by dilly » Sat May 04, 2019 2:38 pm
โ โฌโฌโฌโฌโฌโฌ ๏ดพ ๐๐๐ก ๏ดฟ
lone mare | 7 | AQH | heat ; 2 | tags ; phantom
How could this place be real? It was so empty โ the chestnut mare was struggling to take in the view before her, mainly because there was nothing to see. No other horses, no cows, no humans swaggering about; there were trees and there was a huge sweep of empty grass, but there was really nothing here. The air was silent, the sky was far too big, and the mare had broken into a sweat hours ago, when it had become so plainly clear that she was alone. That had been quite the horrifying realization, as Kip had always depended on warm bodies milling around her. Other mares, for the most part, but humans, too: when she was securely under saddle and holding the chunky bit in her mouth, she felt snugly in place. This did not mean, of course, that her mind was at ease, but at least she could trust that her body was safely under someoneโs supervision. But out here, in this gripping silence? The breeze skittered along her spine and sent her tail ruffling over her hocks, and without a thought the panicky mare was bolting forward, her heart spinning off its rails in her chest. It returned, eventually, as it always did, and the mareโs head was instantly upright on a stiff nick, nostrils splayed wide. Before she could reassure herself fully, a strange scent whipped around her, and her eyes searched wildly for the reason why. Another horse, that much was clear; rolling back on her heel, her cowhorse heritage showing itself, the sweat-matted mare swung her head around, front legs braced, frightened eyes landing on a grey ghostly shape. He was real, though, the only real figure sheโd encountered out here, and for a moment it was all she could do to hold herself in place, the muscles of her forelegs jumping with the urge to bolt. A more urgent sensation tugged at her conflicted heart, however: the urge to not be alone. Nostrils flared, Kip looked the stranger up and down quickly, prepared to leap away if necessary, but desperately hoping it would not come to that. A hopeful nicker trembled from her own muzzle, though she did not yet make to move from where she stood, instead asking a quick, frantic question. โAre you lost here, too?โ
โ โฌโฌโฌโฌโฌโฌ ๏ดพ โ๐๐ซ๐๐ + ๐ป๐๐๐๐ช ๏ดฟ
lone mare & colt | 10 & 4 weeks | lusitano | tags ; open!
The sturdy mare did not spare a thought for what had happened or what was to come: there was only now. With her ears tipped back and her head low, she did not hesitate in making her way forward, cutting through the grass with long, zebra-barred legs. Her foal minded her nicely for the time being, keeping to her flank as they pushed ahead, and the mare made a mental note of relevant landmarks as they passed. Gnarled trees, bare patches of land, hints of water; these might all be necessary later. She was not shocked to find herself out in such an open tract of land โ sheโd spent the better part of her life in pastures โ although she did wonder where the other horses were. Pastures were always full of other horses, and Hazel preferred to establish herself in whatever party of hens was out here, before anything else. There would be other foals to meet, too, if this was in fact a pasture of broodmares, and her ears ticked up as she listened for any indication of strangers. She was not one to question the whims of humans; they things they did, like the things they said, made little sense to her. She would, as always, have to make her own way, and she turned her head to whicker gently at her foal as he began to wander off, drawn after the buzzing arc of some hopping insect. The colt returned good-naturedly, too distracted by the newness of the place to consider any unruly antics. Hazel knew better, of course, though she was glad for the foalโs attentiveness for the time being. He would be bounding away as soon as he felt secure enough to do so, and the mare slowed to a stop, head lifting and ears perking as she sampled the breeze, dark nostrils flaring as the wind strung through her gold-frosted mane.
โ โฌโฌโฌโฌโฌโฌ ๏ดพ โ๐๐๐๐ ๏ดฟ
stallion | 20 | andalusian cross | tags ; open!
The old stud was heartbroken. Luckily for the big lad, however, this emotion lent him a surly energy, and he gave vent to it as best he could, loping heavily across the quiet plain. He wasnโt particularly robust, in fact retaining a fairly athletic build, but his mood was heavy, and he could feel it weighing him down, all the way to his black hooves. Left here, abandoned, all of his good work forgotten โ he knew this was the truth of the matter. He was too old, and there were plenty of younger horses who were quicker, who could get the job done more efficiently. But wasnโt he still quick, able to cover as much ground as any undisciplined young rascal? And wasnโt he wiser, years of experience molding just the sort of demeanor that his humans had always praised for him? Good, trustworthy Reece โ and for what? To be dumped out here, to waste his remaining days alone? He could not pretend to understand, but he also could not stand and blink in confusion any longer. He must first reveal the truth of the matter: was he truly alone out here? It wouldnโt make sense. Plus, there were muddled scents scattered in the grass and wisping through the breeze. Surely there was another out here, and with how his heart ached, the stallion would settle for a bit of company, if nothing else; there had always been a friend there before, and if his human partner had truly discarded him, he would simply have to find someone else. A disgruntled snort blew from his graying muzzle, and as he thundered ahead, he forced his anxious brain away from thoughts of broken trust.
