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Into the Forest
by KopaLeo
Inn í Skóginn
Cosmia can’t remember anything, nor has she any thoughts right now. Raw sensations come without judgment or interpretation. It took some time before she is awake enough to form a thought.
“It is dark.”
It takes some more time for her to sense her own existence before she tries to remember how she came to be, but she is in a headache, the kind of headache from sleeping too much, and she decides to delay the reminiscence to when the headache subsides.
She struggles to her hooves. Her eyes are now adapted to the dark enough for her to see her surroundings.
Cosmia looks around. The landscape is destitute, and looks colorless in the dim light. Whatever little light comes from the sky – itself a very dark gray. The ground is very unpleasantly damp, the kind of dampness that happens after snow melts.
Cosmia feels a hot thirst in her throat. Looking around, she locates a brook, at the edge of a forest.
When she comes to the bank of the brook, she noticed that every tree the forest is surfaced with ice. The whole forest is like a delicate glass sculpture.
Cosmia indulges herself in the brook until she feels her stomach is filled.
The headache has subsided somewhat. She looks around herself, and sees, lying near the root of a tree, a broken… thing… a teles… cope, yes, a telescope.
Cosmia picks up the telescope. The copper surface still retains its sheen, but it is dented and badly scratched on some sections. She turns to see its object lens. Broken glass promptly falls out of the eyepiece. She plays with this, peeping through whatever lens is left inside.
She can’t put a hoof on it, but the telescope feels familiar and soothing. “If only I can fix it,” she thinks, “then I can… I… can… watch the… things on the sky. Stars.”
Without too much thought, she walks into the forest, carrying the telescope in her mouth. The forest floor is also covered with deep ice, but the surface is cracked and matted, so she has no fear of slipping.
She does not look back, but behind her, her hoofsteps on the trail are turning deep red.
by KopaLeo
Inn í Skóginn
Cosmia can’t remember anything, nor has she any thoughts right now. Raw sensations come without judgment or interpretation. It took some time before she is awake enough to form a thought.
“It is dark.”
It takes some more time for her to sense her own existence before she tries to remember how she came to be, but she is in a headache, the kind of headache from sleeping too much, and she decides to delay the reminiscence to when the headache subsides.
She struggles to her hooves. Her eyes are now adapted to the dark enough for her to see her surroundings.
Cosmia looks around. The landscape is destitute, and looks colorless in the dim light. Whatever little light comes from the sky – itself a very dark gray. The ground is very unpleasantly damp, the kind of dampness that happens after snow melts.
Cosmia feels a hot thirst in her throat. Looking around, she locates a brook, at the edge of a forest.
When she comes to the bank of the brook, she noticed that every tree the forest is surfaced with ice. The whole forest is like a delicate glass sculpture.
Cosmia indulges herself in the brook until she feels her stomach is filled.
The headache has subsided somewhat. She looks around herself, and sees, lying near the root of a tree, a broken… thing… a teles… cope, yes, a telescope.
Cosmia picks up the telescope. The copper surface still retains its sheen, but it is dented and badly scratched on some sections. She turns to see its object lens. Broken glass promptly falls out of the eyepiece. She plays with this, peeping through whatever lens is left inside.
She can’t put a hoof on it, but the telescope feels familiar and soothing. “If only I can fix it,” she thinks, “then I can… I… can… watch the… things on the sky. Stars.”
Without too much thought, she walks into the forest, carrying the telescope in her mouth. The forest floor is also covered with deep ice, but the surface is cracked and matted, so she has no fear of slipping.
She does not look back, but behind her, her hoofsteps on the trail are turning deep red.
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