Post by Samantha on Jan 4, 2014 1:21:27 GMT
[The Vale of Winter, some time prior to Blood of Ice].
A chill breeze blew and wisps of cloud drifted up above, while a lithe Creation in turns tumbled and bounded down the mountain, amid whirling flakes of snow and kicked-up slush.
He was laughing, a sound loud and clear on that quiet morning. The force of his momentum carried him onward, causing him to tumble when he lost his footing, to leap and bound and twirl when he again found it. Cold flurries of snow found their way into his nostrils, melted on his tongue, filled his ears. He flicked them and blew out through his nose to dislodge the particles, finding himself unable to suppress a sneeze as he did so. At this, he again lost his balance; and with a grunt of surprise fell head first down the slope and slid across a flat ledge, spinning gently to a halt facing the slope he had just left.
He picked himself up, breathing heavily, and turned to survey the world below.
He was maybe two thirds of the way down the mountain, at a height which still afforded him a clear view of the surrounding area. Not that there was really much to see. A vast expanse of snow shone in the welcome sun, broken in places by tall mountains which stretched high into the sky above. On and amongst some of them he picked up movement- animals and Creations going about their business, paying no heed to the furry Ice Creation standing there on the ledge.
Perhaps one of them was lost though? Perhaps in need of his help? Those violet eyes flickered to and fro, their owner squinting and focussing and determined not to miss any poor lost soul. To his considerable relief, the dragon could see no-one who might fit that description. Today was going to be his day, after all! As he had intended. Such joy!
"Boldly I take you on, good sir," he said, flicking his ears at the slope below. "Confident in spirit, I challenge thee."
He barely knew what he was on about, but at least it sounded good. Trembling with exhilaration, Haranling threw himself over the edge and landed slightly clumsily on the mountainside below. The snow parted beneath his feet, and he tumbled and rolled and sprang back up, laughing again as the shifting snow guided him ever onward. Before he fell over for the third time he managed to lift his head and cry, as if a conquering monarch:
"I am the Tiger of the Vale, and I will not be beaten by a mere snow flurry!"
A chill breeze blew and wisps of cloud drifted up above, while a lithe Creation in turns tumbled and bounded down the mountain, amid whirling flakes of snow and kicked-up slush.
He was laughing, a sound loud and clear on that quiet morning. The force of his momentum carried him onward, causing him to tumble when he lost his footing, to leap and bound and twirl when he again found it. Cold flurries of snow found their way into his nostrils, melted on his tongue, filled his ears. He flicked them and blew out through his nose to dislodge the particles, finding himself unable to suppress a sneeze as he did so. At this, he again lost his balance; and with a grunt of surprise fell head first down the slope and slid across a flat ledge, spinning gently to a halt facing the slope he had just left.
He picked himself up, breathing heavily, and turned to survey the world below.
He was maybe two thirds of the way down the mountain, at a height which still afforded him a clear view of the surrounding area. Not that there was really much to see. A vast expanse of snow shone in the welcome sun, broken in places by tall mountains which stretched high into the sky above. On and amongst some of them he picked up movement- animals and Creations going about their business, paying no heed to the furry Ice Creation standing there on the ledge.
Perhaps one of them was lost though? Perhaps in need of his help? Those violet eyes flickered to and fro, their owner squinting and focussing and determined not to miss any poor lost soul. To his considerable relief, the dragon could see no-one who might fit that description. Today was going to be his day, after all! As he had intended. Such joy!
"Boldly I take you on, good sir," he said, flicking his ears at the slope below. "Confident in spirit, I challenge thee."
He barely knew what he was on about, but at least it sounded good. Trembling with exhilaration, Haranling threw himself over the edge and landed slightly clumsily on the mountainside below. The snow parted beneath his feet, and he tumbled and rolled and sprang back up, laughing again as the shifting snow guided him ever onward. Before he fell over for the third time he managed to lift his head and cry, as if a conquering monarch:
"I am the Tiger of the Vale, and I will not be beaten by a mere snow flurry!"