Yeah, I managed to write chapter thirteen quite quickly. This drabble was written for the Senses Challenge at Blue & Black community at Livejournal. This chapter's prompt: Sight. Published on September 14th 2011.
Have fun!
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"Chagall?" Bulma repeated.
Bulma sat up from her makeshift bed of their small campsite, as the sight in front of her was very peculiar. It was still in the middle of the night and the fire had burnt down to embers, yet her eyes were able to perceive the surroundings quite well, because the moon shone brightly upon the camp on this night before full moon. Therefore, Bulma saw that there was nothing out of the ordinary. No intruder, no one threating their lives, everything was just the way it had been before she had fallen asleep. However, her horse pressed himself against the stonewall, distancing himself from the rock she had tied him onto as far as possible, wheezing and nickering as if he was in agony.
She stood up and carefully approached the upset stallion, making soothing noises in order to calm him down, but he shook his neck violently and pressed himself further against the rocks. She halted. It would have been too dangerous for her, if she had continued. Her worries increased. What was going on with Chagall? And why did he keep staring on the rope-
Bulma quirked an eyebrow, when she noticed a movement on the rock. She approached the knot of the rope and bent down. There, crawling on the rock, determined to get on the rope, was a small worm. She carefully caught the small creature between her index and thumb and raised.
"Are you causing all this ruckus," she said flatly and showed Chagall the small worm between her fingers, who reared as a response, "Just because of one tiny, little worm?"