Dame en blanc - Mustang - Fiction - Do Not Post

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

Table Of Contents

Introductory Posts-

♘ Plot Mapping
♞ Characters
♘ Notes
♞ Reference Links
♘ French Terms

The Important Stuff-

♞ Rules
♘ Dates
♞ Author's Note

Chapters-

♘ Currently None

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

Chapter One

♘ Opening with description of Belle's birth
♞ Introduction to the setting
♘ Introduction to the French cheval sauvage
♞ Meeting the sire
♘ Closing (Dramatic cliffhanger?)

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

♘ Belle

Main Character - Buttermilk Buckskin Mare - Undeveloped - First Appearance - Foal & Mare

♞ Beauté

Belle's Dam - Sorrel Mare - Undeveloped - First Appearance - Mare

♘Duc

Belle's Sire - Buckskin Stallion - Undeveloped - First Appearance - Stallion

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

♘ Duc slight build, short, Arabian reference.
♞ Beauté well sprung barrel, rounded quarters, short, smaller Irish Sporthorse reference
♘ Belle stout foal, grows into slight build, slightly more sprung than Arabian reference.

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

♘ Google Translate- English to French
♞ Main Font Generator

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

♘ Titles, Chapter Titles

Dame en blanc - Lady in White

♞ Names

Beauté - Beauty
Duc - Duke

♘ Locations
♞ l'interdit - The Forbidden - Human farms and cities

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

♘ WIP

*Just please don't post!

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

♘ WIP

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

♘ WIP

[Msshardy]

Lady in White - Mustang - First Person - Fiction

It is instinct for a mare to give birth when the moon is swollen in the sky, her vulnerable body cloaked in darkness. The late April breeze was cool that night, the damp smell of rain lingering from the day before. The air across my wet coat was near painful, but my dam's warm tongue lapping across my body was comforting.

The horizon was beginning to brighten as my dame pushed me to my feet for the first time. I was clean and drying, albeit was still rather cold. The ground was wet and dewy, my small, circular hooves slid out from under me, grass rushing up to meet me before I fully grasped what was happening. My dam folded her ears, unsympathetic as I struggled to find my hooves once again. I finally made it, on my own, and looked back at her. She did not look proud, but was not displeased. Instinctively I reached out to nurse. She jolted when my cold nose touched her underbelly, but quickly calmed, licking my side for encouragement.

After my fill was had, my dam nudged me on, walking towards a destination unknown to me. Once we left our cluster of trees, the French countryside opened up before me. Rolling green hills became what my dam said was l'interdit, or The forbidden, full of tantalizing crops but full of a dangerous beast called the two leg. She explained just beyond that, out of site for us horse folk, were beast herd lands. Horses that ventured there did not return.

The herd came into sight.

The French cheval sauvage, or French wild horse, is not necessarily a mustang. We are not Camargues, small white horses native to southern france, though many of us have the hardy breed in our bloodlines. There is no real definition for a cheval sauvage, our ancestors lived among the two legged beasts as slaves for hundreds of years before they began to slip away into the wilderness, escaping the cruelty of the harsh creatures. Here, in the country-side we are hidden, feral, wild, surviving off the land.

I studied these horses intently. There were two other mares besides my dam, and my sire. My sire's coat shown gold, a thick black mass of mane well down his neck. I looked like a washed out version, pale and almost ghostly in comparison. He had a slight build, but the way he danced on his hooves suggested speed and agility to make up for his lack of brawn. He was short, as my dam was, but seemed to have a dominant presence that made him seem much larger than he was.

His dark eyes watched me with scrutiny. He greeted my dam, running his blunt yellow teeth against the crest of her neck where red coat met red mane. Then it was my turn. I lowered my head, clacking my teeth in fear. I was a baby, he couldn't hurt me, could he? His callous stare made me doubt it. Hot breath blew over me, his velvet muzzle bumped my withers. I held my ground, eyeing him wearily. He snorted, as if in acceptance, then turned away. I was unimportant.

The two mares, one nearly white, the other so dark that without her brown underbelly I would have thought her black, greeted me. The darker mare eyed me with the same scrutiny as my sire, but whereas he showed indifference after my inspection, she showed distaste. The fleabitten one, however, lipped at my mane before my dam pinned her ears at her and sent her away. I was sad. And rather bored.

As the sun went down on my first day of life, a light twinkled out in the distance, past l'interdit, and I watched it flicker as I fell asleep.