A mare and her dog

by cammera

Day 10: As birdies are made

Applejack woke up to birds.

Thing was, birds were common. Everywhere you go, you'll see birds. By this point she'd only notice normal ones if someone mentioned them to her.

She peeked out of the tent, ignoring Winona's growl.

She saw scarlet feathers, each as big as her leg. A whispered expletive escaped her mouth.

The rocs, each more than big enough to carry the tent, danced around each other, their wings extended. The male was mainly scarlet, with a crest that reminded her of a woodpecker's, and the female had orange feathers with black specks. She watched them dance for a moment, confused, until realization hit her.

Scowling, she put her mat in the saddlebags, put them on, and exited the tent to start the slow process of disassembling a tent without being noticed by giant carnivorous birds.

Screw nature, and how fascinating it could be. She was not getting acquainted with the inner details of roc reproduction.

-º-

Applejack drank from her canteen, trying to wash the taste of vomit from her mouth. Then mental images assaulted her, and she threw up into it. Winona laid near her, covering her eyes with her paws and whining quietly.

A small fire lit the cave they were in, and the shouting of rocs nearly overpowered its crackling.

"How do they-? No" she shook her head "I am not going there. Not going there" she took a few deep breaths to shake off the nausea. Once she was sure no more vomit (Or dry heaves) were coming her way, she sat down to try to distract herself from their meaning.

Almost fifteen minutes later, it dawned in her that the rocs' reproductive season had to be, in fact, a season, not something she could just wait off in a cave. Maybe she could avoid the danger of rocs hunting by walking at night?

She played with the idea for a while -Avoiding predators by eating at night had given ponies their large eyes, if her education had been right- and, after a moment, decided on it. Advancing at night sounded good.

-º-

Applejack -with pieces of cloth fastened to her hooves- and Winona crawled out of the cave, both thirsty and staying as close to the stone wall as they could. Before getting away from its entrance, she stopped and watched around.

Someone had once told her that, despite their size, rocs could be incredibly stealthy if they wanted to, so she took her time to make sure that no birds hid behind the trees or above them, in the rock wall. Winona watched her quietly, her eyes a pair of black pearls under the moonlight.

Orange hat horse had fallen still, after all. Only bad's made unnecessary noise when their horses were being sneaky. When Orange moved again, she followed obediently.

After a moment they walked, both wary of the silence-- both predator and predated knew the meaning of silent forests.

Comments

[Zaid ValRoa]

You have to be positive. At least they weren't giant bees.