotten... he seemed like a dream to her now, come down on a cloud from the blue sky he shared hues with. Did her memory honey his voice, his laughter light as feathers? Did it alter the way his smile looked, or the way the light played across his side?
Did it make those things up, the way he'd made up his love?
... Did that change the little flutter she'd felt when he was near? Her love, at least, had been true. It being the love she felt, she believed it mattered more.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 8:18 am
Earth, sky, water, the land she misses the gentleman she loved. Loved enough to carry the eggs without him. Loved enough to carry on with his loss. Where is he now? Does he survive? Scared to leave him but pushed by dreams he did not seem to share. His voice, his touch never to be forgotten. He ran like the wind, jumped and played. He was full of life and joy. He seemed sad to see her leave but showed no inclination of following as his dreams led elsewhere. Soft eyes asking her to stay, knowing her need to go.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 8:52 am
Freedom. A life wild and unfettered, away from others. He had valued that more than he had valued her. He had captivated her with sky eyes and a laughter that carried across the plains, across her heart, until she had been ready to leave her tribe to follow him. Together they would form their own tribe beneath the blue of the open skies. She had returned, time and again, to the place they'd met.
He was not there. He answered his Ache alone, and when her own Ache wrapped around her, she sometimes wondered if she followed in his foosteps.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 8:59 am
Was it love? It must have been. The feeling of fluttering, the loving words that had been exchanged.... Such a sweet feeling, love.
Fallen to ashes.
Flame does not spare the worthy. It is a cold killer, destroying everything in it's path and stealing the corpse, leaving nothing more than ashes to mourn over.
With his loss she had made the trek alone, keeping her feelings to herself, not shedding a tear, for he would want her to continue on, not wasting valuble time on memories. After all, it had been love, and knowing she had been loved was enough.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 9:14 am
He was sorely lost when she met him on a hunt. He was mightily afflicted with the Ache, but his sense of direction was terrible; he could not find the place he was compelled to go.
She accepted these facts readily, and appealed to him, “Will we ever meet again?”
He dipped his head in thought, scratched his nose in embarrassment, and said to her, “If you follow the Ache, we might meet again one day.”
Perhaps her wish to see him again caused the Ache to grow stronger, for the day he disappeared, she left her tribe as well.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 9:37 am
He never suffered from the Ache. This stallion and noble hunter never felt as his does felt. Something overcame them-- an urge they could not fight. He stayed (alone) as his council left.
No longer a stallion, he became only a buck. His prey, his kill, gave him joy. It was the only thing. A solitary hunter was not that; the Kiokote was a survivor. The once welcome and open plains were now desolate and void of the life they once held.
Everything changed so quickly, and so had he. Bolting across the landscape, he endeavored to befriend a cheetah.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 1:53 pm
A mistake? No, a request.
The mare yearned for offspring more than she did air, food, and other necessities. In preparation for the journey – the journey he would not accompany her on – she asked that he grant her wish for tiny hooves.
He looked at her then, a questioning hesitance in his pale eyes. She spoke not of a relationship or any ties to the eggs, but simply for his support and contribution.
He obliged.
And as he watched her canter over the hills, growing smaller and smaller over the darkening horizon, he silently mourned the loss of a family.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 5:52 pm
She was running. The perfect prey. He wouldn't hunt her in the usual sense; this kind of hunt was different. The doe wouldn't know either way, not that it mattered. He never knew how they acted the day after, but he knew about the night before.
She was strong. Affected by the mysterious Ache that never touched him. He went from one doe to the next without a backward glance. She was just another pretty coat, another conquest. He'd notch his shoulder scale again, and she would ... do whatever it is does do. Maybe he had family somewhere. Maybe not.
I'm counting 100, but javascript counters get 112 and word grabs 101. There are a few filler words in there, so if it's too much you can uncount them Q.Q
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 6:04 pm
He had promised to meet her there, but sometimes things didn't end up the way kiokote wanted.
It had been one of those heavy gray clouds, moving like a fat spider on a thousand legs of lightning, that had kept him from her.
And from their eggs.
It was the eggs he thought of, in the single moment he had as the world went white from a bolt of lightning and a thunderclap so loud everything was obliterated.
The eggs.
Not that he knew how many there were, or how healthy they'd be; he didn't care.
He wished them life.
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 9:01 pm
They felt it. The Ache.
It had compelled them to travel far, walking by day and moonlit night, for the dreams had them in constant restlessness. He had known that she was with eggs. Against all odds, she had pressed on bravely with the rest of them. He had taken care of her, the first of his does to bear young, to help ease her through the perils of unfamiliar lands.
Now, it was all for naught. Something that he had eaten, perhaps a plant they had foraged, had been poisonous.
And now she, and the eggs, would be alone.
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 12:33 pm
They had first met under the same sky, when dry grass rustled with anticipation of cold winds and ice, where rolling hills gently gave way to endless plains. They met once or twice a moon: as filly and colt, they cavorted under the hot midsummer sun; as doe and buck, they danced cautiously around new emotions. But she’d never been willing to leave her tribe, nor he his, and they had been content. Yet when the Ache struck, when she sought his comfort, they told her he’d been hit first by the hungry wanderlust, and had not deigned to wait.
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 2:03 pm
She loved her little clutch as much as she had loved their father.
He’d been such a handsome kiokote stallion, and she had coveted her position as lead female. Their children would be blessed by the Motherfather. But her stallion was gone now; he’d been pushed from a rather steep ridge on the way to the Swamp. They’d found him, broken, at the bottom. They had loved him so.
But she most of all. And he really shouldn’t have tried to elevate that other female. The audacity of that male to think she’d accept another female in her position. Really.
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