Quintessence
They say that the blind are those who cannot see, but it is we that see the dead-set fate of everyone. Perhaps I should say, it is what we don't sense that is most threatening to our survival, and ultimately, the absence of all one's senses is death; the failure to survive. The blind just happen to see what death looks like; the deaf just happen to hear what death sounds like; those who cannot feel just happen to feel what death feels like; those who cannot taste just happen to taste what death tastes like; those who cannot smell just happen to scent what death smells like. Death is the absolute absence of everything; I am just one out of five steps closer to it than everyone else.
The breeze was barely weaving through the trees today, our sun warming the forest floor in patches where the canopies open. He felt the exotic plants rub against his legs, a fragrant scent of freshness tickling his nostrils. They were green. Green is not a mixture of yellow and blue, green is something fresh, exuberant, healthy. Quintus lowered his muzzle so each step he took, the low-growing shrubs caressed his nose. The dark bay man drank in the scent of life, the dynamism of the plants filling the stud's own bones with liveliness.
Quintessence was feeling green.
Perhaps it was the silence that made the dark rigdling abandon the Thicket and move to a more bustling environment. He was already down one sense and didn't like the eerie silence of Luthien; it was nerve racking to hear absolutely nothing. Although, it is also uncomfortable being in such an exotic environment without any eyes to guide your footsteps, or to see what may be lurking around. The rainforest does have a pungent smell, but not strong enough to destroy Quintessence's capability to scent danger; the rainforest has many a sounds, but not enough to deafen Quintus from hidden enemies; the rainforest is crowded and the camoflauge of creatures is much more advanced than most, but Quintus does not have sight to guile him of any false presences.
Nor do I have sight to see rock or log in my path, so that I may not stumble over a simple object of nature.
By the heat of the sun and the cool air where shadows are cast, Quintus could tell it was near midday. The fluctuating temperatures are some he managed to read well, and the scent and temperature of the breezes could notify the rig if rains were on their way, or if autumn happened to arrive sooner.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.4 years | cryptorchid | thoroughbred | 17.0hh | solid dark bay | blind 