πΎπ¦ππ£ππππ jesdar16
πΉππ£π₯π βπππ Haitzuloan (meaning "In the cave" in Basque)
βπππππππ Zulo (shortened version of the birth name)
πΈππ 10 years
βπππ₯ππ£ & βπππ£π π»ππ€πππ Black with faded white sides for the halter
(like a gradient, the top, bridge of the nose and down below the chin) and eye
color pearls
βππ£π€π πππππ₯πͺ
Zulo was shy as a foal and never really grew out of it. He was modest and kind, he always knew when to back off or step down and was sensitive to the way others felt. It was almost like he could sense when they were uncomfortable or upset. Zulo was self-conscious as a colt and became even more self conscious as he grew older and was always trying to find a way to improve himself, constantly convinced that something was wrong with him. He was never particularly good at anything except finding a way to make a fool of himself. He was quite clumsy. But he was kind. That was his most admirable attribute. He could never really find something 'bad' in anyone, even if they committed a murder or a crime. He was always forgiving and open-hearted. He had a soft spot for animals as well, and most of the time they are his closest friends.
πΉππ£π₯ππ‘ππππ
These caves stretch for many miles, some tunnels going down below the surface and others reaching the highest peak of the jungle mountain. One tunnel travels all the way through the jungle and out to the jungle beach, where Zulo sometimes goes to relax.
The caves have been dubbed the "Silent Caverns" because no human has ever heard a sound when they were inside. They would swear it's haunted, but all they've seen is the shadow of the young stallion, hidden away in the deepest crevices of the rocks.
πΉππ£π₯π βπππ βππ€π₯π π£πͺ
It was a silent night when the little grullo colt entered the world. His mother was up and moving almost immediately and she was gently urging her son to his hooves. She had never seen anything like it. Like most of the horses who had ever resided in the Silent Caverns, her coat was a dark black color with dark eyes that helped keep her hidden from any predators that might be lurking. It was nearly impossible to see her because any trickle of light in the birthing tunnel was from a puny crack in the roof. The mare's dark eyes flickered over the shivering foal's body. He was a brown color, with a darker face, and she could see the glow of white markings across his legs, back, face and neck. Bright multi-shaded green eyes blinked up at her. He stood out. A lot. Deciding to brush off her son's unlikely coloring, she nudged him again.
"Come on my dear, you must get up. The nursing tunnel is not far away." The mare helped nudge her foal to his hooves and soon he was shakily walking out of the birthing tunnel and into one of the main caverns. The mare turned sharply down another dead end corridor, this one lined with soft leaves collected from the jungle. A large quantity of jungle grasses and leaves were piled in the corner. At the end of the corridor stood another horse, a black stallion, the same dark shade as the mare. As the mare and her foal approached, the stallion dropped his head and sniffed at the colt. Green eyes blinked in bewilderment at him and he skittered behind his mother.
"Don't be afraid love, he will not hurt you. He is your father." Hesitantly the colt approached and delicately touched noses with the stallion. The stallion greeted the mare and she rubbed her muzzle along her mate's. They spoke a few quick words and he was out of the corridor.
The mare interrupted her son's nursing the next day.
"Your father and I have decided on a name for you." She said, turning to face her son. Her mate trotted down the tunnel a moment later and stood beside her. "You're one of the few foals ever born inside the caves. Most mares have had their foals outside in the sunlight. But we decided it was safer for you to be born here. In the cave. Haitzuloan." The mare told him that it meant "in the cave" in an ancient language. So Haitzuloan grew up with that name, but by the time he was a yearling, he had decided that even his name was too big for him. So he shortened it to "Zulo". Occasionally when he was in trouble his parents would call him by his full name and say "Haitzuloan, you get over here this instant!" but they usually referred to him by his nickname.
ππ π€π₯ βπ£ππ«ππ βπ π€π€ππ€π€ππ π
It was a stormy day. The caves themselves were still but the trio could hear the muffled sound of the rain pattering the top of the mountain and thunder crashed, shaking the whole cavern system. During storms the trio hid themselves as far from the entrance tunnels as they could, huddling together in the most central cave, the intersection. It was large and open, and ledges lined the walls. Cracks led nowhere and dark passages drifted off away from the intersection. Zulo was two years old now. His mother quietly nibbled on the base of his mane while his father paced around, ears alert. Storms were dangerous. They caused cave-ins. Zulo had never experienced a cave-in. His mother said that she and her mate had once, running from falling rocks and the whole ground was shaking. She said she never wanted to experience it again.
"Momma.. are we gonna have a cave in?" Zulo asked in a shaky voice. He felt his mother cease grooming and lift her head.
"I hope not, Zulo. We can't afford a cave-in now." Zulo took a few steps from his mother's side and was watching his father pace around. He stiffened.
"We must move." He said sharply. He spoke a few quick words to his mate and she was up and alert, her ears swiveling. "Come,
Zulo."
Zulo blindly ran after his parents as they trotted quickly through the tunnels. They refused to answer any of his questions.
"Come on Momma, why are we running?"
"Where are we going, Papa?"
The ground gradually dampened as water rolled silently into the main cave.
"We must hurry!" The mare whinnied, cantering down a side tunnel Zulo had never been in before. Zulo knew nearly every cave like the back of his hoof and he could navigate them easily in the dark, but he had not seen this tunnel before. The tunnel was long and winding, and as they galloped down into it the water followed in a rush. It was catching up. Zulo's father dropped back and gave him a nudge on his rump.
"Faster!" He urged, pushing his son forward. Out of the corner of his eye something glittered in another side passage. He almost missed it but Zulo skidded to a halt and ran back. He found the corridor again just as his father stamped in irritation and fear.
"No time for exploring Zulo, we must hurry! The flood is upon us!" Water began to seep around his hooves and he heard a roar.
Snatching the shiny thing in his teeth, Zulo splashed back to his father and galloped after his mother. With a roar the water broke free, rushing through the cave and filling it up completely to the top. The giant wave drew closer and closer and just before it hit they galloped out into the rainy night, as far from the entrance as they could.
"Zulo! Oh my, you're alright!" His mother circled him and sniffed him anxiously. He could hear her heart pounding.
"Haitzuloan! What a completely irresponsible, dangerous and deadly thing to do!" His father scolded him, his eyes wide with fear.
"We could have lost you!"
Zulo dropped his eyes and ducked his head. But he got what he had came for. His parents noticed the object in his mouth. Finding a dry rock underneath a tree branch, he placed it down. It was a delicate green feather, about the size of his ear, adorned in an emerald jewel at the base. The emerald is what had gleamed at him as he rushed by.
"Zulo.." His mother whispered. "It can't be."
"What, Momma, what?" Zulo replied, scared that he was in trouble again.
"This.. this feather.. this feather belonged to my great grandmother." She whispered. "It was the symbol of our herd. The Emerald Herd." The mare delicately sniffed the sodden feather. "You have found a valuable artifact. This is an item from our past, our ancestors."
"What do you mean?"
"Come here, let me tell you. Long, long ago, our caverns were filled with horses. My great grandmother, your great great grandmother, was apart of that herd. She was high ranking, the lead mare, and she always wore this feather with the emerald on it in her mane, at the top of her neck and behind her ear. It meant that she was the leader, the founder. This feather was supposed to be passed down through her descendants. But it was lost." Her head drooped. "In a flood that took our caverns, just like this one.
It was washed away, we thought it was taken out to sea. We scoured every tunnel looking for it but we could not find it. Every tunnel, but that one." She pressed her head against her son's.
"You have found the symbol of our ancestors. The Emerald Herd is no more, soon we fell prey to humans who tamed us with their strange ways. Me, you, and your father are the only remaining wild members of the Emerald Herd. This is the key to our past."
Zulo took in this story with great interest. This was who he was.
From that day on, Zulo wore that feather in the same spot his great great grandmother did: on the top of his neck on his mane,
behind the ears. It took many a moon for the caves to dry again but when they did, the Emerald Herd returned home for the first time. The herd has been reborn now that the ancestral symbol has been found, thanks to Zulo.
jesdar16 wrote:πΎπ¦ππ£ππππ jesdar16
πΉππ£π₯π βπππ Haitzuloan (meaning "In the cave" in Basque)
βπππππππ Zulo (shortened version of the birth name)
πΈππ 10 years
βπππ₯ππ£ & βπππ£π π»ππ€πππ Black with faded white sides for the halter
(like a gradient, the top, bridge of the nose and down below the chin) and eye
color pearlsβππ£π€π πππππ₯πͺ
Zulo was shy as a foal and never really grew out of it. He was modest and kind, he always knew when to back off or step down and was sensitive to the way others felt. It was almost like he could sense when they were uncomfortable or upset. Zulo was self-conscious as a colt and became even more self conscious as he grew older and was always trying to find a way to improve himself, constantly convinced that something was wrong with him. He was never particularly good at anything except finding a way to make a fool of himself. He was quite clumsy. But he was kind. That was his most admirable attribute. He could never really find something 'bad' in anyone, even if they committed a murder or a crime. He was always forgiving and open-hearted. He had a soft spot for animals as well, and most of the time they are his closest friends.πΉππ£π₯ππ‘ππππ
These caves stretch for many miles, some tunnels going down below the surface and others reaching the highest peak of the jungle mountain. One tunnel travels all the way through the jungle and out to the jungle beach, where Zulo sometimes goes to relax.
The caves have been dubbed the "Silent Caverns" because no human has ever heard a sound when they were inside. They would swear it's haunted, but all they've seen is the shadow of the young stallion, hidden away in the deepest crevices of the rocks.πΉππ£π₯π βπππ βππ€π₯π π£πͺ
It was a silent night when the little grullo colt entered the world. His mother was up and moving almost immediately and she was gently urging her son to his hooves. She had never seen anything like it. Like most of the horses who had ever resided in the Silent Caverns, her coat was a dark black color with dark eyes that helped keep her hidden from any predators that might be lurking. It was nearly impossible to see her because any trickle of light in the birthing tunnel was from a puny crack in the roof. The mare's dark eyes flickered over the shivering foal's body. He was a brown color, with a darker face, and she could see the glow of white markings across his legs, back, face and neck. Bright multi-shaded green eyes blinked up at her. He stood out. A lot. Deciding to brush off her son's unlikely coloring, she nudged him again.
"Come on my dear, you must get up. The nursing tunnel is not far away." The mare helped nudge her foal to his hooves and soon he was shakily walking out of the birthing tunnel and into one of the main caverns. The mare turned sharply down another dead end corridor, this one lined with soft leaves collected from the jungle. A large quantity of jungle grasses and leaves were piled in the corner. At the end of the corridor stood another horse, a black stallion, the same dark shade as the mare. As the mare and her foal approached, the stallion dropped his head and sniffed at the colt. Green eyes blinked in bewilderment at him and he skittered behind his mother.
"Don't be afraid love, he will not hurt you. He is your father." Hesitantly the colt approached and delicately touched noses with the stallion. The stallion greeted the mare and she rubbed her muzzle along her mate's. They spoke a few quick words and he was out of the corridor.
The mare interrupted her son's nursing the next day.
"Your father and I have decided on a name for you." She said, turning to face her son. Her mate trotted down the tunnel a moment later and stood beside her. "You're one of the few foals ever born inside the caves. Most mares have had their foals outside in the sunlight. But we decided it was safer for you to be born here. In the cave. Haitzuloan." The mare told him that it meant "in the cave" in an ancient language. So Haitzuloan grew up with that name, but by the time he was a yearling, he had decided that even his name was too big for him. So he shortened it to "Zulo". Occasionally when he was in trouble his parents would call him by his full name and say "Haitzuloan, you get over here this instant!" but they usually referred to him by his nickname.ππ π€π₯ βπ£ππ«ππ βπ π€π€ππ€π€ππ π
It was a stormy day. The caves themselves were still but the trio could hear the muffled sound of the rain pattering the top of the mountain and thunder crashed, shaking the whole cavern system. During storms the trio hid themselves as far from the entrance tunnels as they could, huddling together in the most central cave, the intersection. It was large and open, and ledges lined the walls. Cracks led nowhere and dark passages drifted off away from the intersection. Zulo was two years old now. His mother quietly nibbled on the base of his mane while his father paced around, ears alert. Storms were dangerous. They caused cave-ins. Zulo had never experienced a cave-in. His mother said that she and her mate had once, running from falling rocks and the whole ground was shaking. She said she never wanted to experience it again.
"Momma.. are we gonna have a cave in?" Zulo asked in a shaky voice. He felt his mother cease grooming and lift her head.
"I hope not, Zulo. We can't afford a cave-in now." Zulo took a few steps from his mother's side and was watching his father pace around. He stiffened.
"We must move." He said sharply. He spoke a few quick words to his mate and she was up and alert, her ears swiveling. "Come,
Zulo."
Zulo blindly ran after his parents as they trotted quickly through the tunnels. They refused to answer any of his questions.
"Come on Momma, why are we running?"
"Where are we going, Papa?"
The ground gradually dampened as water rolled silently into the main cave.
"We must hurry!" The mare whinnied, cantering down a side tunnel Zulo had never been in before. Zulo knew nearly every cave like the back of his hoof and he could navigate them easily in the dark, but he had not seen this tunnel before. The tunnel was long and winding, and as they galloped down into it the water followed in a rush. It was catching up. Zulo's father dropped back and gave him a nudge on his rump.
"Faster!" He urged, pushing his son forward. Out of the corner of his eye something glittered in another side passage. He almost missed it but Zulo skidded to a halt and ran back. He found the corridor again just as his father stamped in irritation and fear.
"No time for exploring Zulo, we must hurry! The flood is upon us!" Water began to seep around his hooves and he heard a roar.
Snatching the shiny thing in his teeth, Zulo splashed back to his father and galloped after his mother. With a roar the water broke free, rushing through the cave and filling it up completely to the top. The giant wave drew closer and closer and just before it hit they galloped out into the rainy night, as far from the entrance as they could.
"Zulo! Oh my, you're alright!" His mother circled him and sniffed him anxiously. He could hear her heart pounding.
"Haitzuloan! What a completely irresponsible, dangerous and deadly thing to do!" His father scolded him, his eyes wide with fear.
"We could have lost you!"
Zulo dropped his eyes and ducked his head. But he got what he had came for. His parents noticed the object in his mouth. Finding a dry rock underneath a tree branch, he placed it down. It was a delicate green feather, about the size of his ear, adorned in an emerald jewel at the base. The emerald is what had gleamed at him as he rushed by.
"Zulo.." His mother whispered. "It can't be."
"What, Momma, what?" Zulo replied, scared that he was in trouble again.
"This.. this feather.. this feather belonged to my great grandmother." She whispered. "It was the symbol of our herd. The Emerald Herd." The mare delicately sniffed the sodden feather. "You have found a valuable artifact. This is an item from our past, our ancestors."
"What do you mean?"
"Come here, let me tell you. Long, long ago, our caverns were filled with horses. My great grandmother, your great great grandmother, was apart of that herd. She was high ranking, the lead mare, and she always wore this feather with the emerald on it in her mane, at the top of her neck and behind her ear. It meant that she was the leader, the founder. This feather was supposed to be passed down through her descendants. But it was lost." Her head drooped. "In a flood that took our caverns, just like this one.
It was washed away, we thought it was taken out to sea. We scoured every tunnel looking for it but we could not find it. Every tunnel, but that one." She pressed her head against her son's.
"You have found the symbol of our ancestors. The Emerald Herd is no more, soon we fell prey to humans who tamed us with their strange ways. Me, you, and your father are the only remaining wild members of the Emerald Herd. This is the key to our past."
Zulo took in this story with great interest. This was who he was.
From that day on, Zulo wore that feather in the same spot his great great grandmother did: on the top of his neck on his mane,
behind the ears. It took many a moon for the caves to dry again but when they did, the Emerald Herd returned home for the first time. The herd has been reborn now that the ancestral symbol has been found, thanks to Zulo.
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