Wild Bay w/ BendOr Spots
EE/A+a/BENDn
~A+ is not a testable gene,
just used to genetically show
wild bay
~I'm not sure if BendOr Spots
are testable or not, oh well!
-----------------------------------
EE/A+a/BENDn
~A+ is not a testable gene,
just used to genetically show
wild bay
~I'm not sure if BendOr Spots
are testable or not, oh well!
-----------------------------------
Username~ FireWolf52
Registered Name~ EBS Ādanyi
Barn Name~ Ādanyi
(simplified Amharic
[official language of Ethiopia]
version of “savior”)
Height~ 16
Gender~ Mare
Color~ Wild Bay w/ BendOr Spots
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Registered Name~ EBS Ādanyi
Barn Name~ Ādanyi
(simplified Amharic
[official language of Ethiopia]
version of “savior”)
Height~ 16
Gender~ Mare
Color~ Wild Bay w/ BendOr Spots
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Short Story~
It was 1987 when the young boys began arriving from the Northern land. The mare did not know where such small children came from from, or why they arrived in such great numbers. She could see them streaming into tents and campsites as she plowed her field for her master. She pretended not to notice the weak little things, for a moment’s distraction could land her a whip. Her master needed for to work, to work for his family’s food. So she continued waking up before dawn and walking back and forth through the plot of land, treading the dirt in place to her master’s liking. The sun was swelteringly hot, and while normally there would be bugs around to nip at her hide they seemed to all have burnt away in the scorching heat. The young children, still rushing into the camps days after the first had arrived continued to walk down the beaten path and into the Ethiopian campsites. For four years they came, and as they streamed in more talk and rumors followed. The mare overheard things of a war torn Sudan, the homeland of the young boys. They had been separated from their herd by a terrible force of violence. She longed to help them, but everyday her master needed her to work, so she watched as soon the camps filled, and the herdless human-foals suffered, crying out in the night for herdmates that we’re not there.
But in late 1991 that all changed. It was a dry day, not unlike most other days in the village. Her master came out before the sun rose and hooked the heavy harness and plow to her, grumbling words unknown to her. “Better not come here, those filthy people, gonna ruin everything here, gonna ruin my crop with there runnin’ an’ shootin’ up the damn place...”. What strange words, the mare considered what they meant. But before she could think much at all her master yanked her chain and she stepped forward out of her stall shack. But the first shot rang out across the land as soon as she stepped her hoof into the dried out soil. And the boys in the camp screamed.
It was chaos, like the world had crashed down on top of her. Her master had left her, trying to escape the fighting’s path with his family. He had left her to die, the mare realized. She struggled against the plows chained and straps as people screamed and ran all around her. Then she saw them, the predators in black uniforms, and they set fire to the tents of the herdless children, driving them out into the gunfire. They started to drop, wailing out into the smoke filled air. And the mare ran, still binded by the plow, not away from the danger but into it. She had to save the herdless humans, they needed a lead mare to help them escape from the predators. So she ran as fast as she could, kicking the wooden plow off in pieces behind her. With the harness straps whipping theough the air she ran to the boys, most laying crumpled on the ground. The predators were hurting them! She had to save them! She ran around the boys with a focus she had only had out in the field, and weaved in and out of the frantic boys with the precision of a horse who had been trained to make a track perfect. She gathered them into a clump and ran them away from the bullets, most of which narrowly missing her and her new herd. As she ran them towards the southern river she felt a tug, and immediately slid to a stop, startled by the pressure on the harness she had forgotten she’d still had. A young human-foal, small and skinny, had grabbed onto the swinging strap of her harness. He was too weak to run with the rest of the herd, she decided, and as the predators stalked closer to the fleeing boys for a better aim she fell to her knees, allowing the small child to climb onto her back and grab the leather straps of her broken and torn harness. Then she ran, neck stretched and legs together and out, together and out, to the rest of the boys, running with them to the river. They instinctively followed her, for they had no choice and no where to go.
She led them to the roaring current, the predators still chasing them. When they finally reached the banks she again knelt to her knees and the boys, about twenty in her group, all grabbed onto her harness or climbed on her back, seeing how desperate the situation was they entrusted their lives to an animal. And the mare jumped into the swirling river. She kicked hard with her legs, pumping her adrenaline filled body through the water, sensing her young human-foals’ dire need to reach the other side. The predators reached the bank and shot into the water, send bullets whizzing past her furiously kicking legs. She heard screams as more shots rang out, and felt her load get lighter as three boys were hit. But she could not turn back, the river would not allow it. So she moved forward, willing her body to swim to the shore. And she finally made it, with fifteen of her children. And the predators left them to whatever dangers waited for them beyond the river’s border.
— Three Months Later —
She had been walking to seemingly no where with her boys. She didn’t know where she was or where she was going, all she knew is her herd needed her, and she would stay with them on their journey. When the little ones got tired they would ride on her back. One of the older boys, Damian was what the others called him, had cut the leather off her tired body with a sharp stone, freeing her from the chafing. The boys never tied her up, for there was no need. She slept with them around her, walked beside them, and lead them to water she smelled out through the dusty air. She was there’s, and they were her’s. A proper herd, she thought to herself as she laid down, watched over them as they swam around in a small half-dried pond, splashing each other and laughing hoarsely. It had been a long time since they’d laughed, she thought. One of the middle children, Faiz, splashed her. The mare squealed, popping up to an awkward sitting position. She snorted, pinning her ears and jumping into the pond, causing the boys to yell, laughing and splashing each other and her as she stood in the shallow water, shaking her long, matted mane and nickering to herself in amusement as the water droplets flew from her hair, hitting the boys. They swam and splashed and played, and for once it was never horse and owner, it wasn’t a horse and humans, it was just victims of the same war, messing around with each other.
— 6 Months Later —
The group was tired of walking. The mare craved a nice stall-shed like the one she had left behind. They had passed through the desert, now in a grassland of tall tall grass. The mare didn’t like this land. It was alien to her, and there were smells floating through the air that just... weren’t right. They had been walking through it for weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling something was watching the herd. She slept extra close. One night, she was awoken to the sounds of Hafez, the young boy who she had pulled from the ground that fateful day, screaming. She jumped awake, staring face to face with a lioness. The graceful beast had her claws on Ibrahim, another boy in the group,m. The other children ran behind Damian, seeking protection from their elder. But the boy was only 15, and he had no idea how to scare away a full grown lion. The mare stepped in front of her herd, towering above the golden cat. The lion calmly looked up at the mare, and saw the determination in her eyes. The mare squinted at her opponent, sizing her up, noting the large claws and sharp teeth. Ibrahim cried quietly, seemingly ok, at the moment. The mare stepped forward, and the lioness stepped back, off of the withering child. He scrambled to his knees, crawlingly rapidly over to his friends. But the lioness continued to hold her ground, now stalking the bigger prey. She circled the mare, and in turn the mare circled her. The two animals stood off, and as the lioness rocked back in her hind legs ready to pounce Hafez jumped onto the back of the cat, Damian and the other children screamed at him, and he began attacking the lion with a blunt rock. The cat rolled and jumped, but the brave boy held on, smacked the rock at the cat’s gleaming coat. The mare was stunned, and she sprang into action. She jumped into the air and landed in front of the bucking cat, picking her up by the scruff like a kitten. Hafez dropped to the ground, sitting frozen, most likely just as surprised with his actions as everyone else. The mare flung the cat to the ground, and the lioness shrieked, rolled to her feet and limping back into the grass. The mare herded her foals with her, and they pat her as they hurriedly walked/jogged away from the sight.
— Two Months Later —
They had made it. She could tell as the boys, still fifteen in all, whooped with joy. She whinnied, happy that they were excited. They approached the settlement, a camp with more young boys inside. As they reached the gates the peace workers grabbed her by the mane, yanking her away from her herd. “We can’t allow animals. There are sick people in there, I’m sorry.”, the worker said. The boys protested and pushed weakly at the workers trying to take her away. She panicked as she saw the older humans begin to steer her herd into the camp without her. She struggled against the grip of these new predators, ripping out her own mane as she broke free. She raced into the camp, stopping only when she was close to her herd. She pinned her ears and lunges at the workers, a warning to stay away from her family. She supposed the message got across, because she was allowed to stay in the camp with the boys.
— One Year Later —
Hafez, now about nine years old, was sitting out under the stars with the mare laying beside him. He talked to her as he used a comb he was given to work through the knots in her mane and tail. “The people here really are quite nice, they just don’t understand you. They don’t know what we’ve all been through. They don’t understand any of us.”. She nickered and laid her head in his lap. “You know they say maybe I can go to America one day. Wouldn't that be cool? All the way across the world... it’d be nice, but I wouldn’t go, I couldn’t go.” She understood the sadness in his voice and she picked up her head to look into his eyes. He dropped the piece of hair he had been working on untangling and cupped her cheek in one hand and pet her forehead with the other. “I could never leave you, my Ādanyi.”
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