Little Boy Of The Mountain O
--O--
He could not take his eyes from the tip of the serpents' blunt nose and it's own deep-welling orbs that held him in their gaze.
This was no snake, surely.
This was The Great River Worm from the tales!. What else could it be?
As the serpent stared at him his mind wandered. His eyes started watering, and he had strange flashing visions of unknown places and bright forms. Time seemed to have stopped, or was passing them by like a river. He felt that all the leaves of the trees of the glade were vibrating.
Suddenly there was a loud ringing in his ears. Still he could not move.
His sight went suddenly dark, and he took a gasping breathe. But still he heard the chirping of birds, the rustle of the leaves, and the gentle but deep-hissed breathing of the huge wyrm. He felt as if he was spinning in place like a top, just barely maintaining his balance. His ears felt like they were stuffed with wax. Then he was falling. Falling as though down great rapids in the darkness. He came to rest with his head in the lap of someone he knew, but could not see. He had swooned and his friend was trying to rouse him. There was a sudden knocking or popping noise. His ears had cleared, but the boy could no longer hear the world around him. He felt at first like he had melted or folded, as if he was bent backwards impossibly, and that his heels might be touching his head. Then he began to feel a rising tension of peril at his obvious helplessness, which turned into a fluttering panic. His heart pulsed rapidly like that of a bird and his uncontrolled and ragged breathing filled his thought and became all-pervading. A great iris opened, that he could not see but that he knew was there... and he was falling again. There was a great blast of stormwinds that rushed madly but then subsided as quickly as they had began.