Two down -- how many to go? I've come down from the mountain, taking care that my steps are placed exactly where I want them, for fear of losing my balance as sliding all the way down to the bottom. I grunted with each step, my body groaning at the effort of being careful instead of a blundering fool. I make a good blundering fool. But eventually I did make it down, to a nice and calm valley where a creek ran through.
So now you find me, where I am now on the bank of the creek. Some unnamed creek that probably means sometime to someone. Not me of course.. I scratch my muzzle on my leg, pondering how I should go about this relic searching. No luck finding it yet.. but I also don't know what the hell I'm doing.
I spare a glance at the flask around my thick neck, wishing that I could take a sip - just one sip! - to soothe the rumbling spirit inside me. Fuck it. Whatever stupid mission thing I'm on is just enough to distract me from the sorrows that are tugging at my insides. The pain of loneliness and guilt, the emptiness. If I focus on this fucking relic from this damn God maybe I can forget. Just for a little bit.
I lower my nose to the creek's bank, having no idea what I'm looking for. What scent, texture, color.. is it gold? Pink? Neon green? What's with my color choices... scaly or smooth, rough and scratchy? I grunt at the innocent green bank. Maybe it is in the water... I step into the calm creek water and stick my head underneath. Luckily on the edge it isn't too deep, and my eyes stay above the water. There's only silt on the bottom, as I discover with quivering nostrils and a scraggly, mud-covered beard.
I lift my mug from the water and grunt, then stomp a hoof angrily into the water, disturbing the serenity. "Well, where the hell is it? How do I know if I've found it?"
"."
