BATTLECRY

I've had my share of Falls

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The sun shown high above the horizon, creating an illuminating blue and white abstract pattern. Different clouds, all shapes and sizes, loomed across the empty sky, attracting other organisms. It would rain soon, those clouds heavy and dark. The land needed rain, and the grass was dying, growing brown. Everything needed rain. For thirst, for energy, for whatever. But the tension was being needed to cut down. It caused conflict, which caused war. Oh war, oh war, please come another day. Rain always seemed to bring sadness, but today it would bring happiness. For all would rejoice, dancing in the rain. Storms were wonderful, their power, their beauty. They had an awesome ending to. Rainbows. Colorful streaks that painted the sky, across the horizon and through the clouds. It marked a new beginning, of growth. Not just physical, but emotional. Clans would huddle together, providing each other with warmth to keep away the cold from the breeze after the storm. Battlecry loved rain. It was a cleanser that could feasibly wash away all the worries and devastations. It capabilities were beyond comprehension for it rain has a violatel personality.
Sands of time churn in some steady perpetual motion, as each grain drips down through the neck of the hourglass it makes room for the next to follow. Never ending, perpetual motion, perhaps the only thing constant on this earth. Everything else always comes to an end, always has an expiry date. But time, we can always trust, to never stop.
Time can tear some apart or bring them together.

Battlecry's long raven limbs carried him forth from the darkness. His steps were naught hurried nor were they fumbling. The dark gladiator's stride was confident while relving in the languidity of his height. After his undertone inquery was given, motion was halted a few yards away. Though many flee from his glowering form, it was not his intention to further frighten the pale mare. Blood tinted nares flared once more to catch the wafting scent of her anxiety and pure terror. Though it seemed to subside some after Moon Maiden saw his figure and heard his tones. Her single word barely reached his erect lobes. His usual cold demeanor slipped away into a facade of softend sympathy. The bold crown of Battlecry lowered to the vertical as his deep baritone notes drew forth.
~Moon Maiden. What has happened?~