A strong summer wind blows eastward toward the sun as I lower my head to take in a mouthful of delicious West Necluda grass. It's been days since the last rainfall, and the sun is high in the sky from early morning to late evening. Therefore, the grass is crisped to perfection. It flakes in my mouth most delightfully. West Necluda grass has always been my favorite. Every satisfying bite is dashed with a hint of salt, rained down from the Dueling Peaks Mountains by the ever-present wind. I stamp a hoof to thank the ground for its bounty. A cloud of dirt rises from underneath my hoof, a sign that the surface is growing quite dry.
The roars of the Twin Rivers fill the air, rivaling the billowing wind. I've eaten my fill of sun-kissed grass and even found a late-blooming dandelion. Its flowery sweetness was the perfect finisher to my meal, and now I need a drink. I slowly wade through the flowing grass and I am tempted to take a few more bites. Alas, the terrain beneath my hooves turns from dry earth to the slick pebbles of the river's shore. My ears flick as the crunch of my hooves sinking into the pebbles dances in them.
The water is cool and refreshing. The lower muscles of my forelegs twitch as the river washes over them, wetting my warm, blue fur. Dipping my white snout in, I slurp up several deliciously cold mouthfuls of water. A shiver runs down my spine as it cools me down. Before I can raise my head, I feel a ripple run over the surface of the river. I notice it, but pay it no mind as I continue to replenish myself with the delicious water. Then, the pebbles surrounding my hooves begin to move. I stop my drinking to pay attention to these strange happenings. Then a low rumble rattles in my chest as the earth itself begins to shake. Lifting my head from the water, I see the birds and woodland creatures scurrying away as rocks tumble down the nearby mountainsides. A squirrel rushes up a tree and covers her younglings with her bushy tail while she shakes in fear. The mountain goats scramble to reach a flatter surface, bleating loudly in confusion. I think I even hear a nasty Bokoblin screaming in the distance.
Shaking my mane. I turn on my hind legs and race into the field. The quaking is growing stronger and angrier with every step. Reaching the center of the field, I am joined by some of my herd. I can see the sense of panic in their eyes.
"What's happening?" asks one of the young fillies. She is speckled with shades of clean white and bronze.
"Stay close," orders the black sire. His voice is calm yet stern.
"You don't think…" the all-brown mare asks the sire.
"I'm not sure," he replies.
I ready myself to inquire what it is they are speaking of, when suddenly the shrieks of the nearby Hylians steal my focus. A few of them are running this way and that, stumbling over themselves and each other, which seemed easy enough to do considering they walk on just the two little legs. Then my gaze is drawn by a terrible sight. The horse's head made of wood that sat proudly atop the Hylian's tent capsizes and falls to the ground before my very eyes with an awful crash. The horses in their pasture and stables are particularly bothered by this, and they begin to run around in their pen, whinnying wildly. Even the cuccos are flapping their wings in a panicked frenzy.
Just when it seems every beast and being is going to go mad with fright, the quaking ceases and the earth finally comes to rest. All falls eerily silent, save for the rivers and the wind which carry on as normal. No one speaks. We just take turns exchanging glances, waiting for our hearts and nerves to calm down.
"As you were," the sire finally states.
My fellow horses slowly walk off, putting their heads down to graze as if nothing had happened. Something about the sire's command strikes me. Yes, he is usually the calm, cool, and collected leader we look up to, yet I cannot help but to think that he knows something. And the way the mare asked her question earlier. Does the sire know what caused the earthquake? I try to put the question out of my mind, to no avail. Perhaps another bite of grass will do the trick. Just as I'm dipping my head down, mouth watering at the thought of another bite of crispy, salty goodness, my attention is drawn to the sky. A flock of birds is flying over the Dueling Peaks. Seeing that they are descending upon West Necluda, I hurriedly trot further into the field, hoping to meet one of them. To my dismay, most fly on. However, one mountain crow lights on a small tree nearby. She is alerted by the sound of my mighty hooves approaching her.
"Pardon me, Madame Crow," I say cautiously, trying to remember my manners.
"Yes, Sir Horse?" she replies.
"You flew in from the west, yes?" I question. "Pray tell, did you see anything unusual?"
"Besides the entire world being tossed around in the quake?"
I can tell she's a feisty one.
"Yes, actually," she says finally.
She goes on to describe large pieces of earth rising from the ground. I ask her how large, and to my amazement, she says they were larger than any tree she has ever seen, which is saying a lot coming from a bird. Heart racing with excitement, I ask her to describe the sights to me.
"The tops of them were pointed," she says, "almost like the hats some of the northern village people wear."
I have not seen any people from the village in some time, though I can vaguely recall their attire.
"Their trunks… well, I'm not certain they were trunks, but that's the best I can do for the moment… looked like the fishing nets the Hylians use. I could see right through them!"
"And they didn't fall over?" I ask.
"Fall over? No, Sir Horse, they looked just as sturdy as the Hylian's castles."
"How many were there?"
"Two, as far as I could tell," she answers, though she does not appear certain. "One came forth from the Great Plateau as if to look over the entire land of Hyrule. The other was just on the other side of the Dueling Peaks and came out of the river." Her dark eyes grow wide. "The one on the Plateau, it was lit up with a gorgeous blue light, like a beautiful, cloudless sky. The nearer one reminded me of the setting sun, glowing orange as if by flame."
"This all sounds so magnificent," I exclaim.
"Just you wait, my friend," she says excitedly, flapping her wings at me, "there's more. The large, black rocks… they're glowing."
The land is covered in these rocks. The strangest thing about them is that they are all identical. Occasionally, a Hylian or a villager from the north will be seen studying one, though they never seem to get anywhere.
"Glowing?" I repeat.
"Yes. At least all of the ones we saw were. My flock and I are flying out to see how many of these new things there are, and how many of the glowing black rocks we can find."
"If you learn anything new, will you come back and tell me?" I plead.
"Certainly, Sir Horse," she says with a small bow.
She then flies away to rejoin her flock. I walk through the field until I am in view of the waterfall just beyond the stable, where the Hylians are picking up the pieces of their toppled horse's head. With my own eyes, I see it: The black rock that rests near the base of the falls is now glowing with a fierce orange light. The misting of the waterfall makes it look all the more wondrous. What could it all mean? At this point, I cannot decide if my heart is still racing from the earthquake, or from learning of all of these strange and exciting events. Either way, I feel deep down that something big is happening, and I hope it's good.
