The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
—
Aster doesn’t care for the noise of it all, when she’s used to her world being so small - only her parents, her twin, and the little cheetahs that have followed them since the Opening. Now the cheetahs are hiding, too small, too secret for this (as, perhaps, their children should be too).
There are more and more horses, and the pale filly’s heart beats faster and faster within the cage of her ribs. They are waiting for something, but it seems to her that they are growing tired of it, and she stays with Leonidas in the far edges of the group, intent and watchful. Every few moments she wonders Now? but every time the answer is not yet, not yet.
Until there is a strange and terrible sound. Until the roots and branches of the trees begin to twist into marvelous shapes, things she leans forward to see, things she can only make out from between the thicket of legs and bodies crowded ahead of her. The noise is terrible, the smells of fear and saltwater and magic acrid on the air; she will always remember that smell, and traces of it will always make her think of this clearing, and the island, and the relic shining like a star.
Aster has never seen a snake. But when the leaves shed and the sand rises up to form a creature, she knows instinctively that it is dangerous - and, in its coiling, writhing, eternal twining that it only wants to protect.
Some of the horses run. Others mill about in confusion and alarm. A wave of them attacks the creature, and Aster watches with her golden eyes narrowed, her little heart beating, beating, beating.
It is chaotic enough that something small and quick might slip through, into the island the snake has made with its body, the island where the treasure lives.
She and her twin are small and quick.
Aster catches the eye of her brother and begins to circle wide around the ring of bodies, away from the snake-head with its sea-void eyes and away from the crush of horses.
@Leonidas for the mention
Aster chooses option 3
There are more and more horses, and the pale filly’s heart beats faster and faster within the cage of her ribs. They are waiting for something, but it seems to her that they are growing tired of it, and she stays with Leonidas in the far edges of the group, intent and watchful. Every few moments she wonders Now? but every time the answer is not yet, not yet.
Until there is a strange and terrible sound. Until the roots and branches of the trees begin to twist into marvelous shapes, things she leans forward to see, things she can only make out from between the thicket of legs and bodies crowded ahead of her. The noise is terrible, the smells of fear and saltwater and magic acrid on the air; she will always remember that smell, and traces of it will always make her think of this clearing, and the island, and the relic shining like a star.
Aster has never seen a snake. But when the leaves shed and the sand rises up to form a creature, she knows instinctively that it is dangerous - and, in its coiling, writhing, eternal twining that it only wants to protect.
Some of the horses run. Others mill about in confusion and alarm. A wave of them attacks the creature, and Aster watches with her golden eyes narrowed, her little heart beating, beating, beating.
It is chaotic enough that something small and quick might slip through, into the island the snake has made with its body, the island where the treasure lives.
She and her twin are small and quick.
Aster catches the eye of her brother and begins to circle wide around the ring of bodies, away from the snake-head with its sea-void eyes and away from the crush of horses.
@
Aster chooses option 3
