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elodieunderglass · 2 months ago

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And one amang, an Iyrysch man,

Uppone his hoby swyftly ran…

WAIT HANG ON - slamming the brakes on drawing this stupid picture - do you nerds even KNOW the etymology of the word “hobby”? The thing you do for pleasure? The thing you have too many of? The thing you spend too much money on and share with your friends? The thing tumblr probably is to you? Those hobbies?

It comes from a now-kind-of-extinct breed of Irish pony-horse. It was called the Irish Hobby. Supposedly the hobby got its name from the Gaelic word obann, or swift. They definitely were. They’d obann your pants clean off.

Fast tough little bastards, built for rough terrain and renowned for their speed and stamina, hobby horses belonged to the Celts, and their highly annoying style of mounted warfare. but their conquerors liked hobby horses a lot, kept them, used them for themselves, and found them useful enough, despite the fact that they also had famously useful things like mounted knights or horse archers. A lightweight Irish warrior, mounted on a hobby horse, was called a hobelar.

Reportedly and in depictions, hobelars rode without stirrups. Or saddles. Or bridles. Or - well - this is all sounding very improbable, because the hobelars COULDNT have just been charging around basically bare-assed on naked ponies, screaming, and somehow in the process undoing the composure of actual mounted armoured knights. Knights who, I remind you, had stirrups. Stirrups are useful! It’s quite likely the hobelars had some gear. And clothes. and weapons. And the ponies probably had some tack - I am picturing a bellyband that you could at least hang a saddlebag on, and a neck rope for catching the bloody thing, even if not a saddle. But the overall impression, somehow created by people on darling little ponies, was apparently quite striking and fearful.

I mean. God Forbid People Have Hobbies.

Anyway after a while, whatever people became the British had eventually conquered all of the rough terrain that hobbies were best at, and horse archers just got sexier, and mounted knights became aristos, and all the bog and forest people had been subdued, so it was time to sunset the hobelars. but WAIT! Hobby horses are still tremendously fun and appealing! They’re so fast! and you can ride them without a saddle! Sure, they’re not up to the weight of a mounted knight, or indeed a lot of guys… but surely we can still find a use for a hobby or two? In the back garden? Somewhere?

At which point an English king decided to keep hobby horses just for fun. No military application. No further development of the technology. Not for fun. Just as expensive, pleasurable, pets. Just for the joy of the thing.

And that is how hobby (activity done purely for pleasure) comes from hobby horse (small horse) possibly from obann (swift.) they’re very interesting and you should look all this up for yourself! because it sure sounds like Elodie doing a bit, doesn’t it?

Today, Irish Hobbies are functionally nonexistent. References for drawing include the Kerry Bog Pony, the Connemara, and (I personally think) Dartmoors and Exmoors. They’re said to have lent their speed to the Irish Hunter/Sport Horse and from there to the Thoroughbred, but every damn horse in the world claims relation to the Thoroughbred, and they can’t be THAT thoroughly bred.

At any rate - you can never have enough hobbies. Just be glad that yours aren’t expensive beasts with minds of their own, eating their heads off in the pasture! …Unless they are. In which case, you’re part of a proud tradition.

#Killie #this is Killie’s ancestor who occasionally turns up in hallucinations with various ghost horses #like all elements of magical realism in the killieverse he does absolutely NOTHING useful.#your ancestor is neither proud of you nor disappointed in you. he’s riding alongside explaining some thoughts he had at breakfast #performing weird fuckin feats of equitation outside the window while you’re trying to sit through school or waiting in the queue at Greggs #if you wake up in a hospital bed in a bleary moment before consciousness he’s perched next to you chattering complete fucking nonsense #about. like. the stupidest stuff. like he’s just free-associating his thoughts based on a pattern in the ceiling tiles. incredibly annoying #his dialect just close enough to Irish that you can pick out a few words here and there #enough to tell that it’s complete nonsense. but also he’ll just say things like BASED. (possibly he is also visiting miles?)#and occasionally he points out that he did everything you do in your job but barefoot. no stirrups. in the snow. uphill both ways.#which is quite hard to do in a bog since they’re notably quite distinctively flat usually so sometimes he’d have to find a hill and ride up #and down it a few times just to build character. no saddle no bridle no shoes and the Romans were there maybe - and when you object to that #thinking there seems to be a lot of collision of timelines and historical accuracy - he doesn’t speak Irish suddenly . and why would he.#anyway he doesn’t exist and never did. but he’s fun #occasionally turns up to ride alongside you in a race apparently just to prove he can keep up with modern breeds #usually he can surprisingly well but tbf his horse is a ghost. and when he can’t he says well. I’m not a professional like you.#this. is just my hobby. ahahahahahahahahahshahahahahasha #and with that I get back on my hobby horse and ride away

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quibble-auk · 19 days ago

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I’m here, I got side tracked with the goofy doodles and then I remembered that I need to scream at you about this because my goodness.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

Oh boy, where to begin? Ugh, so many thoughts. So many feelings. Imma butcher this because yk, im gifted with words. Great at explaining things. I’m so sorry, this is gonna be a ramble.

Okay uhhhhh. Collecting thoughts and feelings. The setting??? Excuse me??? Im jealous. The way you describe things, the way you paint a picture with your words. I struggle with setting most of the time, but every time you do it flawlessly. The word choice, the descriptions, the feeling. I’m not okay. Like the thing with the bodies??? That’s so smart??? So wonderful and excellent???

How do you come up with things like this???? UGH, and the whole mission thing. I too know nothing about battles or war or strategies but you’ve got me sold. Yeah, they will start fires to drive people places. That’s legit. It’s a thing now. Seemed reasonable to me. Something Jazz and Prowl would come up with as a battle strategy.

Agh, calling them Jazz’s snakes?????? I will never not love. You are always so creative with stuff like that. I try, and usually fail. It’s such a perfect way to describe it, especially from Comet’s pov.

And Comets involvement in such a devious little plan is wonderful. Hehehe, he’s looking over the battle and fires like the dramatic teenager he is with a broody internal monologue. I’m here for it. I can see it, him gazing in the distance with a grim expression. It’s fantastic.

He’s like “yeah I should go home but first I have to have my main character moment.” I mean this in the highest regards btw, my guys are bigger divas than Comet. It just satisfies an itch.

Yes, I know it’s not actually to be dramatic and whatnot, buddy is hurt, but let me dream.

Ahhhh, and then my girlie popped up??? I wasn’t ready for that, had a little “oh my gosh! That’s my guy! They are talking about my dude!!” Proud mother moment. Hehehehehe, and I assume the seeker is Overstrike, which is wonderful. Ugh, the idea of Comet getting chased by both of them is kinda terrifying to be honest. He thinks he’s in the clear but then a big ass bomber shows up like “ah yes, hello, my pookie is looking for you” and then just starts trying to grab you.

Cause yeah, Overstrike is significantly taller than Sunrazor, and Sunrazor already dwarfs the poor boy.

And my girlies little maniac group is mentioned! Which is always exciting. I need to do stuff with them. Does make me wonder about Powercase hanging around the outpost and if Comet ever runs into him (or even knows him)—actually, that’s kinda a scene I’ve been thinking of. I need to write that. It’s a lot of assumptions so you are allowed to say no, but I wanna surprise you first heheheheheh.

Ahem. Anyway, back on track.

Ngl, I kinda forgot the blanket was repurposed into a scarf for a moment. It took me a second when I read scarf. I was so confused. Then I remembered this was custody au and I was being an idiot.

Aghhh, when Comet started thinking about Dropmix and Jeopardy and he was like “ah yes, this makes me feel all warm and safe” my heart. Had to take. A moment to breathe because that was adorable. He sniffs the scarf like a little guy and that’s just… UUUGGGHHHHHHH.

Comet I love you.

Also, nose??? Angular nose???? Does he officially have one now?????? I’m hyped???? The boy has a sniffer???? He can now be booped?????? This is so important and I’m latching onto this information. Does this mean we are out of the maybe phase with it?

Hehehehhe, they don’t want him to go, if the war was getting more brutal and stuff Dropmix would be so against him leaving. Hes so much more vulnerable to stuff like that than they are. I mean… the gas is for the robots so maybe it wouldn’t bother him? Idk, I feel like it would probably have some sort of effect?

“Come back to me, or I'm coming to find you.”

Okay yeah, I can be normal and chill about this. But that is so sweet and tender and ughhhhh… from Dropmix especially??? Stop. He would say that. He will go find the boy.

AND THEN YOU JUST GO AND DROP THE DREAM ON ME. Like it could have been worse but I wasn’t ready. I’m able to live in the imaginary bliss that maybe the twins are just like… busy. Yeah… and then your like “nuh uh, we are going to remember. They are dead.” And I appreciate it but also no thank you.

Buddy has a concussion and is dealing with blood loss and he’s still out there trying to act fine. No sir, you are not. Take another nap. Which he kinda does? So that’s good? Agh, but the poor baby is in pain and this hurts. He’s all on his own and hurt. And then it’s hot? Like burning hot? Buddy is gonna get a sunburn (can he get those actually? Since he’s not metal? Or is it like a crab? Wait… can crabs get sunburns???)

Him having the fun child moment only to get it ruined by a gun being held to his head? Excuse me???? No???? I wasn’t ready for that either???

Is this what it feels like when I leave cliffhangers? I assume it is. I am so sorry. Ugh, I’m going to very patiently wait here. I need to know who. There are so many people it could be. Or it could be someone new. Who knows.

Hahahahhaahhahahhahaha, I don’t.

No pressure tho, take your time. Do what you gotta do. I can wait hehehe. Anyway this concludes my half coherent ramble. I apologize, it’s very messy. But I have so many worms screaming at me and this made it worse (but thank you, I appreciate it)

Canyons

(haha I did a thing, this is part one. Because it was getting long. But yeah this is Custody Au stuff, enjoy. Maybe this isn't just a jumbled mess, if its confusing please let me know-)

@quibble-auk

Tw. War time violence and thinking. That's it I think.

The battle field reeked of blood, ash clung to the air and fires smoldered.

Bodies of numerous shapes and colors dotted the outskirts of the long dead city. In the distance the skeletons of the buildings were drowned in the smoke, a fire in the distance choking and sputtering from the leftover entanglement.

Left to its own devices, that dead collection of the old world stood still.

Cometeater preferred the war like this.

He atop his pile of rubble, plating flared tasting the air, and the battle far from him. His pale green armor was cracked, smoky and burned, he had been the one to start those fires that now drove both Autobots and Decepticons back and farther north. It had been a job full of explosives and a half assed chemical cocktail that sent the very air ablaze.

The pretender had not cared for it, the stench still burned his nose.

Face caked with energon he watched the city burn, and listened. Gunfire in the distance was far, the hum of seekers even farther. Tracing where the front would soon be moving, just as Jazz had asked him to do, he pushed the enemy in the correct direction.

Jazz and his other snakes had the rest covered, more hijinks and warcrimes soon to be committed. Blazing fires off the record, deep seated mines ready to cave at the press of a button striked from ever even happening.

The soldiers who died in it didn’t have names anymore, they weren't even considered dead.

Such a breach of morality is off the books, so those bodies never existed. The fire would consume them, melt them to slag.

Cometeater was never at this battle, and neither were the mechs down the line ready to brutally bomb the moving forces.

Those who escaped the fire were not the pretender’s problem, not technically. He was done, Comet should be leaving the battlefield to the nearest outpost. Hop a transport and officially he would report back to his base after he was summoned. Nothing more nothing less.

Yet he stayed perched, tasting the air with his skin and firecracker pupils twisting and spinning with every re-dilation. The twist of his eyes looked like flaring stars, catching every sight and adjusting to keep his vision clear. A constant mutation of his cells eating themselves and reforming to focus on the tips of the buildings, before scanning the closer outcropping of a fallen transport.

He stayed there, because his blood had sluggishly drained from his head due to a misstep. Clutching his face he had lost his footing on a support in the middle of the city, he had plummeted. The crack of his skull sharp and painful, wrenching his head back.

When the pretender had shakily gotten up, having then been in far more danger being on the ground, he had felt eyes. Heard the hum of a rifle.

Had moved when the seekers flew over and began their barrage on a nearby flux of soldiers, kicking up enough dust and debris Comet had escaped whoever had seen him.

Now his blood had dried and he waited for a scout to follow him.

He knew he had left a stain, he could hope the damp liquid had been masked in the dust. But he could be wrong. Cometeater knew he had continued bleeding for a moment after he had rescaled the building and gotten back to rigging.

Gold blood was an obvious trail when you're used to the bright pink of energon.

Comet knew for a fact that not many would see it and follow, too busy, too uncaring because the yellow could be anything.

It was the ones who knew very intimately what his blood tasted like, finding it, that made Cometeater stay on his perch and wait.

Looking out along the skyline he waited for the large broad shouldered figure of Sunrazor, or her alt mode tearing out through the dust and ash. Perhaps the loud gunning of the huge earth shaking seeker, who had tried to snatch and crush him before. He had taken her eye, she had been cocky, Comet had still broken bones and skin escaping her.

He waited hours, nothing came.

If he was lucky, Sunrazor had followed the front lines with her crew of maniacs. The monster and her lackeys had not been the one to see him, that Sunrazor’s huge form had not towered over him while he laid prone.

An unsettling thought.

His limbs stiff from sitting, head pounding, Cometeater slowly began to climb down. Listening and breathing deeply, before landing on all fours and beginning his travel back towards safety.

He moved quickly, tail flashing behind him as he started a steady stride to the nearest outpost, which was a good twenty miles. Vaulting over a rock the pretender furrowed his brows in thought, his aching head doing him no favors.

Would a base that close to the line still be using transports? That outpost might still be grounded, the operations on hold, iced over until the seekers at least we're not spotted in the air space. Or until the Autobot’s own fliers could provide support.

Which with an operation so far out, that probably wouldn't happen.

Grunting as he stumbled, Cometeater stopped for a moment to listen, heart pounding from exertion he carefully turned his options over. In a mess of cut off dissections of protocols and calculations for casualties Comet found himself frowning, but pushed past the slight haze of his brain.

That outpost might have been evacuated, it was in the direction the seekers had arrived from. Maybe an aid station? Finding one will be hard enough, getting them to let him on an emergency transport off the record would be harder.

He clenched his jaw as his tail flicked, his blue scarf tucked closer around his neck as he looked out behind him. The smoke is still rising.

Wind slowly picking up, Cometeater settled on a firm decision to head, west and then maybe find an aid station. Maybe head homeward, until his superior gave him the go ahead to emerge from hiding. Jazz’s well laid strategy involved Comet not being seen near the fires, so he kept low as he began another slow trot. It would be a tiresome long walk to head all the way to his home outpost if he didn’t find a transport. But it was better than hanging around the front waving his tail around as a flag begging to be sniped.

Aching and tired Comet locked onto a solid speed, and didn’t stop. Careful to keep his plating up and sensing the air, Cometeater ran for hours.

Soon the sun set and the terrain shifted, deep pitted canyons and long angular towers of what had been a smaller city situated along the canyon’s edge and dipping within. Deeper in the canyon were paths for whoever had dwelled there, overhanging buildings crumbling and unstable after being abandoned. Cometeater in the depths of the cold night found a less skeptical overhang on the outskirts of the canyon city and planted himself there for the cold cybertronian night.

He tugged off his scarf and wrapped it around his shoulders and frowned at the singed smell clinging to it. Pressing his angular nose into the blue blanket he searched for a familiar smell, and sighed as he found the scent of Jeopardy. Warming him to his core.

In the seams Dropmix’s icy scent coated Comet’s throat and numbed the pain in his limbs.

Trying his best to sleep, Comet let his mind wander over the last few hours before he had left last. His medics had hugged him, tightly. Both had not been pleased with him leaving, the war somehow had been more brutal as of late.

More desperate attacks, crueler tactics that would be gawked at if anyone survived the mass cybertronian genocide to write history books.

Gassings, burns much like what Comet himself had set. News of malformed mechs with diseases being released, energon that coagulated and burned. To say the least Dropmix’s large dull hand had tenderly cradled Comet's red striped helm, that cold eye alight with a protective furious affection that still made the pretender feel warm in the cold wind.

“Come back to me, or I’m coming to find you.”

Jeopardy had been just as affectionate, holding his smaller friend in his lap, telling him to be careful. Please be careful.

“For me, please Comet.”

That had been a month ago.

The mission had involved a debriefing, Comet learning new tech and protocols. This had not been his only burn, he had done smaller scale tests and resistance training to smoke. All in all it had been harrowing, before he even got out onto the field.

Cometeater gently steered his mind back to warmer thoughts as his eyes closed, hugging his ruined blanket up under his nose and trying to imagine getting home. How good it will be, what his family may be doing when he returns.

Cometeater vaguely heard the thrum of seekers in the distance. As his eyes drifted closed.

He was cradled. Red cherry armor and sunlight gold. Their rough voices hushing him as the seekers flew above, their large clawed hands pressing him to them as another volley of gunfire rained around them. He had sobbed, still new to the war and its noises, the twins themselves were shaking, unused to the new flavor of violence. All three of them curled tighter together as a shell hit.

As Comet jolted awake as the boom echoed in the air, loud and earth shattering, almost shaking him from his perch.

Heart racing he dug his claws deep into the support, the building cracking on its foundation. Without a second thought the pretender began to slowly manoeuvre himself out from his hide, being cautious as he used the other supporting beams to reach the guard rails. Listening he could still hear the thrum of seekers, the whine of the birds.

Deciding he needed to move Cometeater vaulted the rails and began a trot within the canyon's ridge city, his mind whirring and spinning with questions. Why would a seeker be this far south of the front? He had gotten no new updates from Jazz since he completed his part of the burn, the superior having given him an affirmative and a go ahead to leave the scene.

If the seekers wandered this far, this means they are scouting for another move. Or its a rogue unit on a special ops. Both very bad for him.

His plating flared as he slowly moved past the canyon city, jolting as from about mile away, he watched some of the large towers get swallowed by the miles deep crevice.

Watching the skies and hitting a hard stride Cometeater began once more in the vague direction of autobot territory on the edge of the front, or what should be the autobot territory. Unless he had gotten turned around, somehow doubled back and went deeper. That made his feet stutter, almost tripping under the hot sun and pounding in his head.

He stood straight and panted slightly, recounting his direction and the reviewed landmarks. Cometeater could not for the life of him drag the map out of his mind, he had spent a good five minutes memorizing it. The image should be clear as day, but his head throbbed with pain as he tried to recall it.

Had the pretender seen anything about a canyon city? In that briefing what had he been shown? Cometeater took a shaky breath and shook his head sharply, trying to get his thoughts back in order. The chances of him taking the wrong route back through enemy territory was slim, he would have been barraged by now. See something.

That seeker was something.

Comet with hot trembling breathes clenched his fists, he had seen damage in the city. Not new damage, old war wounds. Right? If he had wandered, maybe that seeker had just went too far? He hadn’t gotten a look at it..Maybe his route had been cut off by a skirmish line, or a bubble of Decepticon territory? He was overthinking. Comet was wandering the edge of the front, if he had gone over the border he would have been in a blood storm.

Cometeater’s mind spun and he decided with a hiss that he needed shade to think, that his mind could not take this.

He went half a mile back towards the canyons, he had veered slightly to put distance between the landmark and himself. The canyon would be cooler, less hot than the harsh sun on his back.

Crawling over the edge he could see the bottom now, the canyon had seemingly gotten shallower, and as the miles went on the buildings were non-existent. He silently wondered why a city would not continue to build along the canyon’s walls. Cometeater whimpered as his temple thudded, he should remember this place. He knows he should.

He choked back a scream as the slate like walls crumbled under his claws, the layers giving way and sliding down. Slamming his back feet hard onto the rock wall he launched himself back over the edge, landing with half of his body still hanging, he panted and scrambled pulling himself back to solid ground. The metal seeped rock far more stable under him as he panted and laid covered in sweat.

After a few moments he pushed himself back up and choked back a groan as the headache grew worse. His scarf was burning his neck now, too hot. Comet however couldn’t bear to remove the comforting fabric, his nerves already frazzled and frayed.

Staring at the cliff edge he caught his breath just enough to stand, so that's why the city ended.

Huffing and panting hard he marched forward along the precipice looking for a safer way down, his addled mind growing fuzzy as the heat seemed to grow worse.

For an hour he went, before he found a slight outcropping about twenty feet from the cliff edge. Desperate now to be out of the sun, and too exhausted to head back to the city, which had to be miles behind him now, he took a risk.

His claws did little more than slow his fall as he crashed into the outcropping, he choked on a cry as his back hit the ground hard. Head screaming Cometeater could only whimper and curl into himself, heat making his brain hitch.

It wasn't cooler, he wasn't in the right place yet, it was like an oven down here. Comet snarled angrily as his brain sluggishly tried to keep up. Instinct clicked over, like a cool glass being slipped over a picture to flatten the edges. Claws bleeding Cometeater dragged himself till it wasn't as hot, kept pulling until it was cool.

Slightly tucked in the shade of another outcropping Comet went limp, his mind racing as he heard another hard crash of an engine. Curling inward, Cometeater silently hoped the bit of rock above him was enough to keep him out of sight.

Too tired to see the seeker, or to move, Comet laid in the cool that only grew colder as the sun went about its natural path.

He gave himself the approximation of an hour to rest, watching blurrily as his shadow he hid in, crept forward. Half dozing is how he spent most of it, a half asleep nap that he shuddered from at every breath of wind. When the dark cool blanket had swallowed the designated stone, Comet forced his brain to click back into action.

Grunting and in pain, the pretender slowly stood. Tail snapping to help him balance and eyes scanning the canyon for the first real time.

Something akin to paths traced the the inside of the canyon, under the slight outcroppings of stone. It looked as though some of the slate-like rock had fallen away, leaving its metal under skin peaking out in wedges. Far more stable, as Comet realized looking down at his feet.

If he had fallen on a slate patch he would have dragged it with him. His mind buzzed with paranoia as he surveyed the thin paths, it was dangerous to go along them. If he ran into an enemy, he had nowhere to go.

Not that he was sure he was even going in the right direction anymore. Shoulders slumping and teeth grinding Cometeater tried once more to rattle his brain for the briefing. For landmarks outside the burn he was supposed to use, but none of them rose from the depths. He found even remembering the past few hours was more than difficult.

Silently Comet stared at the layer of metal, it could end and he would have nowhere to go. He glanced up and sighed, no way he could climb back out with the slate being so delicate.

Going in the canyon the way he did had been stupid, no planning, just pure instinct. Most of the time his nerve deep urges were correct, but this time he felt off kilter. Confused was not what he wanted to be while lost on the field.

Contact was still to be kept to a nill. He couldn't call Jazz over airways and beg him for directions.

Brain sluggish and body tired, Comet began to walk the path. Hoping he might run into something that would give him some sort of clue. His head throbbed with every pound of his heart, and he silently mulled as he went.

Turning over thoughts and plans felt slow and cumbersome as he walked carefully on the foot wide metal patches. It wasn't supposed to feel like this, something was wrong with him. Cometeater clenched his jaw as the possibilities ran rampant, but nothing seemed to click into place. It should have, but his brain just slogged through the basic thoughts that everything hurt.

He just wanted to go home, Cometeater let a clawed hand dig into the fabric of his scarf as he inched along the thinner path. Mind not wanting to focus he found himself wondering what his medics were doing. If they missed him.

They should miss him, right?

His body stuttered, an old pain in his chest as he shoved it deep. Now was not the time, Dropmix and Jeopardy wanted him to come back. They said so. He just needed to get back to them, he had to get home.

The heat was easier to ignore in the canyon, Comet had only had to make a few jumps to keep going on the path. So he continued, one foot in front of the other, one hand on his scarf and tail lazily swaying to help him along.

Soon the path grew slightly wider, and Comet felt his hackles raise. They looked less like the natural paths that had snaked under his feet for the past hour, growing thinner and wider in intervals. No, this was more straight edged, regulated.

Cautiously the pretender continued, a new sense of dislike for his situation growing with every moment. The canyon had gotten shallower, but not by much. Not nearly as deep as where the city had been hanging over the edge, but still a fall no one would want to take.

After a few more minutes of walking, he came across the numerous fox holes and caves. Within the wall someone had created places to hide, tunnels that could house mechs, paths for a squad to rest if they needed it.

This was either a very bad sign, or a good one. Pausing slightly, Cometeater stared at the open mouth of one of the caves. A safehouse of sorts probably, meaning there had to be a way to it, and a way out. What use is a safe house if you die getting there? With nowhere to go but forward, Comet continued.

He scented the air and found no new or fresh smells as the paths began to have a slight incline, no one had been here for a while. Decepticon or autobot, not this section at least. The catacombs went on for a bit, Comet slinking on the paths and on high alert as he went. As alert as he could seem to be, his mind still foggy. The prospect of escaping the canyon however had him giddy, it seemed to help smooth the edges of his thoughts.

Grinning, he turned the corner and had to hold in a childish giggle.

Twenty feet ahead was a much thinner path, but it led to a slightly wider mouth and thicker boulders that looked like a landslide into the canyon. Rubble and rocks would hide it well enough from above, probably from the outside too. But from within the canyon, it was an easy ladder to safety.

Bouncing with excitement, exhaustion and pain forgotten Comet took two steps before the ground under his feet groaned. He froze as the should have been stable ground, cracked. Stiffening and letting out a shaky breath, Comet drew himself off of the cracking rock. He had not even noticed the change, the metal behind him now. To his left was a mostly open cave, it was dangerous to go in. An easy way to get killed, but better than falling.

The moment Comet entered the cave the rock began to slip and fall, a good six feet of it. He had no time to stare, or think if he had run for it he would not have made it, no.

He smelt a tinge of cool, and heard the click of a pistol.

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