"I never want to leave this place," Jerry stated as he lay in the long, warm grass, arms and legs outstretched. "This is wonderful. It is the best. I'm building a house here and staying for ever."
"Me, too," Dolores agreed with a contented sigh. The two had exited the dark confines of the forest and found themselves in a sprawling meadow, full of lush, yellow grass and dotted here and there with multicolored patches of wildflowers. The sun was shining over the field, and compared to the oppressive and aloof wood and rain, the warmth, beauty, and openness of the expanse was moving and real. Dolores had slid off of Jerry's back upon their arrival at the clearing, and the two walked around dumbstruck, admiring the luscious scenery for several minutes before collapsing to the ground like a drowning man who has finally found himself on the shore. Jerry moaned in reverent comfort, rolling back and forth in the grass and effectively flattening a good patch of about eight feet. It felt amazing; the sun was warm, the ground was warm, the faint sound of birdsong was in the air, and although the bull knew they couldn't stay for great lengths, it very much appeared to be a place in which they might live for a very long time.
"Wait, what?" he asked the open air indignantly, his eyes snapping open and his head lifting from the earth. "What do you mean, we can't stay for a long time? You brought us here, and we deserve the rest. We've been walking for days. You can't just make us leave!"
"Who are you talking to, Jerry?" Dolores inquired without opening her eyes, her voice growing heavy and lethargic. He lay his head back down with a frustrated grunt.
"Nobody," he told her, frustrated.
"Okay," she yawned. "You should be quiet and sleep." Curling into a fluffy ball, she promptly followed her own advice. Jerry looked over at her, a small smile tickling the corner of his mouth. He determined that they would wait to keep going until the sun had really started to set. Folding his arms behind his head, he let out a breath and closed his eyes again, letting the sweet sound of the sun and the breeze in the grass lull him into slumber.
They awoke in a literal fog. Twilight was descending on the valley, and in the meadow, the long shadows of the surrounding mountains were stretching over the grass. In the grey-golden haze of predusk, the familiar can often take on an unnatural or weird aesthetic; add to that a rolling fog, and even your own home may seem uninviting and sinister. It's beautiful in a way, but also strange and a little bit sinister. In a word, it's either wonder- or awful; essentially, they're synonymous: whichever you use depends on which connotation you prefer.
"Jerry, I can't see anything," stated the groggy sheep, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and squinting into the cloudy air.
"Don't worry, Dolly," the bull reassured her. He pointed toward a faint, shadowy smear in the mist. "I think I can see the forest over there. I don't really want to go back there, but at least it's someplace to go. We just have to keep close together so we don't get lost."
"Okay," she hesitantly agreed, taking his hand. "I don't want to go back, either."
"Yeah."
They started in the direction of the smudge, trying to keep it in front of them but occasionally losing sight of it whilst wandering around or over a boulder, hill or wind-blown log that would loom suddenly out of the fog just ahead. All the while, the sun was sinking lower towards the horizon, and the shadows grew longer. It was getting more and more difficult to distinguish tricks of the mist from actual obstacles, and all the while, the forest never seemed to be any closer. The two companions' determination waned as their legs became weary, and their hope of reaching a the shelter of the trees began to set like the sun.
"Let's just stop here," Jerry sighed as they crested another hillock. Dolores let go of his hand and the two unceremoniously plopped to the grass. The bovine looked around them at the impenetrable wall of cloud. "We might as well just stay here for the night," he determined, "The fog hasn't gotten any thinner since earlier, and I doubt it will let up at all once the sun is completely gone, which should be any second now. I don't know if--"
"Jerry, look over there!" He halted in his musings and turned to where the sheep was pointing.
"Ooh..." he breathed. The setting sun had crossed behind a crag between two mountains, allowing its golden rays to illuminate a straight path in the fog which seemed to ignite in glory and then dissipate. The light stretched right up to the base of the mound on which Jerry and Dolores were resting and revealed another hill several yards away. All this was magnificent, but what had really captured the travelers' attention was the small, striped cat sitting atop the adjacent hill. It was a proper cat, with golden cream-colored fur on its belly and thick, orange strips painting the rest of its body, which seemed to glow in the light. Its amber eyes were keen and gleaming with the sun, and it was looking away off into the mist, its whiskers forward, ears pricked and tail twitching ever so slightly.
"Jerry," Dolores said, her voice soft and breathy in awe of the beautiful display, "Do you see him?"
"Yeah, I do," Jerry nodded. Neither could explain why, but just the sight of the cat stirred in them warm feelings of happiness; although it was inactive, watching it was somehow comforting and reassuring, almost profoundly so.
"Should we try and get closer?" wondered Jerry after a moment.
"No, let's keep watching and see if it does anything." And so the two continued to observe the pristine feline. Only a minute or so later, however, it tensed, raising itself slightly, and then darted from the sunbeam, which subsequently started to fade as the sun passed below the split in the mountains. Jerry and Dolores jumped up. They looked at each other and knew that they were both thinking the same. Once again the bull and sheep joined hands, together dashing off after the cat as the fog once again filled the space cleared by the light.
They awoke in a literal fog. Twilight was descending on the valley, and in the meadow, the long shadows of the surrounding mountains were stretching over the grass. In the grey-golden haze of predusk, the familiar can often take on an unnatural or weird aesthetic; add to that a rolling fog, and even your own home may seem uninviting and sinister. It's beautiful in a way, but also strange and a little bit sinister. In a word, it's either wonder- or awful; essentially, they're synonymous: whichever you use depends on which connotation you prefer.
"Jerry, I can't see anything," stated the groggy sheep, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and squinting into the cloudy air.
"Don't worry, Dolly," the bull reassured her. He pointed toward a faint, shadowy smear in the mist. "I think I can see the forest over there. I don't really want to go back there, but at least it's someplace to go. We just have to keep close together so we don't get lost."
"Okay," she hesitantly agreed, taking his hand. "I don't want to go back, either."
"Yeah."
They started in the direction of the smudge, trying to keep it in front of them but occasionally losing sight of it whilst wandering around or over a boulder, hill or wind-blown log that would loom suddenly out of the fog just ahead. All the while, the sun was sinking lower towards the horizon, and the shadows grew longer. It was getting more and more difficult to distinguish tricks of the mist from actual obstacles, and all the while, the forest never seemed to be any closer. The two companions' determination waned as their legs became weary, and their hope of reaching a the shelter of the trees began to set like the sun.
"Let's just stop here," Jerry sighed as they crested another hillock. Dolores let go of his hand and the two unceremoniously plopped to the grass. The bovine looked around them at the impenetrable wall of cloud. "We might as well just stay here for the night," he determined, "The fog hasn't gotten any thinner since earlier, and I doubt it will let up at all once the sun is completely gone, which should be any second now. I don't know if--"
"Jerry, look over there!" He halted in his musings and turned to where the sheep was pointing.
"Ooh..." he breathed. The setting sun had crossed behind a crag between two mountains, allowing its golden rays to illuminate a straight path in the fog which seemed to ignite in glory and then dissipate. The light stretched right up to the base of the mound on which Jerry and Dolores were resting and revealed another hill several yards away. All this was magnificent, but what had really captured the travelers' attention was the small, striped cat sitting atop the adjacent hill. It was a proper cat, with golden cream-colored fur on its belly and thick, orange strips painting the rest of its body, which seemed to glow in the light. Its amber eyes were keen and gleaming with the sun, and it was looking away off into the mist, its whiskers forward, ears pricked and tail twitching ever so slightly.
"Jerry," Dolores said, her voice soft and breathy in awe of the beautiful display, "Do you see him?"
"Yeah, I do," Jerry nodded. Neither could explain why, but just the sight of the cat stirred in them warm feelings of happiness; although it was inactive, watching it was somehow comforting and reassuring, almost profoundly so.
"Should we try and get closer?" wondered Jerry after a moment.
"No, let's keep watching and see if it does anything." And so the two continued to observe the pristine feline. Only a minute or so later, however, it tensed, raising itself slightly, and then darted from the sunbeam, which subsequently started to fade as the sun passed below the split in the mountains. Jerry and Dolores jumped up. They looked at each other and knew that they were both thinking the same. Once again the bull and sheep joined hands, together dashing off after the cat as the fog once again filled the space cleared by the light.
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