Posted on January 28, 2013 at 05:07:36 AM by BOOMSLANG
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we come undone It had become a sort of mantra inside his head and, as he wandered to the very edges of his home to where the land began to smell of someone else entirely, Boomslang repeated it with each step he took. It was a short, stupid word, and he was tired of it. He was tired of being alone and having company flit in and out of the Prairie. He wanted someone around all the time. Someone fun. Someone cool. The Criollo tossed his head and stopped in the shade of the young trees at the edge of the forest that bordered his land. It wasn’t that he minded the company— it was always a wonderful surprise to see others in his home. What bothered Boomslang was that they were just company, only sticking around for a short time before going home. He wanted someone else to call the Prairie “home” with him. Boomslang snorted and nosed at a rough patch of skin on the outside of his knee before a whinny that was not so far away caught his attention. He lifted his head and looked into the dense tree line on his left, his eyes searching the shadows there. It seemed the sun struggled to penetrate the trees even with the canopy fallen and rotting beneath the snow. Or maybe it was just because the winter sun was always weak that made the Forest seem dark. Having never been into it before, Boomslang figured today was as good a day as any. Whoever had called had not sounded afraid or in pain, so he kept his gait to an easy trot as he followed a game trail between the dark, wet trunks. Much like the Prairie, where the long grasses stood tall and defied the snow that threatened to smother them, the Forest only had scattered piles of snow that had fallen from the naked boughs above or been blown in by the wind or had, somehow, fallen in exactly the right spot between the tree limbs. Winter was beginning to drag, and probably only because he’d spent most of it all by himself. It was with great joy that he came upon the horse who had voiced the whinny, a heavily pregnant dapple-gray mare who seemed at ease among the trees. “Heyla!” he boomed, his voice carrying across the empty air as he came to a stop near her. He extended his nose in greeting. “This place yours? It’s a little crowded here. I’m Boomslang, from the Prairie! What’s your name?” Ever gregarious, the storm-colored stallion hung a smile on his lips and beamed at his newest companion. |
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Replies:
- Filling my pockets with stones. - By vercingetorix January 29, 2013 at 11:00:00 AM
- we'll stay young, go dancing - By yscha February 2, 2013 at 00:06:03 AM
- WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? - By BOOMSLANG February 3, 2013 at 11:23:33 PM
- Filling my pockets with stones. - By vercingetorix February 4, 2013 at 04:09:03 AM
- we'll stay young, go dancing - By yscha February 9, 2013 at 11:36:18 PM
- WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? - By BOOMSLANG February 10, 2013 at 02:44:24 AM
- Filling my pockets with stones. - By vercingetorix February 12, 2013 at 09:49:09 AM
- x. - By russell February 18, 2013 at 04:29:34 AM
- Filling my pockets with stones. - By vercingetorix February 12, 2013 at 09:49:09 AM
- WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? - By BOOMSLANG February 10, 2013 at 02:44:24 AM
- we'll stay young, go dancing - By yscha February 9, 2013 at 11:36:18 PM
- Filling my pockets with stones. - By vercingetorix February 4, 2013 at 04:09:03 AM
- WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? - By BOOMSLANG February 3, 2013 at 11:23:33 PM
- we'll stay young, go dancing - By yscha February 2, 2013 at 00:06:03 AM
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