Two of a Kind | Private

It was like feeling someone run towards you - the frantic trembling of the ground, each step falling quicker than the next. You could not yet hear them, you couldn't see or smell them. But you could feel them, and that was the sensation that brought Ozzer out of the trance he often assumed while mindlessly wandering the tunnels. He could tell from experience that they were a long way off. A mile or two it seemed. He was a bit shakier on the direction, but he focused as intently upon it as he could.

Horses didn't just run through the Labyrinth - running meant death either followed them or waited ahead. Sensing a horse hurrying through the tunnels was never a feeling Ozzer welcomed, and yet out of a sense of duty he began to redirect his route. The donkey's pace remained steady; he might know the tunnels like the back of his hoof, but even he could slip up. And he had learned that the faster he went, and the less contact he made with the ground, the more his blessing was impaired. It was clear this horse, whoever they were, was lost, and it wouldn't help if he, in turn, lost them. But they certainly made it difficult - constantly changing direction. Backtracking. Turning here and there at random. At one point they even ran out of the range of Ozzer's senses, but soon returned, obviously once again turned around. The donkey grew increasingly frustrated at the other horse, and it wasn't long before his teeth were tightly set and his whole body tense, moving forward at a walk that bordered on a trot.

The steady game of chase lasted quite some time, and Ozzer had become quite angry by the time the horse suddenly stopped. The young fox bat that had been asleep on top of his saddlebags had awoken, jostled around by his companion's stiff but fast-paced shuffle and his constant stream of cussing. But, feeling the abrupt lack of the other horse's presence, Ozzer's tirade ended and his own hooves came to a halt. The stranger hadn't distanced themselves, he had felt them too clearly only a second before, so they must have stopped. For what reason, though, he could only guess. He hadn't felt the unmistakable trembling of rock... but there could have been the falling of a body, or a head connecting with a unnoticed stalactite, that he missed. The increased gravity of the situation cleared the anger from his mind. Tracking a running horse was hard, but tracking a still one was harder; now he'd simply have to rely on the direction he last thought he'd felt them. Each step seemed too slow now. "Hold on," he growled to the bat, Radar, not even waiting for the small claws to pinch into the fabric before he took off at an ungainly trot. Radar flapped one wing that had lost it's grip before regaining hold and hunkering down for a bumpy ride.

Ozzer moved as fast as he dared. He was no help to this other horse if he got hurt, and he needed to be able to sense if they began moving again. But each hoof step brought metaphorical silence. Whatever had made them stop was keeping them down. He was unsure of how long the journey lasted, but it was too long. He tried to focus on picturing the tunnel he thought them to be in and simply getting himself there. This was not particularly hard, but the self-doubt that crept into his mind with each step made it seem impossible. Was not correct about their position? Was he even close? What if he ran right past them, and never knew because they were obscured in a dark ravine?

Finally he approached the tunnel he had believed them to be in. He slowed, his breaths ragged from the adrenaline and unfamiliar exertion. Ozzer looked around desperately, the dark thoughts of uncertainty clouding his mind. Radar climbed up Ozzer's neck, and began to look around as well though he had no clue what was going on. "Shit," Ozzer hissed. "They aren't here." He had miscalculated, and was now in the wrong tunnel with no idea what direction the lost stranger truly lay. He shut his eyes, a feeling of misplaced guilt knotting in his stomach. He could feel Radar scrambling down from his back, the claws haphazardly digging into his ribs before the bat dropped off with an ungraceful flop, but he ignored his familiar.

It wasn't until the little bat started chattering that Ozzer turned his head to him, annoyed. Probably another gemstone, or a broken piece of junk that someone had dropped in their travels - Radar was always picking up stuff like that and sticking it into his saddlebags. But instead he saw two small hooves jutting out from the rock.

Ozzer had to do a double take to realize the horse had not been crushed, but was simply lying inside a recess in the wall. He said nothing for a long while, simply staring. It was only when Radar almost crawled up onto the being - so tactless! - that Ozzer rushed forward, firmly (but gently) nudging the bat away from the body. He could not make out much; the dim glow of the tunnel barely lit the hooves, let alone the shadows inside the alcove. But it was a foal, of that he was certain by the size and shape. He could now smell the sharp scent of fear - a smell he must have overlooked in his own frustration. The foal also smelled strongly of dirt, he had not been above the surface in some time, if ever: a Breim native. He did not smell blood or death, and now that he was close he could hear the gentle sounds of breathing. They were alive. Exhausted, but alive.

Ozzer, feeling worn down himself after the chase, stepped back quietly, deftly snatching Radar up by his scruff before the bat tried once more to climb on the foal and deposited him on his back. Again he stood, simply staring. Had they run away from home - becoming frantic once they realized they didn't know as much about the tunnels as they had thought? Had they gotten separated from their family? At this thought he looked up and down the tunnel, but he knew the answer. In the whole distance that his tremor sense ranged he felt nothing but the occasional scurry of a rat. No one was around for miles. How then, did this foal end up lost and alone in the tunnels?

There was only one way to know, and besides, he told himself, he should get this foal back to wherever it was they came from. "Wake up," he called, rather awkwardly. Ozzer figured (from experience) that it was a better wake up call than having a bat crawl over you, though. When the foal did not stir, he cleared his throat, and repeated it. "Hey, wake up."