wicked men tell wicked lies [closed]

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

As they neared the place, Addy felt understandably compelled to question his actions. Why had he ventured so far away from the comforts of home? Why was he bringing this pain in the neck back home with him? Why did he act without regard as of late? He figured it was simply a rash of stupidity, washing over him in a freak incident wrought of illness. Aderalle guessed that if it had not hurt him yet, it would in the near future. Everything held that same principle within the aura of its own.

"Everything," he told Probli with a huff, answering the question in a manner that made it obvious he was not looking forward to the rest of his day... year... life. In a short period of time he had gone from the possession of nothing to everything. Something in him preferred the nothing. The nothing came with a lack of responsibility, worry, doubt, mistrust, anger. The everything... it bogged him down with all of those things. He felt for the first time in his life that he had too much to do instead of too little. It was awful.

The trees broke suddenly, pulling them into what he proclaimed to be his territory. Suddenly scraggly boughs of twisted foliage fell away, revealing instantly the thick, red trunks of the redwood forest. Addy breathed out in a sigh of relief, glad to be home where he belonged, where food was well in reach, where he knew his way. A snort came of him, in gladness. He thought for a moment of the shelter in which he would spend his night, getting the sleep his body so desperately craved. Words broke the silence, however, and he shook the thoughts from himself.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Just getting over an illness.” In a moment, he stopped, a few dozen yards into his home and feeling comfortable with the distance between himself and any rival. Head lowered, but he did not graze. He felt too worn.

end.

[Probli]

The answer Probli was given only confused the already mystified colt. His new companion… he must certainly be busy at all times! Probli wondered if there were horses in his herd other then the mare he spoke of; how else could he be so busy? From the appearance of the ever nearing Redwoods, there was much food to be had, and he assumed where the grass was green, water must be plentiful. What else could there possibly be for him to do? Presently, however, they had finally entered the legendary Redwoods.

The rusty colt was relieved that they had finally reached the location his companion had spoke of. For a short while, he had began to doubt the existence of the great Redwoods. The sudden change from the forest he had begun to be familiar with, with its scraggly trees and tough grass, to this magnificent place, left him staring about. He thought to himself, how could anything grow like this? How old must these trees be to have possibly achieved this size?

He slowed, quickly, as his companion did. “Well… I ah, hope you feel better soon, then.” The words did not mean much, but Probli hoped they would be taken well. As his cohort seemed to rest, he wandered about, examining each clump of grass, every small insect that crossed his path. He occasionally grazed, noted how much more palatable the greenery was here as opposed to the site of the ruins. This place… it was wonderful. The food was plentiful and pleasant tasting; the environment left him feeling safe. He walked slowly back towards Aderalle. “How long… would you mind me staying here?” Probli believed that he would be quite comfortable living the rest of his days here.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Head still lowered, a snort escaped him. Black muzzle met the ground, softly urging on circles of grass to grow in many small, patchy rounds before him. When five or six had appeared, each somewhere between six and twelve inches in diameter, eyes narrowed in on the choicest of them all, teeth set into the motion of ripping it up from its roots. He felt not like eating in his tiredness, but gave into the need for fear of desire coming to him in the middle of the frigid night. It would be stupid to abandon warmth for food.

The other spoke and he declined to answer, still pulling up blades in a voracious manner. Something about this other, as annoying as he was, made him passable. Aderalle guessed it was the perceived stupidity of him - one so daft could hardly overthrow another, could he? Would Probli ever ponder such an occurrence? Could he have such a forceful bone in his body? Addy felt unsure. He hoped this other lived up to the expectations that were laid upon him.

Eventually the patches he had grown fell decimated. Addy tired of eating, wanting only for sleep to come. His head lifted from the ground, a few steps pondered lazily, his stride lacking force or zeal. He did not watch the other through all of this, feeling uninterested by his whimsy and curiosity, wandering about like an idiot inspecting things that, to Aderalle, were everyday occurrences. Words came. In his tired stupor, the green brute only turned to look at the other, a sigh leaving him. “I… don’t care.” A yawn. He smacked his lips, legs again carrying him forward.

When a choice spot was chosen, legs were allowed to crumple beneath him. Sprawling out on his side in the red dirt beneath him, he lay for a few moments with his eyes open, but only halfway. Another yawn, neck contorted in a stretch. The darkness was enveloping. Aderalle was done with today. Eyes closed.

end.

[Probli]

Probli, being too busy wandering about studying trivial things, did not noticed Aderalle’s ability to bring life forth from nothing; lucky for him, as this would have invoked a tirade of questions. Those whom he was familiar with in his herd had no such abilities, save for one or two instances he was only told about and never quite believed.

The colt felt an onset of weakness. When had he last slept? He had not thought of sleep in a good while; he was much too interested in exploring his surroundings to give in to it. Noting his companion seemed to be tired, as well, he decided it was perhaps finally time to give in to his urge to rest. Not, however, until he had eaten.

Searching for tufts of grass, lowering his head, he began to graze much more heavily as opposed to the random nipping at greenery he had done prior. As he did so, his second question addressed to his cohort was answered. Or at least, responded to. If Aderalle did not care… did that mean he could stay as long as he wished? Probli hoped so, as he intended to stay as long as possible.

He watched as his new friend collapsed into a heap of green. Perhaps… he could sleep now. It was quite dark, after all. He walked about a short while, searching for the right tree to sleep next to for the night, settled on one not too far from the now fast asleep Addy. He gently set himself down, mumbled. “Good night.” It was useless, he knew, but he felt it should be said. He slowly lowered his eyelids, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep, in his new home of the Redwoods.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

The night was littered with moments spent in a half-woken daze, but he slept soundly for the most part. The little things - birds and squirrels and the like - did not wake the beast as readily as they had in the beginning. This, he was grateful for, as he could use any amount of sleep that would be ranted unto him. To repair the damage wrought would take a lot of energy, as did surveying the land about him and keeping up with the dailies of all the others living with him.

Sooner than he would have liked, morning came, shooting through the open spaces in the trees, weaving through the leaves and pummeling his slumped body in a barrage of warm, sticky sunshine. The frost-capped grass about him began to thaw, as did the delicate flesh of his muzzle that fell victim to the cold of winter. An eye opened. Another. He had been awake for quite some time, but had not let it be known. Eventually his great body moved to right itself, joints creaking and popping in the process. A hoof braced itself, another. The hulking body moved upwards, stabilized. A sigh.

His companion lay a bit away from him. Aderalle avoided waking him for fear of a brutal hail of stupid questions. The olivine brute was not the best at mornings. Until his stomach was full and he found himself alertly awake, there was not much of a point in talking to him. You would get little in the ways of politeness… not that he usually offered much.

One chalky black hoof lifted in rest. He looked about himself casually. Sometimes the endless labyrinth of trees flustered him, annoyed him. It could be difficult to navigate, even in its supposed orderliness. Birds began to wake in the trees overhead. Something as a rabbit scurried by in the distance. Addy coughed a time or two then pulled his body into motion, forming grass in an area where red dirt was the overwhelming norm and then grazing on it with much zeal. He thought casually of going back to bed.

end.

[Probli]

One of the few skills that Probli found he had possession of was the ability to sleep anywhere, and to sleep well. Waking, however, was a problem. The heavy sleeper lay asleep only until the calls of birds woke him. He blinked rapidly, briefly panicked as he woke in what was, in his drowsy state, an unfamiliar place. He quickly calmed and remembered the events of yesterday: finding himself in the ruins of the forest, meeting the mossy beast called Aderalle, and eventually going to his land. He slowly rose, nearly stumbled as he miscalculated his footing. He looked about, scanning the area. The forest was even more beautiful in daylight, especially with more wildlife about. He noted his companion was awake and eating.

Slowly, he ambled towards him, snorted. “Good morning,” he said, perhaps a bit too loudly. A squirrel that had been on the forest floor dashed away, scurried up a tree. Probli yawned, showed his yellowing teeth off to the world. He lowered his head here and there, eating somewhat close to his cohort. Quickly, he established that perhaps this made the olive colt nervous, moved away fairly further to dine on the bits of grass and, unintentionally, a reasonable amount of insects.

Some clever rolling of his tongue, attempts to scrape the taste out of his mouth. He grumbled, continued eating a few feet away. Thoughts of what to do that day rose in his mind. With a new home possibly found, he no longer needed to travel about. As far as he could tell, he’d spend his time merely eating and sleeping; he was not sure he enjoyed the idea. He still doubted somewhat that Aderalle would allow him to stay indefinitely. Although he was told that Addy did not care, he was unsure if this was said only due to him being so tired the previous night. “So… am I welcome to, ah. Stay as long as I wish?” A brief moment of fear for being kicked out of the area washed over him…

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

His companion rose up, drowsy and inarticulate, and Addy masked a chuckle that was tempted to well up. He though that Probli had been granted the wits of a scared hare and not that of a horse. Not that they were much different in reality. Both ran from insignificances and harbored in them an intense love of food. Still, Aderalle found the antics of his friend (dare I say that?) amusing.

“Good morning,” the greeting came muffled in between and through mouthfuls of bitter, winter-rough grass. He hardly looked up for an instant, feeling the food more important than Probli. As of yet, Probli was no aid to life. Food was. He therefore paid little attention when the other dropped his mug to graze in his near vicinity. It was strange to him, but not unwanted. Awkward but not socially strange. Nonetheless, the other eventually moved off.

The grazing went on for a good while, circles of new blades popping up whenever he decided the toughened blades present were not up to par. After a bit, the area in which he fed came to look speckled: bright green circles of tender baby grass overlapping, scattered over a bed of green-brown old growth. Even though he held little control over the location of the spots, he did not feel disenchanted. The randomness of them was somehow pleasing.

More words came from the other as Addy mused over his creation. Continuing to graze, his ears flickered back and forth a bit, stalling lightly for his own amusement. His great body moved forward a few steps, a green ball of sinew atop ash-blackened stilts. A snort eventually came from him, head lifted. Mane fell in chunks over his neck, forelock covered his eyes. He look at the other through the swath of hair, sucked his lips a bit, smacked them together. “If you really want to.” He sounded tired. “I mean… you should be trying to get your own place. But if you wanna… I ain’t stopping’ ya’.” Head lowered again lazily.

end.

[Probli]

Probli strolled back to his companion, his hooves now packed with clumps of dirt and plant matter. Absently, he glanced at the newly sprouted grass. Probli often held pride for himself with the ability to detect inconsistencies and anomalies, as he was always studying the world around him. This was, sadly, flat out untrue. While he did spend much of his time staring at things scattered about the world around him, he did not quite absorb any of the information he tried to ascertain from them. Thus, the grass grown by unearthly means did not gather his attention, daft little horse.

Probli noted that, somehow, Addy had the capabilities of always sounding either annoyed or tired. He decided that, for the most part, he merely sounded… bored. The rusty colt liked that description of the others voice at the moment. Feeling a bit more welcome, Probli stepped a few feet closer to the other a bit too quick, nearly colliding with the grazing stallion. He thought once more about how, exactly, a horse got around “owning” land. He felt a small nagging in the back of his skull; he felt somewhat ashamed, although he hardly identified the feeling, for not having land of his own, and not understanding the concept of claiming it.

A torrent of words were flung from the anxious colts mouth,” I… ah. I don’t quite understand… how… to get land. I mean, do I, ah. Just, step on a hill, and shout that this land belongs to me? Besides, I ah, am unsure how well I’d go about keeping an area to call my own. But, um. I really appreciate you welcoming me here, Aderalle.” If Probli had the ability to blush, he most certainly would. Admitting openly his ignorance embarrassed him, although he tried his best to hide it.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Aderalle only owned land by the god’s good graces. It was not by his wit nor his cunning that he had obtained this vast stretch of forested land, but by his luck to have been the first to wander upon it and feel the whim to take it well up within him. If any others were to challenge him for it, he might as well lose it. He liked to think that would never happen, but we all know how vain hopes such as those tend to be. Aderalle wished to protect his laziness, his comfort, his perceived grandeur. All of which sounds vain and crude, but are those things not what we all strive to protect?

The other’s advances were answered by a quick turn of the head followed by an unnerved, sideways movement. A snort left Aderalle’s blackened muzzle and white-rimmed eyes gave Probli an accusing glare. The action was threatening to him, but the words that soon spilled from the opposer’s mouth calmed him, even if only a little.

Was this colt stupid? Addy stared at him for a moment. “Well, first off,” he started, “if no one else owns it, go for it.” He moseyed a bit, removing himself a few steps’ distance from the other. “And second, if you aren’t sure, you probably shouldn’t try.” His head lowered to graze momentarily, thinking on Probli’s final words. Another snort came from him and he pondered the idea of the other in his space, all the while massacring a large mouthful of grass between his yellowed teeth.

“Yeah.” The word came after much time and many slaughtered blades of grass. “Just don’t mess anything up.” Not that there was anything to muss, it just felt like the fulfilling bossy thing to say at the moment. As the leader, he had the right to be a snot.

His head eventually lifted, still grinding down a mouthful. A cough. Grey-brown hooves moved forward once again, feeling bored and rather antsy. There was nothing for him to do for the moment.

end.

[Probli]

The embarrassment Probli felt massed, welled up in him. He was aware that what he did not understand was common knowledge held by others; the stare he received so generously from Aderalle was evidence enough of this. The answer given to him, however, did little to help him understand the process. He refrained from questioning any further, though.

The moments pause between the words of the other were sufficient time for Probli to begin nervously digging, keeping his eyes away from the mossy beast beside him; the creature seemed much larger to him now, and somewhat more threatening. No… threatening was not the correct word. Probli thought as he absently created small holes in the earth. Aderalle appeared to have more… authority. That was the word Probli chose. He felt, the little nervous wreck, as though he was being scolded; especially so with the others final comment.

Probli took a step back, away from his companion. He understood, fully, that Aderalle was the leader of his herd; he accepted, now, that if he remained a member of this herd then Aderalle would be his leader. The little colt finally understood this connection, and for a brief moment, it frightened him. He did not understand his fear, although he assumed it stemmed from the fact that he would finally be required to answer to someone else. The ability of the little rusty colt to overreact and find issues in places where none existed was extraordinary, indeed.

He glanced about, and for a short moment questioned what he could possibly “mess up”. As far as he understood, there was not a large population in this herd, and the land did not seem to be disputed at all. “If there, ah, aren’t that many members of your herd… would you, perhaps, uh, like for me to try to find others, when I’ve… you know, got nothing to do?” Probli asked, not only due to a genuine wish to help out his new herd, but he secretly wished to have others to talk to. He was not sure how comfortable he would be spending long periods of time with Aderalles… grumpiness.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

For a moment it did not hit him what Probli’s words truly consisted of, having it been true that he had not really been listening at all. He cocked his head a bit to the side, tossing it in an agreeable but unexcited manner. Slowly though, after he had returned to grazing, the question pulled itself together within his head. Others? Did they need others? He guessed so. But why did this stupid colt think he needed help? He was slightly insulted by the suggestion. Even so, he had already offered an answer and was unwilling to change it: the only way to go about that would be embarrassing.

Between mouthfuls he let a huff of air escape him, “Long as you aren’t going to bring back any creeps.” He smacked his lips a bit, mouth dry. Another mouthful. He chewed calmly, slowly. Body moved a few steps away, catching up with the random, perfect circles of grass that popped up in the space before him. Eventually, he found himself bored of this grazing intermingled with idle chit chat about nothing in particular. Head lifted halfway, black mane lay tousled over the crest of his neck in loops and chunks. He swallowed one last mouthful, taking a few steps forward without much zeal.

“You can handle that, right?” he muttered after a long while, teasing but lost in thoughts of other things. He was still only half sure that Probli would not try to pull the rug from beneath him.

end.

[Probli]

For a moment, Probli stared at his companion, awaiting a definite response. He felt that he was being ignored, but held his tongue, an action he was not entirely familiar with. The sensation he felt grew stronger as he watched Aderalle begin eating once again; perhaps he did not even hear all that he had said? The little rusty colt positioned himself to the left side of his cohort, once again a bit too close to him. He opened his mouth, prepared to question once again if Addy would enjoy Probli attempting this service. However, he noted what sounded like a sigh issue forth from Aderalle. Quickly, the burnt-orange stallion decided to alter his question into one of concern, wishing to know what was wrong with his new friend. Though, words now came from the other. Probli decide to keep his mouth shut; he was, apparently, getting too excitable. He acknowledged to himself that he was prone to speak right before others were.

Probli was, momentarily, insulted by Aderalle. Why would he bring back strange horses? Did the olive brute not truly trust his capabilities? Probli stared as the mossy colt moved a small number of steps from him. Presently, however, Probli’s eyes shifted downward, and finally noted that, to his surprise, small clumps of grass were popping up amidst clumps of dirt and long dead needles. Probli nearly jumped; in fact, his body jolted with fright. He lowered his head, stared at the strange foliage that now appeared done growing. More words were given by Addy; Probli absently nodded, muttered assurance that he was capable. His eyes moved back towards his companion, where more of the strangely fast-growing blades of grass surrounded. He took a step back; he was unsure if this frightened him, or intrigued him. He decided that he felt both sensations. With his voice quite shaky, Probli asked, “How… uh… what are you doing? How… are you doing that?” Probli’s eyes shifted back to the grass, lowered his head, and prodded a newly grown clump of grass with his nose.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

The closeness of the other was noted, and he took a few steps forward to rid himself of the intrusion. Why Probli was always in his face, he did not know. It was, in a way, rather threatening. He guessed that the other did not understand the aggressive undertones of his actions, or that they caused him considerable uneasiness. It was strange enough for a stallion to request the company of another, but to enter his space was unbearably awkward. His course altered itself, moving diagonally away.

Obviously the other could not take a slight bit of cordial teasing, but Aderalle chose to ignore this as well. It was easier to ignore, to put off, to disown than to deal with the often uncomfortable truth. A soft snort left his nostrils, head lowered lightly to the grass between his hooves. Mid-movement, he felt in the ground beneath him the commotion Probli’s fear had resurrected. What the…? His green head turned about, gazed back at the other. Probli’s head lowered, his body retreated only slightly. Addy stared on with annoyance, confusion, pity. What was this colt’s problem? Frightened of... the ground? It was something he could not comprehend.

Shakily, words left the other. Aderalle tilted his head a bit, stared for a moment in disbelief. He stopped a soft, laughing snort from escaping him. “Doing… what?” He feigned innocence, stupidity, confusion. He watched the other assault the fresh, silken tendrils that had so newly sprouted, then turned and took a few more steps away. Three more rounds of neon blades sprung up about his right fore hoof, a couple more a foot or two before him. Yellow teeth reached to decapitate the prettiest of the sprigs.

“Are you daft?” he finally asked, mouth full to overflowing. One hoof lifted, pulled forward. His weight shifted to the side. He gulped, taking down the pulverized chunks in the least civilized of manners. The black, dred-like strands of his tail struck his hind-quarters lazily. He did not look at the other, just stared ahead into the maze-like barrage of trees. Ears flickered lightly.

His tongue ran over his teeth, lazily ridding them of debris, and words came in time. “No, seriously,” he finally turned to look at Probli, “What rock do you live under?”

end.

[Probli]

The ability for Probli to intrude upon others space was great; while it was often unintentional, it was most commonly simply for want of being close to someone he felt a connection to. How Probli felt connected to the olive brute beside him was a good question. It was quite possible that this was merely due to the fact that he was the only other horse the nervous little colt had been lucky enough to see in a long while.

Probli stared at the other as he continued to summon forth green strands of grass from the earth. He was well aware the other knew what he was doing, and what the rusty stallion's confusion had risen from. He felt a brief flare of impatience; he wanted to understand what was happening, and he wished to know now. Aderalle's mouth was nearly dripping with a mash of saliva and varieties of green vegetable matter. Red ears pinned back; Probli was insulted by the others question. Was this ability to magically call forth from the earth plants common knowledge to others?

Again, Probli stared at the other as he looked back. "I... haven't see the likes of this before. None in my herd ever did anything like this... Really. How are you doing that?" His eyes shifted back to the small clumps of green, now greatly depleted by the others jaws. He wondered, for a moment, if they tasted as grass should...

"And... can others do this? Do we all have... the, uh. Ability, I guess, to do that?" Another prod at a clump of grass with his nose. He decided that he wanted, desperately, to be able to do the same thing. As he acknowledged that it was, indeed, Aderalle who was causing the grass to grow, he found himself wondering how. He had a limited knowledge about seeds and germination, and thus pondered where the seeds for this magical grass was kept. Was Addy simply awakening seeds already in the earth? Or was this something purely otherworldly?

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

The only reason Aderalle felt adverse to his companion’s closeness was gender. There was no reason for two stallions to ever be so close to one another. To begin with, stallions were not even truly supposed to allow another within their space. If Aderalle was not no lackadaisical, Probli would still be out on his own, wandering somewhere without anyone at all to annoy. It was only because the olivine brute thought the other to be inadequate in the aggression department that he was allowed to stay. When there were more mares about the Redwoods, things might have to change. Aderalle would not risk losing one of them to the babbling fool, knowing that no matter how dumb he was the scenario was entirely possible. He would be endlessly ashamed to lose a female to one he considered beneath him.

Addy continued to ignore the other’s probing words and stares, not feeling the need to explain something that he felt was obvious and common knowledge. Eventually though, the other’s words began to deprive him of the intense concentration that was needed to graze wistfully upon the grass about his hooves. A grunt left him. He ripped another clod of grass from the soil, chewed it and swallowed noisily.

“I do it how I do it,” he told the other gruffly, lifting his head to a state of half-erect. Even he did not truly understand the nature of the powers - why he had them, how and a million other aspects - but he thought that was normal and nothing to worry about. Aderalle was not a curious being and tended to take what he saw for face value. He did not inquire into things which did not require it. “And if no one in your herd can do this, you aren’t exactly the most brilliant group,” he muttered, head lowering to the pasture again. Another mouthful was followed by another disgustingly spitty-sounding swallow.

“Yes,” he told the other flatly, annoyed at the endless line of questions. Another mouthful. He took a step forward, a few more circles sprouting up. “It’s just normal, I guess,” he told the other through a half-chewed mouthful. His head never lifted from the ground, his tail swatted at insects about his hind end. Where did the colt live? Obviously under a rock.

end.

[Probli]

The constant rudeness of the other was beginning to nag at Probli; he felt the need to simply walk away from this conversation before he boil over with anger. He was well aware that when he was visibly angry, he only made a fool of himself. Anger only served to make him stutter and lose words from the tip of his tongue much more often then normal, which was most certainly saying something.

He was, for the most part, alright with having his own intelligence questioned. Of course, he did not enjoy it, but he was quite capable of dealing with others who were quick to do so. When his family and herd was insulted, however, he could become quite upset, quite easily. Thus, it took him a fair amount of willpower to ignore Addy’s quip about his old herd.

Once the other had finished speaking, Probli simply nodded, lowered his head, and began to graze, slowly moving away from the mossy colt. He wondered why Aderalle seemed to always be so… grumpy. He was unable to understand just how annoying he was capable of being to others.

As they grazed, the rusty stallion allowed himself to ponder more about his life. He was fairly uncomfortable with the thought of living out his days grazing and sleeping; he wished to find new places, new friends. He allowed a fair amount of time pass before he spoke again, as he was well aware he was annoying his cohort. He finished chewing, swallowed the last bit of grass he had gathered. “Hm. Have you, ah, explored all of this region yet? I have it in me to, uh, explore a bit.”

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Aderalle may have been more hospitable if he had found a reason to be. In complete truth, there was nothing that Probli could do for him. He could not carry babies, but could make unwanted ones. He could not find mares, really, as they would then belong to him, and there was no sense in obtaining females when you had no herd land. He could not seek out resources, as he did not know the place well enough yet. Hell, he could hardly carry on an intelligent conversation! When Probli had turned from being a burden to an aid, then Addy would consider treating him as something worthwhile.

It was also true that the olivine brute only stated what he saw. If one did no wish him to question the intelligence of their family, they would be smart to refrain from admitting that their family lacked the basic knowledge which the rest of the world took for granted. Probli moved away from him slowly, and Aderalle took this as a subordinating gesture. He thought the scatter-brained male to be unfamiliar with an organized herd structure, as he did not seem to understand the hierarchy involved. A smart colt would steer clear of a higher-ranked male and would not bother him with such questions. Really, the smartest thing for Probli to be doing, if he wished to gain rank, would be to try an impress upon the other herd members that he was in some way superior to their current leader. Obviously, Addy would not tell him that. He just continued to graze.

“I’ve seen a lot,” he answered between mouthfuls, “but it’s hard to say all when everything looks the same.” He had water, a path in an out in a few directions, a creek, a few clearings. There were more than enough resources to maintain a herd in the forest, it just required a lot of patience in order to find them. He thought on this, taking a few steps in the direction of the last of his non-annihilated sprouts.

“What I need to find,” he continued after a long pause, “is better shelter.” There were really no caves about that he had seen, but he figured there had to be something that could be managed.

end.

[Probli]

Probli was quite unaware of the proper running of a herd. Due to his lack of interaction with his old herdmates, any type of social function was a mystery to him. As far as he could tell, a herd was simply a group of horses. The concept of a lead stallion was known to him, but it was not a strange idea in his mind for there to be several stallions in a herd who could coexist. Thus, he did not find his membership of Aderalle’s herd to be strange in any form.

Somewhat along the depths of Problis understanding of social practices was a vague concept of breeding. He understood that a mare and stallion were required for such things as foals, but the act itself was a mystery to him. His instincts for such a thing were lost with him, crazy rusted colt. It was entirely understandable for Addy to be afraid of the thought of another stallion breeding with his mares, but the possibility of such a thing to occur was minimal while Probli was around.

The desire to explore what would be his new home was strong. He was not entirely sure if he wished to do so with Addy in tow, or most likely leading, but if it meant he would have something to do he was all for it. He was quite aware by now how each point in this forest appeared the same; only small clusters of vegetation at the bases of trees seemed to change, or small collections of stones. Probli was prepared to go off and explore, find any clearings or water sources that he could attempt to remember and add to his quite shaky mental map of the area.

He was already deep in thought when the other spoke again, causing Probli to jolt with fright. He calmed quickly, and wondered what type of shelter could possibly be in this forest, which for the most part seemed quite uniform throughout. He thought that, perhaps, they could find a giant log to sleep in. He nearly chuckled at the thought. “Well, ah. We could always go off and uh, try to find some form of shelter. I’m not sure what we could find in this forest, though.”

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Admission of males was not unheard of, but only if they were under a certain age and born unto the herd. At a certain age, colts were indeed meant to strike out on their own in order to find their own mares or to, as they usually did, take over the harem of an aging or weak stallion against whom they could win a fight. This was the reason why Aderalle was so opposed to Probli’s presence: Probli was capable and of the age at which he would be looking for his own breeding mares, and Aderalle did not wish to lose the few mates he had managed to gather.

Thinking on all of this, and working himself up with fear and anticipation in the process, the grey-green stallion continued his casual and seemingly endless grazing. Concentrating, he speckled the area about his fore hooves with enough hoof-sized to dinner plate sized circles of grass that they started to overlap into a lacy network of bright green tendrils against the crunchy, bland natural growth. A snort ruffled the grass about his muzzle, and his hooves took him forward a few steps, quite honestly disinterested in the blades. A few more circles popped up, and his head lifted halfway, mane falling in chunks so both sides of his neck, forelock over one eye, tail slapping at his hocks in a lazy way. One brownish, cloven hind hoof rested itself in a pointed position. Addy smacked his lips lightly.

“Salma builds things,” he responded with a bit of thought. “Or she did once… built a shelter. I forget where it was, but it was quite nice.” Aderalle was not yet versed enough in the skills of plants to be able to twist and manipulate trees in such a way. This mare, she built living buildings… ones that would grow and evolve as the trees themselves did. He was amazed, but jealous. Someday his skills would be as great, he decided.

end.

[Probli]

The constantly growing grass was still amazing to Probli; he continued to stare as Aderalle willed yet more to populate the earth below them. He wished, desperately, to understand how this was done. It did not appear, however, that he would be getting any answers from the olivine brute on the subject. As the other silently willed life into the land, Probli stared intensely at a bare patch of soil directly in front of one of his hooves. He filled his head with thoughts of vibrant green plants, mentally told the soil to let things grow on it. After a short period of no results, however, he lost interest, dug a number of times at the spot he had been concentrating upon. He glanced at Aderalle, somewhat embarrassed of how he must have appeared as he stared at dirt.

Presently, he stared deeper into the forest ahead of him, absently counting large pieces of bark among the detritus. He was startled when the other spoke, but recovered quickly. He was not aware of how this Salma person could build something, especially something that could be large enough to be called shelter. Of course, he wanted to ask, but refrained from doing so; he did not wish to make himself appear foolish once again. He assumed she built things with the same bizarre powers Addy used to grow food, although he imagined her to control the earth in a different manner. An image formed in his mind of spires of rock popping forth from the land, creating an enclosure and eventually a cave-like structure.

He was quite excited to see this imagined structure for himself. He waited a moment in silence to see if his companion would lead the way in a search for it; eventually, he took a short step forward, looked to his cohort. “Well, ah. Let’s go look for it. I’d like to have something to do around here, quite honestly.” He snorted softly, smacked his lips. He was somewhat hungry, and wished to eat the grass Addy had brought forth, but felt quite strange about it. He decided he would graze periodically as they searched. That is, if they would end up looking for this shelter Addy spoke of…