Posted by Delilah on June 16, 2008, 12:54 am, in reply to "New Horse"
203.56.233.124
There was an unsettling darkness bathing the realm which she would for now claim as her home. It was late indeed, and the moon, only a worn fingernail above cast a glow as ghostly and pale as death. The still air was thick with moisture and mould and it was stale as she breathed, shallow and short at first until the unbearable concentration became second thought. She followed a thin snaking trail down through the long looming silhouettes of trees that seemed to bear heavily down, sealing the space like a plastic box so that no air could escape, nor fresh air descend. It was very quite, besides the slow eerie trickle of a stream which she had not yet seen and the gentle crunch, crunch of the decomposing forest litter beneath her delicate steps. Delilah shivered uncontrollably as the chill of the landscape settled like a cloak about her shoulders; though it was not for fear- a tremendous new excitement bubbled and boiled through her pulsing veins.
Something moved not far ahead though she felt blinded by uncertainty and struggled through the shadowy darkness below the thick forest canopy to peer with wide, cunning eyes. Her ears remained perfectly erect, listening as closely as they could above the constant throbbing in her ears, sudden nervousness seizing the calmness which she was now fighting to restore. There seemed to be nothing close and she wondered foolishly if the shuffle of hoof against rock were a figment of her straying imagination. Delilah took a moment to settle herself, pausing and resting comfortably then with one hoof leaning in mock-harmony. She breathed deeply, and the oxygen as it restored the sense and reasoning in her mind was as soothing as a lover’s caress. She felt immediately better about herself, and the apprehension that simmered about her withered away.
With a little more confidence, she began again and her steps were laden with purpose and exhilaration. The sky was not visible at all now when she glanced upwards briefly and she was growing warm, the thick humidity about her drawing beads of light sweat from her thin black-brown coat. Again, there was the scuff of a hoof in the dry crackling leaves the exact sound that she was trying so hard to avoid herself. She was not known in these woods of course, and could easily be mistaken for an intruder of sorts, a spy in the night. She stepped swiftly to the side, the movement stealthy and as quiet as she could manage and found a low prickly gathering of Boxthorn shrubs to push between. Perhaps she might wait there for the thin pearly shafts of dawn light to creep into the wood, because so far she felt as though she was a wayward wanderer lost in an unforgiving labyrinth of darkness, being watched by the invisible.
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