[HowlingHooves]

Username: e s t e l l e
Show Name: Northern Bound
Barn Name: Foslight
Gender: Stallion
Height: 18 hh

Sire: Foundation
Dam: Foundation

Phenotype: Flaxen Black Chestnut
Genotype: ee aa ff
Eye Color: --
Breeding Notes:
- Dominant for recessive Flaxen.

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Show Name: Northern Bound
Barn Name: Foslight
Eye Color: 99B898 - Soft Mint

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Required: ngh - flaxen
Optional: Breeds such as the Haflinger carry flaxen as a breed trait; purebred Haflingers always express flaxen.

Additional:
Haiku:
From within the woods
Comes a softer, benign soul,
Immortally bound.

Art:

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Required: xXx
Optional: Persephone <3

Additional:

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Required: xXx
Optional: Bird Feeder (hanging suet)
Materials: Bread, Peanut Butter, Cookie Cutters, Bird Seed, Twine or string
1. Use cookie cutter to cut out shapes in bread.
2. Poke hole through top of shape (using a straw would be helpful).
3. Let shapes dry out overnight. Flip once if desired so it hardens evenly.
4. Use butter knife to spread peanut butter evenly over the bread.
5. Roll bread in bird seed until completely covered. Clear the hole on top from any peanut butter and bird seed.
6. Cut a piece of twine and string it through, then tie a knot such that the twine makes a loop to hang on a branch (ornament style).
7. Hang up for the birdfrens.

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Required: xXx
Optional: (379 words)
-----There was something to be missed about my mother’s warmth, her kind nose on my neck and soft encouragements in my ear. But she was sent off soon after my weaning by the humans for motives of their own, reasons I could not comprehend. Still don’t; the humans have a mind unlike ours. In such a short time, I loved her dearly, but forgetting her seems to happen too often for the separation to have meant much.
-----The true significance of the memory lies with the humans. Flitty, curious beasts, they were. Their homes were made of skins - from animals and trees alike - and so were the gear they strapped across our backs. Or the backs of my kin, for I didn’t stay long enough to experience the feel of another creature’s hide slipping across my own.
-----I left shortly after my mother did, though not in rebellion of it. Coincidence, the timing could be called, since it would have happened at some point regardless. I left because the fire was too warm, the humans too loud, the ringing of hammers on metal as they smithed their sharp weapons too unnatural to my ears. Just beyond our home was a line of forest, and if I listened carefully enough I could hear the swift songs of birds and the quiet rustle of plants, and beyond that, nothing of consequence.
-----Whereas the humans were loud and busy, glaringly bright at all times, the forest was quiet and dark. Peaceful. Untouched.
-----So I waited long into the night, as the humans were loath to rest, until I knew the sun would be rising soon. I leapt over the fence, too low for a rebellious colt, but the strange creatures out there seemed to trust too freely. The path from there was clear and easy, and so I took it, and never took it again. The forest is quieter than I had hoped, and if at night I listen carefully enough, I can still hear the fire and the shouts, and the ringing of metal on the forge. But most nights I don’t, because the birds sang soft songs, and the leaves whispered above and below, and there was hardly a thing I could miss when here I was so at home.


Additional:
Playlist:
Peace in the Valley - Elvis
One Headlight - The Wallflowers
In the Summertime - Mungo Jerry
California Dreamin' - The Mamas and The Papas
I Want to Break Free - Queen


Tale: (992 words)
-----Distinct to the further woods are a nearly joined pair of groves, where the trees grow so dense and familial that the ground is nothing but a pit of writhing roots, growing around and beneath the others as a pocket of snakes. Nothing blossoms beneath the leaves but a light pocket of moss, dusting the curves of roots and trunks and the stray rocks between.
-----Small animals aren’t uncommon here, able to scale the branches or fly across, but the larger beasts dare not amble through. Small deer get caught in the strands, and the larger wild horse tumbles over the uneven terrain. So the only sounds are the winds in the leaves and the soft songs of birds.
-----It’s in the copse that links the groves where Foslight resides, a trollish type draft with a stony expression and natural heart. He’s soft and kind, but tough to get to, and he hides away behind the ribbons of weeping willows. Shy, some call him, but more so reserved. He’s content with a quiet day and peaceful night, wanting nothing more from the world than a life of calm and ease.
-----So when upon an Autumnal Solstice the twin groves shook, Foslight was bated between laying where he was or simply leaving altogether. Not all too eager to investigate, but too satisfied with his home to leave, he contented himself with the former, resting under the shade by a stream. But for a fortnight thereafter the rumblings of what he assumed belonged to a beast made the trees shiver and dance. Each night the trembling grew closer and colder, stronger and more clear.
-----Not a particularly fearful creature, but unwilling to face the unknown monster, Foslight crept further into the heart of the copse, at the eye between the two growling groves. But the next night the beast came closer, closing in around him, and yet the night after. It was escaping the confines of the twin groves, betraying the sanctity of his peaceful, pristine copse.
-----At last Foslight could take it no more, and so he stood at the complete center of his home and peered all around, watching and waiting and prepared for the beast. He stood ready as the sun fell from the sky, the last rays of light quivering in fear for what came at the night, hiding behind the shield of the horizon.
-----He stood, anticipating yet, as the moon braved the sky and cast a shawl upon the woods, daring between the thick leaves of the trees. But for that night, for the first time since it began, the rumbling of the forest never came. There was no shaking in the branches or dance in the ground, no pattering as rodents ran for cover in their homes, or escape from it all. He stood waiting as the sun rose from its bed once more, left alone and wondering, but mostly just relieved it was gone.
-----Whatever it was, he may not know, but Foslight never desired to see the face of the forest beast to begin with, so it was no great loss to him. Tired and content that his worries were gone, he slept through the day, and into the night. But again he was awaken as the moon reached its height, by the ground shaking beneath where he lay. The beast was back, after a night’s worth of rest, and Foslight stood to face him at last.
-----There was nothing around him, tangible at least, so he closed his eyes and searched for the heart of the sound. It pounded prominently from the Eastern grove, and so he began his search by approaching the growth. He quickly reached the outer edge, his copse being small and narrow. At his hooves were the tail ends of the roots, tangling quickly into a hedge-high mass of twists and ties.
-----There was no way to climb over the knotted terrain, though Foslight could feel the tremors in his chest and knew he was close to the beast. Slowly, peering into the heart of the density, he traced along the edge of the grove, feeling the quake in the air grow stronger as he went. Unaware of his steps, he paused when the solid dirt gave way to the sinking of sand. Confused and unsure, having never travelled this way before, he looked around and found himself in awe of the splendor.
-----Before him stretched a stream beyond any he’d ever seen before, so vast and spectacular that perhaps, comparing it to a stream was a bit meager. It reflected the stars with a fervor more brilliant, dancing in time to the pulse of the beast. And there, in the distance, escaping the trap of the water’s vast pool, was an angry bout of black and grey, the silken edges of white appearing under the cast of the moon.
-----Smoke, he recalled, as e watched it billow and writhe, twisting angrily and strong, It was so far away, the origin nearly invisible to him, but from the intensity alone Foslight could only imagine the sheer size and intimidation of the angry beast below. Mesmerized, unable to move, Foslight watched through the night until the smoke darkened and fattened, leering ominously as the sun rose again, until pillars of black and white flew to the sky, breaking apart the earlier clouds with a movement so harsh and unforgiving. Soon after came a distant glow of red and a beam of pure gold, radiant under the first rays of day.
-----Dazed by the display, and numb from the unwilling vibration of the ground beneath him, he could only think to compare the bloom to the blossoming of a deadly, cold flower. A vision he’d never seem once before, or should ever see again. For when he finally moved, it was to his copse that he returned, and not once again did he encounter the beast, and his copse was safe again.

Bust: