Too Hot To Touch -- Valley of the Sky

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Date Posted: 13:34:08 06/02/02 Sun
Author: Sunny
Subject: Too Hot To Touch

Thorns pricked, 'ead is raised, an' movment is made t'ward 'e. Just a soft call, a whicker of greetin', to let 'im know she was still 'ere, always would be.
Step is retraced an' plush brushes over ground, searchin' an' delicatley pickin' th' few small green shoots of good grazin' that remained...

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[> +Frozen+ -- +Antarctica+, 18:19:47 06/02/02 Sun

+Th' femma trott'd o'er t' 'er, cranium low'r'd e'er so slightly. Mare whick'r'd t' 'er. She t'would not risk graz'n, as th' mare t'would be able t' kick 'er 'xpos'd cranium, but t'would th' mare like 'er. Mare o snow pranc'd, toss'n 'er cranium slightly, front pill'r rais'd, brought down 'ard on ground.+

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[> .:Happy:. �Greets� -- .;Summer Sun:. �Anaconda�, 00:46:51 06/03/02 Mon

.:Fatale rais'd dial from th' emeralds an' auds swivel on 'earing call o' Sunny. Pistons make movement twards she an' plush immediatly extend'd. Occuli show great happiness at call o' she. She 'ad not seen thee Sunny for a while an' concern 'ad beeen building 'pon thoughts o' she. 'appy whicker is emitt'd to she as she moves beside she an' lowers doem to graze:.

�Fatale watch'd thee Sunny with curiousity; she 'ad not met she. Pistons carry bodice carefully twards 'er an' whicker is emitt'd in greeting. But warning was contain'd within whicker�
�Beware for I am not dubb'd Anaconda for nought.�

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[> [> +hello+ -- Flaming Snow, 21:22:51 06/03/02 Mon

+soft whicker offered to th' fatale, adoration ringin' true in th' tones, but no movement is made. Pillars fold nimbly beneath bodice an' lower th' sandy creature to th' ground, dome restin' contentedly on th' ground. What Cloud II 'ad said was true - though seemed dull, 'twas better to be tranquil than off fightin' or bein' attacked by wolves or such. 'e was pleased to see e'eryone well, though th' new issue o' Painting of Dark lingered on 'is mind like an open sore...+

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[> ~Forthought~ -- Sunny, 01:22:22 06/04/02 Tue

'earin' steps o' one dubbed "Antarctica" plush is extend'd fourth, registerin' th' scent, thorns directed in 'cceptance.

Soft greetin' is 'erd, to sh' matriarch, as proud 'eld 'ead turns. Sh' need feel not concern for seemin' absence o' sh', for though few seemed to relise, always sh' could be found, but appeared not unless called 'pon or at lesiure.

Final movement is direct'd 'pon thee dubbed "Anaconda".
Thorns laid back at wan'in', at attitude. But sh' cared not for enimies nor dominence, just so long as belov'd knew 'er devotion, an' certain respect was given from others, an' soon tensenes is gone an' creast is lowerd to graze beside sh', Anaconda...

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