Red Flag | Open |

[Miss Paradox]

Lynx slide through the overgrowth her bodice sliding up against the nearest branches as she negotiated a path forward. She felt constricted contained, she couldn't turn or move sideways. Every noise forced a shiver than ran havoc across her frame. Yet she moved to slowly to casually for one who feared the constraints. She was lingering, procrastinating, enjoying the feeling of being closed in on.

Her frame the blackest of nights blended in easily with the dark scrub, the nights moon was at the end of its cycle and it threw but little light out. Leaving the world a shade of black not unlike her own shade. When the little light was able to filter down through the gaps they caught her coat bringing attention to the silver scars that littered her frame and the length of white that coloured her pillars. Then she was gone again, blended amongst the foliage.

All to soon she found the trees to be thinning, the light to be greater and even the air seemed to move around her more easily. It was in that moment that she slowed her gaze catching sight of the clearing before her. Nostrils flared as young summer flowers tainted the surroundings. She paused mid stride, hindquarters bunched as muscles rippled ready and waiting. Lingering she toed the border line were forest met clearing. With a shrill snort the only noise that had escaped her yet she waited. Waited for what who knew.

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[canstey]

cast off the crutch that kills the pain,
the red flag waving never meant the same

And, as it had been every day of the black stallion’s existence so far, the Moon gradually pushed the Sun off of the edge of the Earth and darkness created the void of lightlessness. His body shivered with night’s onset, still damp from his long journey among the waves. He was starting to believe he had been drifting from place to place for a longer period of time than previously assumed. He had merely been surviving on scraps of seaweed and whatever else floated along the torrents of depths surrounding this random hunk of land that had amazingly survived the flood. At this point the horse traveled extremely slowly. He followed his lips as they fumbled over blades of lush summer grasses that he’d been dying to taste for many months. Each section of his mouth worked in turn to pull the vegetation into his body. His tongue and teeth worked in an intricate rhythm that pushed and pulled the food around the metal bit, which squeaked and jingled with each chew.

Tronic had become an object of hunger. His ears barely flickered in search of danger and eyelids had drifted to cover nearly half his pupils. No thought, no soul, just a deep and painful hunger controlling his every move. This went on for hours.

At last a noise in the distance caused his head to bolt upright. A hoarse snorting air pushed through widened nostrils, steam rising in the dull moonlight of the clearing that he now realized he was in. His brain has been so far from here that he could not clearly distinguish the owner of the sound. Had it been a human? It had to have been! They were relentless in their survival skills. They were masters of controlling fire, building shelter and water fountains, and creating oat bins! Surely there were some people just beyond the tree line, spying on him as they often did through his stall bars. They were surely wanting to remove the clinging saddle from his belly and bridle from his head. They wanted to feed him a mixture of warm beat pulp and honey, while applying soothing ointment to his saddle sores and grooming and drying his itchy body. He could not contain his excitement as his imagination ran wild. His hooves began to dance in place.

Tronic knew humans well and so, rather than burst towards them in a fit of eager loving compassion, he stood tall and regal. He spread his legs beneath him and placed each hoof in an obviously practiced position. He pushed his neck tall and long, setting his chin fairly low and flicking his ears into a perked position in the direction of which the noise had originated. A soft, low, and whuffling sound pulsed through vibrating nostrils. His form, scraggly from lack of grooming yet still handsome, glistened in the thin moonlight. Every inch of him invited the creature out from the darkness..

the kids of tomorrow don't need today
when they live in the sins of yesterday