Down the Rabbit Hole

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Time: Dusk | Notes: Whip isn't in the best of moods.

She had come a long way since leaving the Nanny. On careful paws and with a wary glance now and then, Whip eased her way up the last few paces of a tall hall. Standing atop its flattened peak, she took a moment to catch her breath, only to have it taken away again by the sight that greeted her. Ahead and below, spanning across miles, a twisting, dried riverbed. Even the ever clever Whip had to stand, gawking in awe at the sight of the shining stones at its lower reaches. Sparkling under the glow of the evening's setting sun, cut off only by the striking contrast of shadows, cast by its own ancient banks, several thousand glimmering points became the centerpiece of an artistic landscape. Even one so uncaring as herself could admire the beauty in it- and jealously yearn to claim it at her own, to guard it from those who would seek to harm or change it. Oh, but alas, a leader she would never be. Too frail, too small. Too easily bored of the same routines, day in and day out. With a sobered sigh, she picked herself up and sauntered down the hillside, looking practically defeated.

Her pace was steady and purposeful as she rounded the banks of the ancient river, following the rough edge along until a sudden drop forced her to stop once again. She peered over the edge with hesitation, curled ears pressing against the curve of her jaw as she pondered her next step. Down into the river's valley, or swing back to find another way around? She didn't have long to decide. With a slight shift in her weight, too far to one side, the ground gave an awful rumble before letting go beneath her front paws.

With a shrill yelp and flailing legs, the blue-gray yearling was sent tumbling down the river's steep wall. She came to a stop only when her ruffled, dirty fur met with cold, hard marble and grit. She stayed stone still for a moment, breathing slowly to calm her mad heart. Only after she could count to ten without shaking did she try to stand. Assuring herself that the pain she felt was nothing severe, only bruises, the orphan found her footing. She took another moment to look around, and for a way back up. No walls in any direction seemed stable enough to support her clunky, too-big paws and clunky footwork. With a groan, she turned back towards her original heading, easing herself along at a slower pace, disheartened by coolness of the riverbed's shaded path.