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SV: Ch1 Extra Prompt 1 :: Fiery Exploration

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Horse's name: A823 ECr Odtsetseg
Rider's name: McKenna Hansen
Link to tracker image: Summer Voyager Tracker
Prompt # or Extra #: Chapter One: A Stranger in the Night
Extra Prompt #1
Collaboration: No.

:iconsummervoyager-rpg:






Dragon! Dragon! Dragon! Every instinct in Odtsetseg’s body screamed at her to destroy the egg—smash its iridescent shell to bits on the wet stones. Her hunter blood, passed down from untold generations, hummed in her veins. She lifted one dinner plate-sized hoof, the skin along her topline twitching with aversion.

Pressed against Mac’s right side, Kanorlan gave a low huff—a warning. The fenwolf’s violet eyes creased with concern and he gave a subtle shake of his broad head. Ossie lowered her leg and tossed her long, jagged forelock out of her blue eyes. Mac glanced up at the dunalino mare, then turned her attention back to the egg. Carefully, Mac lifted it out of the satchel and sat back down on her haunches, holding the egg up to her face for a closer look. Kan poked his nose over Mac’s shoulder and gave the egg a cursory sniff; his blue lips curled back, flashing long, sharp canines.

“I wonder why she had this,” Mac murmured, turning the egg around so that the sunlight flickered off the iridescent shell. “Who in their right mind would willingly carry a dragon’s egg—then abandon it?”

Ossie stared at the egg, her brow furrowing. It looked like a dragon’s egg—it even smelled like one.

The Nordanner mare paused, inhaled again. No. No it didn’t.

“It’s not a dragon’s egg,” Kanorlan confirmed.
   
Mac raised her right eyebrow. “It’s not?” She spun the egg delicately in her hands. “What is it, then?”
   
Kan pressed the tip of his black nose to the top of the shell. “I … don’t know. But it smells … wrong.”
   
Ossie knew that smell. While she wasn’t born of magic, like the Favarikunds of Eagle Creek, the heat potions she’d ingested as a foal lent her some sensitivity to it. Most dragons had magic, of course, but this was a different sort entirely. She just couldn’t figure out what kind. Ossie sighed and shook her head. That was Corsicus’ purview. The stocky silver buckskin head stallion would have been able to discern the exact type of magic within a few minutes.
   
Whatever it was, she hated being near it. Her preternatural calm cracked, sending a spark of flame flickering above her head.
   
“Oss?” Mac’s chin lifted as the first puff of flame erupted over the mare’s mane. “Are you all right?”
   
Slowly, Ossie backed away, her mane and tail popping, fizzing, and eventually giving over to flame. “Not really,” the mare admitted between gritted teeth. “Kanorlan is right. That thing is an abomination.”  Turning, the mare moved as far away from the egg as she could, until the itching along her topline subsided. The flames remained, however.
   
Mac’s lips parted, but she clamped down on whatever she was going to say. Settling the egg safely between her knees, the red-headed woman began rifling through the leather satchel, no doubt looking for clues as to the mystery woman.
   
Ossie had a sneaky suspicion that they were going to be carrying that thing with them when they left the farm. If that mystery woman had left it here, chances were she wasn’t coming back.
   
With a sigh, Ossie pawed at the wet stones, the rain already beginning to evaporate with the rising sun. Her sharp blue eyes caught a swatch of yellow on the otherwise grey stone. Steadily clopping over to it, Ossie sniffed the wet hay leading out of the stable. An echo of human magic, long dampened by time and the storm, flittered up to her. Flames crackling along her mane and tail, the dunalino mare turned her head towards the woods. An intermittent trail of hay—a shaft here, a clump there—meandered down the hill, until it vanished.
   
Was she out there?
   
Ossie pivoted and left the stone courtyard, her nose low to the ground like Kanorlan. Wet grass steamed in her presence, the flat green-yellow blades drying out and standing upright as she passed. For the first time in her life, Ossie yearned for the innate magic possessed by her Favarikund stablemates. If only to quickly find this strange mage and give her the egg back. As it stood, she followed the trail of hay to its natural conclusion—a hole in the brush at the edge of the woods. Somehow, the magess was able to eliminate her natural scent, leaving only the barest hint of her magic.
   
“Ossie?” Mac called.
   
The dunalino mare lifted her head, but didn’t turn around. She stared into the woods, keen eyes desperately trying to pierce the thick foliage. Whoever she was, the egg-carrier was gone. Pivoting on one large grey hoof, Ossie spun around, careful not to set the leaves alight with her flame.


Art, story (c) me
Reference: Scarlet 5
Word count: 786
Image size
508x800px 218.91 KB
© 2017 - 2024 shekeira
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