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The king is gone.\n\nI'd kicked off shorts and sandals and struggled through the quicksand towards Kehno's sinking head. I was yards away still when he lifted his proud muzzle one last time, gave his last terrible roar, and slipped from my sight. And now I am at the spot, floundering like an ant in jam, groping downwards hoping to grasp an ear, a handful of mane, something to pull him up with – but there's nothing. He's sunk beyond reach, lost to the earth. And in truth, how could I ever have hoped to rescue him? I have no rope, no floater, no magic carpet or jetpack, just the limited strength of my own small body.\n\nWeary with defeat and loss I peer back at the pit's bank, and know I will never step there. Desperation to save Kehno gave me the strength to reach this spot; now the strength is gone with him. If I struggle back now I might make it a quarter of the way. I have thrown away my life on a rescue-attempt I should have known was hopeless; Kehno would not have approved such a pointless death on his behalf. Yet I cannot bring myself to regret my attempt, foolish as it was. And in truth this seems a better end than the fox or cat jaws I always expected would close my story.\n\nI lift myself erect, stand in the mire with head high, arms at sides, hold myself with as much dignity as my soaked body can muster, look west into the golden after-sunset light. Somewhere a bird or beast is calling, long whines that end in a hoot; the only other sounds are the quiet glurping of the mire around me and the beat of my tense heart. The sand takes me slowly, oozes up round my thighs, swallows my hips, my hands. It comes round my waist and for a moment I feel myself halfway between worlds, held between the air and fading light above and the cool deep below. Then the deep presses its claim, takes my elbows, my chest; the quicksand rucks up my shirt, thrills and startles me as it flows sensually over my furless nipples. I picture myself as seen from above: head and shoulders of a nervous mouse, bespectacled eyes, twitching whiskers, ears turning to catch the last of the world's sounds; and all around, the gray featureless quicksand. I picture the light of tomorrow morning falling on the sand, on a surface smooth and unbroken as if never disturbed.\n\nThe sand closes over my shoulders, comes round my neck. Now my chin is resting on it, my head is an island in a still sea. Light fading quickly now, and the far bank seen dimly in the gloaming might be the shore of a continent. I sense the hugeness of the earth, my smallness and transience. And now my head is going down and I let it tilt upwards like a sinking ship, the sand swallowing my cheeks and pushing up my muzzle. This is it; I am slipping under and away, feeling the sand swallow my ears, seeing it in the very last of the light rising up round my head like a dark wave, and in the seconds before it flows in and over my eyes I get a glimpse of one bright star. The cool sand holds me, my straining muzzle-tip the last bit of me in the air above. I take my last breath, whisper on impulse one word: Farewell. And the sand closes over my lips and nose like a cool kiss and I am gone. I let my last breath go, surrender to drowning and the deep and the great earth, and feel Kehno's warm spirit rising up to greet a foolish mouse's soul.”\n\n(Brave little mousie.. his and Kehnos souls will be safe in the quicksand gods hand)", "description_bbcode_parsed": "drew this as a continuance to the pictures of Kehno sinking down ...

TimTylor wrote a story according to it ^^

“Too late. The king is gone.

I'd kicked off shorts and sandals and struggled through the quicksand towards Kehno's sinking head. I was yards away still when he lifted his proud muzzle one last time, gave his last terrible roar, and slipped from my sight. And now I am at the spot, floundering like an ant in jam, groping downwards hoping to grasp an ear, a handful of mane, something to pull him up with – but there's nothing. He's sunk beyond reach, lost to the earth. And in truth, how could I ever have hoped to rescue him? I have no rope, no floater, no magic carpet or jetpack, just the limited strength of my own small body.

Weary with defeat and loss I peer back at the pit's bank, and know I will never step there. Desperation to save Kehno gave me the strength to reach this spot; now the strength is gone with him. If I struggle back now I might make it a quarter of the way. I have thrown away my life on a rescue-attempt I should have known was hopeless; Kehno would not have approved such a pointless death on his behalf. Yet I cannot bring myself to regret my attempt, foolish as it was. And in truth this seems a better end than the fox or cat jaws I always expected would close my story.

I lift myself erect, stand in the mire with head high, arms at sides, hold myself with as much dignity as my soaked body can muster, look west into the golden after-sunset light. Somewhere a bird or beast is calling, long whines that end in a hoot; the only other sounds are the quiet glurping of the mire around me and the beat of my tense heart. The sand takes me slowly, oozes up round my thighs, swallows my hips, my hands. It comes round my waist and for a moment I feel myself halfway between worlds, held between the air and fading light above and the cool deep below. Then the deep presses its claim, takes my elbows, my chest; the quicksand rucks up my shirt, thrills and startles me as it flows sensually over my furless nipples. I picture myself as seen from above: head and shoulders of a nervous mouse, bespectacled eyes, twitching whiskers, ears turning to catch the last of the world's sounds; and all around, the gray featureless quicksand. I picture the light of tomorrow morning falling on the sand, on a surface smooth and unbroken as if never disturbed.

The sand closes over my shoulders, comes round my neck. Now my chin is resting on it, my head is an island in a still sea. Light fading quickly now, and the far bank seen dimly in the gloaming might be the shore of a continent. I sense the hugeness of the earth, my smallness and transience. And now my head is going down and I let it tilt upwards like a sinking ship, the sand swallowing my cheeks and pushing up my muzzle. This is it; I am slipping under and away, feeling the sand swallow my ears, seeing it in the very last of the light rising up round my head like a dark wave, and in the seconds before it flows in and over my eyes I get a glimpse of one bright star. The cool sand holds me, my straining muzzle-tip the last bit of me in the air above. I take my last breath, whisper on impulse one word: Farewell. And the sand closes over my lips and nose like a cool kiss and I am gone. I let my last breath go, surrender to drowning and the deep and the great earth, and feel Kehno's warm spirit rising up to greet a foolish mouse's soul.”

(Brave little mousie.. his and Kehnos souls will be safe in the quicksand gods hand)", "writing": "", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "", "pools_count": 0, "title": "A brave mouse", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/jpeg", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "1", "type_name": "Picture/Pinup", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "9", "views": "612" }