December 06, 2015, 02:34 PM
"God," he moaned to himself, "these plains go on forever."
And they certainly seemed to, though he couldn't have attested that it was true. He had almost gone waltzing straight into another forest in his time in the prairie but his senses caught up with him. There had been wolves. Lots and lots of wolves, probably some of the wolves he had heard baying at the moon or whatever it was that his canine cousin particularly enjoyed. That had been enough to send him running and he had jogged sharply north.
And now, for hours, the scenery had stayed remarkably the same. Sometimes Rickshaw found that the mountains looked closer and closer, other times they looked like they hadn't moved on him at all. But they were distinct in appearance now, the cloud base finally risen above them long enough that he could admire the tachycardic points if he so desired. He didn't, and other than the heavy snow that did more than coat them, he wouldn't have really cared about them at all. He wasn't a billy goat, he had no need to be climbing mountains when there were finer ways to get around them. If he had to, he'd snake through caverns plunged into darkness if that's what it took.
Ultimately, he had no desire to go checking out the distant mountains to his east. His gaze rung to the west and it dawned on him what had once looked like a hill was in fact, another mountain looming faintly. Almost indistinguishable again the bleak, cloudy background. But it was there, the darkness in the stone sides defining that it was not some lumpy hill on the horizon. He sighed, obnoxious and loud at this discovery. The plains were funneling him towards somewhere, but he had no idea where exactly that was. So he gamboled along as coyotes were wont to do, continuing his trek northward to who knew where.
And they certainly seemed to, though he couldn't have attested that it was true. He had almost gone waltzing straight into another forest in his time in the prairie but his senses caught up with him. There had been wolves. Lots and lots of wolves, probably some of the wolves he had heard baying at the moon or whatever it was that his canine cousin particularly enjoyed. That had been enough to send him running and he had jogged sharply north.
And now, for hours, the scenery had stayed remarkably the same. Sometimes Rickshaw found that the mountains looked closer and closer, other times they looked like they hadn't moved on him at all. But they were distinct in appearance now, the cloud base finally risen above them long enough that he could admire the tachycardic points if he so desired. He didn't, and other than the heavy snow that did more than coat them, he wouldn't have really cared about them at all. He wasn't a billy goat, he had no need to be climbing mountains when there were finer ways to get around them. If he had to, he'd snake through caverns plunged into darkness if that's what it took.
Ultimately, he had no desire to go checking out the distant mountains to his east. His gaze rung to the west and it dawned on him what had once looked like a hill was in fact, another mountain looming faintly. Almost indistinguishable again the bleak, cloudy background. But it was there, the darkness in the stone sides defining that it was not some lumpy hill on the horizon. He sighed, obnoxious and loud at this discovery. The plains were funneling him towards somewhere, but he had no idea where exactly that was. So he gamboled along as coyotes were wont to do, continuing his trek northward to who knew where.
e-dubble — changed my mind