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Post by Conquistador on Mar 4, 2012 19:26:12 GMT -5
Narrow shafts of sunlight pierced the soft darkness created by the cyprus canopy. The air was hot and thick, heavy with moisture. Flies swarmed in large black clouds. The soft buzzing of their wings was the only truly audible noise in the swamp. One could detect noises other than those of flies, but these other noises were like the remnants of a dream - any efforts to focus on them resulted in their immediate disappearance. An unpleasant odor of decay drifted up from the algae-blanketed water below. A little digging in the muck would reveal the sources: plant matter and corpses going through the lengthy and malodorous process of decomposition. Small islands of mud poked their heads out of the fetid water here and there. Their tops were covered with hardy vegetation, mostly that of an aquatic nature. Marks in the mud revealed that the plentiful inhabitants swamp took a rest on these islands whenever swimming or roosting became too much of a bore.
The cattails parted before the painted stallion like peasants before an approaching king. He gave a small sigh of relief when his hooves made contact with the moist soil of the island. There had been no patches of swampy land on the island, so he was unused to moving through such terrain. He had been making his way through the swamp in search of a large island which he had heard of from one of the few natives he had spoken to. The island was supposed to be a habitable place, unlike the murky, fly-infested hell around it. If he was able to find it, Conquistador wanted to claim it for himself. One needed lands of their own to establish a herd. While some would have gone for a forest or a meadow, he liked the idea of a swamp herd. The terrain and its fauna and bacteria offered excellent protection against those who would seek to harm his herd. The natural cattail fence was supposed to be one marker of the island. If there was colorful foliage and plentiful grass beyond the cattails, then he had indeed arrived at his destination.
A triumphant smile stretched his lips as he took in his new surroundings. The land beneath his hooves was carpeted with lush grasses, shielded from the summer drought by both the abundant shade of the cypruses and the swamp's damp nature. Flowers of red, yellow, pale pink, and white grew here and there in large patches. Either this was indeed the island of which the stranger spoke, or there were many islands like this one scattered throughout the swamp. The sky-eyed colt gave the place a quick once-over in search of other horses. He was pleased to find no signs of other equine presences. He stood at the center of the island, wondering what to do next. The concept of claiming a land was quite new to him, a horse born to the nomadic lifestyle. How was he supposed to do this? Suddenly, unbidden by any thought, he reared as high as he could without risking a fall. A shrill scream came from between his lips, the tone of it challenging.
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