From the Grips of the Dangle-Hide (May 3010) - [One-Shot]
May 16, 2018 14:52:42 GMT -5
Post by Buruu Zam Ükher on May 16, 2018 14:52:42 GMT -5
Three days the dangle-hide had been stuck on his horns; Ükher was tired of seeing it swing back and forth through his vision, though whatever it was did not weigh heavy on him. Three days; it was hard to believe it had already been so long since the bipedal and his fast-hoof had come upon him, and Ükher had needed to be a bad bull to save himself from the long sleep.
He hoped his bipedal would forgive him; she was the one who told him to always be good, and petted his horns, rubbed his nose, and let his pink tongue lick her skin. Ükher had considered going back to check on the bipedal, but he had a branch, and the pointy air-birds…
Ultimately, the bull had decided it was not worth the risk.
He huffed, his nostrils flaring and contracting with the motion. At least he had seen no more fast-hooves or their hunters. He had been able to graze and step with ease, feel the great orb of light warm upon his back and horns. It would have been perfect if he could just manage to get the dangle-hide off.
Once more the bull tossed his head, though as the strapped thing slid over his horn, it did not go far enough, and the next toss of his head brought it back up against his ear.
“Moooo,” the bull offered in frustration. Maybe it would never come off.
“Moooo,” a call came in reply.
Ükher froze, brown eyes widening as he swept his head from side to side. One of his kind; a member of the herd. “Moooo?” He repeated, the bellow low and full.
He had not misheard. Once more he heard the call of one of his own kind, and with a quick step he moved to follow its direction. It did not take long before he found a strange thing.
There was a herd; he could see it plodding and moving about slowly, heads ducked and munching as often they were back home on the steppe. And yet, none he could see had horns like him, or even like those he knew who had them grow in the right way. In fact, many did not have horns at all, and the one that did was secluded, off by himself. Perhaps because he had lost them, the bull mused. They were very small, after all.
They were surrounded by wood. Ükher recalled well the scent of the trees that had sprouted up on the steppe in sparse clusters. These, though, were strange. They grew sideways, in circles. Well, stretched circles. It looked like perhaps someone had sat on it and made the sides straight.
The herd inside mulled and mooed, walking carefully and contentedly. Yet Ükher could not understand. Perhaps the herds of this land knew something that he did not. “Moooo,” he called to them. A few lifted their heads and blinked, grinding grass between their teeth. A chorus of like sounds drifted back, and something—a bipedal!—lifted their head from the middle of the mooing herd.
“I’ll be, you’re a big one,” the man gasped, drawing a hand over his brow.
Ükher froze, holding very still. Perhaps he would look more like a tree this time if he did not move his ears.
“What you have there, hm? On your horn…” The bipedal was moving slowly toward the trees, steps easy, voice easy also. The herd moved behind him, sniffing and licking at his elbows and hands. The bipedal, though, did not turn and make them do the long sleep; he was intent upon Ükher—likely deciding if he was really a tree or not.
This time, the bull told his ears not to move. He did not want anything to ruin his disguise! Closer and closer the bipedal crept; his mane was silver, almost alike the bipedal he knew. His face, though, seemed different. It looked too big, and saggy. Not like the bipedal from back home. Her mane was longer, too. His eyes, though, still seemed kind.
“That a bag? You lost, mayhaps?” The man continued to mutter to himself. He stood now at the line of sideways trees, looking at Ükher directly. The bull tried to not look back, though it seemed of little use. He knew he was there, and he could see all the other cows coming up behind him, eyeing him as well.
He just needed to be a tree a little while longer, and surely the bipedal would leave. Unfortunately, his tail twitched, and Ükher knew his disguise was broken.
Slowly, over the trees the bipedal moved. “Woah there, now,” he was humming. While Ükher could not understand the words, the tones were sweeping and soothing. Maybe the bipedal still thought he was a tree. Ükher just needed to remain still…
He could smell the bipedal now. He was of salt, and water. His clothes were different than the bipedal’s he used to know, the one he sought over this strange land; his skin looked brown, almost like that of Ükher’s coat. He wondered if it was common for bipedals to come in different shades as a cow often did.
“Moooo,” the calls sounded from behind the bipedal, in the strange wrapped line of sideways trees.
“Here you are, big guy…” The bipedal said, reaching carefully for the dangle-hide. Ükher’s nostril’s flared and puffed, for he could not help himself. “Easy, easy,” the bipedal added. A quick tug and the dangle-hide came free.
Ükher immediately backpedaled, and so did the small bipedal in front of him. “Mooo,” Ükher bellowed. A warning.
“No need for that, no need,” the bipedal answered.
At least he was backing away, Ükher decided. He was doing something, though, and despite the bull’s better thought, he was curious. He lingered, large brown eyes peering at the way the bipedal’s fingers moved to open the dangle-hide.
“What in the—?” The bipedal’s eyes widened, and he looked inside. Ükher wondered what, perhaps, was in there, though he could offer no question, only another moo. “That there looks like something straight from King Brand’s coffers! Now where’d a nice bull like you get this?”
Well, it became clear the bipedal was not going to show the bull what it was he had been carrying in the dangle-hide, and Ükher could smell as well that it was nothing to eat, and therefore of little importance. Quickly he took more steps back. “Mooo,” he said.
“Wait, now. I need to find your—”
The bipedal’s voice faded as Ükher turned and began to run his way further yet upon his course. If he had finally made it to the land of nice bipedals, soon he would see the familiar one he had followed all this way. His heart was glad, and with the dangle-hide removed, Ükher felt incredibly content. “Moooo!” He exclaimed, sound as pleasant as the glow-orb in the sky.
He would find her, soon!
He hoped his bipedal would forgive him; she was the one who told him to always be good, and petted his horns, rubbed his nose, and let his pink tongue lick her skin. Ükher had considered going back to check on the bipedal, but he had a branch, and the pointy air-birds…
Ultimately, the bull had decided it was not worth the risk.
He huffed, his nostrils flaring and contracting with the motion. At least he had seen no more fast-hooves or their hunters. He had been able to graze and step with ease, feel the great orb of light warm upon his back and horns. It would have been perfect if he could just manage to get the dangle-hide off.
Once more the bull tossed his head, though as the strapped thing slid over his horn, it did not go far enough, and the next toss of his head brought it back up against his ear.
“Moooo,” the bull offered in frustration. Maybe it would never come off.
“Moooo,” a call came in reply.
Ükher froze, brown eyes widening as he swept his head from side to side. One of his kind; a member of the herd. “Moooo?” He repeated, the bellow low and full.
He had not misheard. Once more he heard the call of one of his own kind, and with a quick step he moved to follow its direction. It did not take long before he found a strange thing.
There was a herd; he could see it plodding and moving about slowly, heads ducked and munching as often they were back home on the steppe. And yet, none he could see had horns like him, or even like those he knew who had them grow in the right way. In fact, many did not have horns at all, and the one that did was secluded, off by himself. Perhaps because he had lost them, the bull mused. They were very small, after all.
They were surrounded by wood. Ükher recalled well the scent of the trees that had sprouted up on the steppe in sparse clusters. These, though, were strange. They grew sideways, in circles. Well, stretched circles. It looked like perhaps someone had sat on it and made the sides straight.
The herd inside mulled and mooed, walking carefully and contentedly. Yet Ükher could not understand. Perhaps the herds of this land knew something that he did not. “Moooo,” he called to them. A few lifted their heads and blinked, grinding grass between their teeth. A chorus of like sounds drifted back, and something—a bipedal!—lifted their head from the middle of the mooing herd.
“I’ll be, you’re a big one,” the man gasped, drawing a hand over his brow.
Ükher froze, holding very still. Perhaps he would look more like a tree this time if he did not move his ears.
“What you have there, hm? On your horn…” The bipedal was moving slowly toward the trees, steps easy, voice easy also. The herd moved behind him, sniffing and licking at his elbows and hands. The bipedal, though, did not turn and make them do the long sleep; he was intent upon Ükher—likely deciding if he was really a tree or not.
This time, the bull told his ears not to move. He did not want anything to ruin his disguise! Closer and closer the bipedal crept; his mane was silver, almost alike the bipedal he knew. His face, though, seemed different. It looked too big, and saggy. Not like the bipedal from back home. Her mane was longer, too. His eyes, though, still seemed kind.
“That a bag? You lost, mayhaps?” The man continued to mutter to himself. He stood now at the line of sideways trees, looking at Ükher directly. The bull tried to not look back, though it seemed of little use. He knew he was there, and he could see all the other cows coming up behind him, eyeing him as well.
He just needed to be a tree a little while longer, and surely the bipedal would leave. Unfortunately, his tail twitched, and Ükher knew his disguise was broken.
Slowly, over the trees the bipedal moved. “Woah there, now,” he was humming. While Ükher could not understand the words, the tones were sweeping and soothing. Maybe the bipedal still thought he was a tree. Ükher just needed to remain still…
He could smell the bipedal now. He was of salt, and water. His clothes were different than the bipedal’s he used to know, the one he sought over this strange land; his skin looked brown, almost like that of Ükher’s coat. He wondered if it was common for bipedals to come in different shades as a cow often did.
“Moooo,” the calls sounded from behind the bipedal, in the strange wrapped line of sideways trees.
“Here you are, big guy…” The bipedal said, reaching carefully for the dangle-hide. Ükher’s nostril’s flared and puffed, for he could not help himself. “Easy, easy,” the bipedal added. A quick tug and the dangle-hide came free.
Ükher immediately backpedaled, and so did the small bipedal in front of him. “Mooo,” Ükher bellowed. A warning.
“No need for that, no need,” the bipedal answered.
At least he was backing away, Ükher decided. He was doing something, though, and despite the bull’s better thought, he was curious. He lingered, large brown eyes peering at the way the bipedal’s fingers moved to open the dangle-hide.
“What in the—?” The bipedal’s eyes widened, and he looked inside. Ükher wondered what, perhaps, was in there, though he could offer no question, only another moo. “That there looks like something straight from King Brand’s coffers! Now where’d a nice bull like you get this?”
Well, it became clear the bipedal was not going to show the bull what it was he had been carrying in the dangle-hide, and Ükher could smell as well that it was nothing to eat, and therefore of little importance. Quickly he took more steps back. “Mooo,” he said.
“Wait, now. I need to find your—”
The bipedal’s voice faded as Ükher turned and began to run his way further yet upon his course. If he had finally made it to the land of nice bipedals, soon he would see the familiar one he had followed all this way. His heart was glad, and with the dangle-hide removed, Ükher felt incredibly content. “Moooo!” He exclaimed, sound as pleasant as the glow-orb in the sky.
He would find her, soon!