Adopters Anonymous ~ CLOSED, please lock

[hlsmith]

Hahaha, horsey1050, you just made my day!

[JerseyGoddess55]

Oh wow, AA closing? I have been a secret Stalker (>:D) since you guys started and would hate to see it die. If only I was actually good at non-traditional art.......

[Leaf97]

Technically, we have done that for the past two rounds and there has been little to no effort/interest in them.

Also, if you have read the rules, it states nothing about going for only one character per round. ;3
~

We are keener to start up an adoption site similar to CS, so if you like our designs... keep an eye out. ;3

Awesomesauce then I guess I will be going for two this time! I'd better edit my post then

[Ranua]

Image:


Name: Rontu

Age: 3 Years

Species: Horse

Breed: Shagya Arab x Kathiawari x New Forest Pony

Character Thread: Currently being organized

Theme Song: Shadows-RED

Reason You Want It:
Im simply infatuated with her markings and design! ^^
It was most definitely love at first sight!

The reason I made her such a strange character is because
I simply appreciate more out of the ordinary personalities.
I connect with them better I guess...
Ive been saving this personality idea for something special! X3
I really think she fits, somehow she does...I plan to make it so
that when he meets her dream mate when she's around 'it' tends
to go away seeing as she doesn't feel lonely anymore and so
doesn't need it.~<3

Herd: Winter Herd

Rank: Broodmare

Personality:
Rontu is ambitious as she is
collected. Although she appears mainly to be calm and reserved if one were
to peer inside her soul one would see her true nature.
Her deviating character alters from time to time, and she has a strange habit of talking to herself. Some say she has a split personality, some say she's just insane, but the truth is far more twisted than either hypothesis. Truth be told she's not alone in that body of hers. No, Rontu has just been so lonely for so long, she's created another soul to keep her company. She's not evil, or really physically or mentally bemused by her anima, but this 'other' soul does tend to affect her thoughts. She still dominates her actions and emotions, but she often consults the voice in her head about whether she should do this, or do that. It's a strange relationship, which could only be understood if you were one of the individuals in the partnership of soul and host.

Now, one may have assumed by the sinister nature of my writing style for the first paragraph of this personality that Rontu is a psychotic, demented female who is highly likely to chew your head off. If you have come to this assumption I am pleased to say you are entirely wrong. In fact, to the contrary I might say.
Rontu is an affectionate, comical character who is very demonstrative with his affection. She isn't exactly a chatter box but she does indulge in converse often with her consorts. In fact she seems to enjoy mingling with other stallions and mares. She isn't afraid to stand up for what she believes in, and is slightly naive in the manner she thinks anyone can change, no matter what their past is. Because of her beliefs she tends to assure in people too much and so usually loses friends due to the pressure. She is a strong and noble warrior who is loyal and cunning. She has staggering IQ of 174, and is very good at applying her current knowledge to new situations. She loves puzzles and brain games, but not as much as just basking in the sun. Even with so many positive traits, Rontu does have a more negative side. She's lazy and often neglectful of his conscious, putting the more important things as the latter.
She also often procrastinates, which gets her into all sorts of trouble.

Her happy go lucky exterior is just a barrier though. Shielding you from the view of the pain and misery which jerks and twists inside her. Like a virus, her misery consumes her. She is still over all happy, but from time to time she'll be agitated and affronted for no apparent reason. Her peripheral is a mask of her intuitive thoughts and feelings which revolve around her unfulfilled past ambitions. A scarring reminder of her weaknesses. She is really dying inside, and her friends can only hope a new male in her life can change her true nature.

Likes:

She's kinda outgoing sometimes, and is sort of considered a flirt. Though she prefers the company of attractive males to decent she will occasionally choose a decent male over a highly attractive one. She is okay with flirty males but prefers the more reserved ones seeing as she simply enjoys a challenge.

Her favorite food would have to be apples. Though she enjoys an occasional root or twig, she prefers an apple or piece fruit to any native Winter Solstice Herd treat.

She loves people who are reserved and honest, as well as down to earth. She's okay with shy people, but is more compatible with the moderate type. Outgoing characters tend to out compete her personality and so she tends to avoid them.

She likes to do simply nothing sometimes. To just sit down in a calm meadow with a few friends, and just cloud watch for a bit.

Rontu, being the born leader she is loves to do what she does best. Lead others. Even with her rather poor social skills (she's friendly and cute by nature but just a tad socially awkward) she still has a very good course of persuasion and is highly ambitious.

Dislikes:

She hates silence. She's endured it for too long, and has grown to associate laconism with loneliness. Feeling desolate is her worst fear. After what happened in the past, she's grown to appreciate the company of her friends far too long, and has even become a tad clingy to them.

Cocky people. She hates people who are over confident or picture themselves as the ideal leader type. Why? Probably because she is the leader type and hates the competition for dominance.

Rontu hates insincere people, she's not the best at identifying them, but she hates people who are openly dishonest.

She has a strange curiosity with water. Because she was confined to a cave most of her life she's had less time than others to explore and learn about textures, so it's only natural she has a slight fear of water.

Like most other animals in her region she hates Winter wolves. Now, usually Winter wolves live in the colder climates, but being versatile as they are they have adapted to several other biomes. This diversity has made them a highly successful species. With their numbers staggering, they are now beginning to out compete the local herbivores, the worst part being that your average Winter wolf is able to take down your average heavy draft.

She hates the taste and smell of yarrow (Achillea millefolium), a flowering plant meaning 'little feather' which is famous for it's strange healing abilities.

She hates spiders, and arachnids in general. They just...creep her out...
She can still touch them etc but she doesn't like to.

She has a particular distaste for canids in general, not just Winter wolves.

Epilogue:

WhiteBlaze snorted softly, his hollowed gaze flickering across
the blackened sky as the wind slipped through his mane, running across his pelt
as he swiveled his ears. His nostrils flared as WhiteWing approached, his eyes locking temporarily with hers as
she trotted to his side.
"Spring Solstice Herd may have accepted our truce. But they will never trust us so long as the river runs through our territory."
he said softly. He let his pelt brush hers for a moment, but pulled away when she uncomfortably side stepped, snorting. Even with the millions of stars which clung to the darkness above them not one reflected in the stallions gaze. WhiteWing who had noticed shivered slightly and scuffled her hooves, gulping nervously. "How so?" she asked glancing at her hooves for a moment. She lifted her head and side glanced at him, flicking her tail as he glimpsed at the wood where the river flowed, lashing his tail.
"The spirits are restless. They won't let us take immortality so easily. No, the shadows will claim the young of the valley as their own. And there is nothing in such a time of weakness we will be able to do to save the selected."

History:

During the age of warriors, in a place untouched by mankind,
was a valley.

Inside that basin endured four herds. The Spring, Summer, Fall, and...
Winter, Solstice herds.
My story begins here. In the valley of Solstice.

My birth was different than one of a typical equine. I had been bred knowing my fate, I had been foaled knowing
my purpose, my ultimate being had all ready been defined for me since I had been conceived. You see, after the great Solstice war the spirits of the Shadow river consulted Terrene, the Earth goddess. She concluded the only way to protect the river was to assign it a guardian. So, she selected 5 mares from each herd who were to give birth to the guardians of the shadow river.
My mother Whitewing was one of those mares. I can't really recollect much of her character, or her appearance for that matter, just her name. And as far as Im concerned that's all I need to remember.

I was born and raised a mortal, though I suspected I was different. I was isolated by my dam, who was paranoid for my safety. For most of my youth I was kept in a cave. The nature of which was my identity was sealed tighter than a tomb.
I never knew my sire, in fact, Im not even sure if I had one. I never asked mother about him, seeing as stallions in general tended to make her edgy. I couldn't imagine what she would have to say about my sire. So, I simply eluded the subject of males completely.

Eventually, I myself became irrational and frenzied.
I flinched at every sound, jolted with every movement. Unable to continue my life the way I was living it I realized the reason I was so agitated all the time was simply because I felt lost and forlorn. So, that's how it was created. At first I wasn't even aware of it's existence, not until it finally started talking to me.
Slowly but surely it began to gain my trust, and we began to bond. It was a strange relationship...mostly just because I was the only person who knew it was alive. I never told my mother about it though, at the time I was afraid she'd disburden me of my new playmate. And that was the last thing I wanted to happen...

Finally, I turned two, and was permitted to roam the herd like any other mare. Not that I was like any other mare. I mostly hung in corners and talked to it as they grazed. They all made me uncomfortable with their stares though, so I often roamed a little distance off for privacy. It felt good to be free of my mother, though my heart twisted with pity at the sight of the heart broken mare. She had lost her filly to the temporal length of event. As well as her affection. But this was her own fault. She had wringed me of my innocence, and suffocated me of my emotions for her. I could no longer feel ardour for the mare who had raised me, not after she had brought me such painful bindings. A few weeks passed and she died with high fever. I mourned deeply for my mothers loss, and prayed she would meet my father in the heavens once more.
Should I have one.

~+~
(( One year later ))
{She is now aware of the fact that she has been selected to be Nightmare; Guardian of the Shadow River}

My heart raced as I was led along with the four other selected
mares to the Shadow river. I felt so nervous, so vulnerable. 'It' comforted me and advised me to pray to my ancestors for assistance. Advice which I simply acknowledged with a slow nod of my head.
I licked my lips at the sight of the other 15 mares who had been chosen. They too looked nervous, and tension erupted from the pelts of my herd mates when we neared the stream like water bubbling from a brook.
"You took your sweet time." Mohawk muttered. Mohawk was the lead stallion of Summer Solstice herd, and was known for his brutality during war fare. "Calm down Mohawk." said Akira softly. My eyes rested on the radiant blood bay mare. Her pelt glowed in the silvery moonlight as she smiled at the newcomers, her gaze shining brighter than the stars in the night sky above us. Akira was the lead mare of Spring Solstice herd, and was relatively a peace keeper. I had all ways admired the mare, especially now that I felt so feeble.
"We all know why we're here!" came Trent. Trent was Winter Solstice herds lead stallion. His muscles rippled under his glossy pelt as his eyes locked with Akira, snorting softly. "The selected mares," he said turning his gaze to the other leaders, "Are to become the guardians of the Shadow river. They will abide here until the end of time, and must be undisturbed during this time." he snorted. Mohawk muttered something under his breath, though Akira pressed her pelt against his in a comforting manner which seemed to soothe him. Trent glared at Mohawk for a moment, and I pricked my ears when I saw a flicker of envy. But I quickly dismissed it as he continued, my head cocked in bewilderment.
"You all must drink from the Shadow River. It will give you strength as well as immortality so in the future you may face your fears and fight off any encroacher's." He glanced at his small band of mares, gesturing for them to go first. I hung back as Fallen, a ebony mare stepped forward and drank. I let all other mares go before me, but in all my anxiety I forgot to step forward. I was suddenly aware of his everyone's gaze boring into my pelt and I blushed in embarrassment. Akira must think Im a wimp...taking a deep breath I trudged forward and slipped my muzzle into the river. Immediately I felt a strange sensation flow through me, my eyes widening as my reflection glowed in the pool of shadows below. Stepping back after a few moments, I glanced up at Akira who smiled at me and winked. I blinked and smiled back before heading back to the others, my gait elevated and my ears pricked with joy. I noticed all the other mares and how they held their head up with pride, flicking their silky tails.
I then realized I was a Nightmare now, and it was high time I started acting like one.
Holding my ears erect and flaring my nostrils I cantered into place, my eyes shining. I was going to be just as great as Akira. No...even greater. I was going to be the best warrior there ever was.

Pics I drew of her:
Here!<3

Other: <333

[Lirrie]

Me as well i was eying a few others but i thought you could only go for one ^.^ teaches me to read aloooooooooot more carefully.

[Leaf97]

Image (of the character you would like to adopt)


Name
Shoreline(Name is subject to change)

Gender
Stallion

Age
3 years

Herd
None

Character Thread
viewtopic.php?f=10&t=337523

Breed/Species
Zebra/Thoroughbred

Why I Want/Love Him
The fact that Shoreline is different from most horses inspires creativity in me. He's unique and I'm sure I've never seen another horse like Shoreline before. With him being part Zebra it's completely different from any other character I've had before and I love him for that.

Personality
Shoreline is may seem jumpy on the outside but if you can get close to him and get to know him you will find he is actually quite gentle despite his heritage. Many think he is wild and a danger to others but it's only because of what he has been through and not because of the wild zebra deep down inside him. He knows he is different and accepts that. Shoreline is also sporty and playful, a side he has not gotten to show yet due to the abuse he has been put through but in due time his traits will come to the surface and he will be a much different horse.

Likes
Being outside
Freedom
Twilight Stars Ranch
Being different

Dislikes
People in white coats
Shots
Being caged up

Background/History

Newborn

"Number 12 has just foaled. It's a colt. Split coat. Weak. Might not make it." the man muttered into the recorder. He jotted down some notes on his clipboard and continued to study the mother and her foal."He will be called Subject 3."
The small colt flicked his ears in contempt as his mother dried him off and nudged him, urging him to stand up on his thin knobby legs. He placed to hooves in front of him and heaved himself up but not without great effort. He wobbled slightly but remained standing and hobbled to his mother to nurse.
"I will name you Shoreline after the water that laps the shore at the watering hole and after your split coat." came his mother's gentle high-pitched voice. She shook her black and white mane and looked down upon her foal with love. But somewhere in her eyes flickered pain and fear and...Was that disgust?
Shoreline made no sense of his mother's words and continued to nurse. When his belly grew full he stood back to admire his mother. He was astonished to see her black and white striped coat and how short she was. Did he look like that? He craned his head to look back at his flanks and whinnied in surprise. His fur was a glazed yellow and the front half of his body carried slightly darker striped fur. What was wrong with him? Why didn't he look like his dear mother?
But Shoreline was too tired and hungry to think of that now. He suckled greedily from his mother and was lulled to sleep by her high-pitched yips.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shoreline was now at least a month old and discovered all he needed to know from his dear zebra mother."So where is my father? The thoroughbred?" asked Shoreline curiously.
"Well now you father is a very famous and busy horse. He can't possibly stay in Stable 2 all day now can he?" replied Shanti, Shoreline's mother.
Shoreline now knew he was a half-breed however his mother had kept the dreadful secret of his conception secret from his receptive ears.
Shoreline opened his mouth to ask another question but stopped short when a man walked up to there large stable with a clipboard and pen in hand. He was a short balding scientist with glasses that sat askew upon his crooked nose. He scribbled something on the clipboard and beckoned to someone out of sight. The person, a young woman with red hair held in a tight bun. She was carrying a tray of syringes and picked one up."Time for your shots Subject 3." A stream of clear liquid shot out of the syringe and she unlatched the stall door and stepped in.
Shoreline had gone through this many times before but it still frightened him as he didn't understand what they were saying or what they always did to him. It was only the sharp pinch and numb feeling as it began to course through his veins.
Shanti did nothing to stop this but only stood and watched with wide fearful eyes. She shook her black and white mane nervously and nickered loudly. She stepped back into the corner of the stall and watched as the woman injected Shoreline with several shots each labeled with a different name and each with a needle longer than the last.
During the fourth, last shot, Shoreline whinnied in pain and bucked sending the now empty syringe flying out of the woman's hand.
The balding man in the white coat took a recorder out of his pocket and held down a button. He began to swiftly speak into it."Subject 3 is becoming agitated by Tester 4. He is destructive and seems unresponsive to Tester 1. Separation may be required sooner than expected. Subject 3 shows signs of living up to the wild equine genes inside him. Further testing will be needed."

Year One

"Subject 3 is now 1 year of age. His growth is stunning. Nearly taller than Number 12. Stripes in coat are more prominent. Coat color and structure is of Number 1's. No large medical problems...yet." The man in the white coat clicked off the recorder and turned his back on Shoreline.
Shoreline neighed softly, wishing to stretch his long muscular legs. He glanced at Shanti who now resided in their former stall alone. When she looked at him he could see the pain in her eyes but why wouldn't she tell him what was wrong? It's not good to bottle up your feelings. Didn't she know that?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shanti watched as they permitted her son to pasture. She could only hope that he would fair much better than the subjects before him. His siblings. He had progressed so far already though and had clearly exceeded expectations but she knew she shouldn't give much though into his future. The last one had died in her third year and it had been so sudden. You never knew when they were just going to drop dead.

Year 2

"Subject 3 is prone to aggressive behavior when confronted by a human. Nearly as large as a young thoroughbred. No signs of any upcoming health problems. Healthy as can be. If behavior progresses, may need to be put down."
Shoreline listened with interest as the man in the white coat and spectacle talked to the box once more. He nickered and stepped forward, his lips moving with thoughtfulness. He stuck out his tongue to lick the object only for his muzzle to be smacked away by a rough hand.

Other
Major WIP

[JerseyGoddess55]

When will this round be over?

[BPeppers]

Name: Aphrodite'
Nickname: Dite'
Gender: Female
Age: 5 cat years
Character Thread: ~ Wip
Breed/Species: Feline, House Cat, Siamese
Personality:

Flawless
Aphrodite' always brushes by things without a second thought. Her long legs allow her to move quickly, and her tail allows her to avoid objects in her path. Being siamese, arguably the smartest cat breed know to us, she has to keep up her reputation. A number of young cats actually look up to her, and as she loves to be, she actually does most things without flaw, in the meek opinion of others.

Fierce
When Aphrodite' gets upset, there's a fire in her no one can quite control. She usually begins by leaning backwards, whispering in harsh tones, and before you know it, she turns it to screaming. She sometimes even gets dizzy from it and the room starts to spin. You wouldn't ever want to get on her bad end, though. Ever. Her claws are short, but they can be deadly weapons.

Obnoxious
When she has nothing better to do, Dite' loves to butt into other peoples' business. She loves to try and solve petty issues that aren't her own, especially if the person tells her that the problem discussed is absolutely not her business and she shouldn't affect the outcome. That just means they're shy, she tells herself. They don't mean what they say. More than likely, the situation will turn out worse than it might've before she messed with it, but of course, Dite' doesn't care, not really. Usually the last line is, "Oh, sorry, see you later."

Embarrassed
When Aphrodite does something wrong, which she never does, she gets embarrassed. When she gets embarrassed, she feels like the whole world is screaming at her, and everything is wrong. She's supposed to be flawless, perfect, and she likes it that way. Of course, it's her job to keep it that way, and everyone gets embarrassed every once in a while, but she doesn't see it that way. It's more like God is trying to punish her.

Charming
When Dite' isn't busy being her usual self, she can actually be quite charming. If it's a good day, she can get most anyone to like her. The smiles she gives are to die for, and her attitude is a mixture of happy, flirtitous, and bubbly, which is not usual for Aphrodite. But, on the right day, she can actually be quite a people person.

Other:

WIP

[Lihmeth]

When will this round be over?

Probably on either Monday or Tuesday C;
I'd rather do it on Tuesday tbh, but I'll leave that up to the others.

[TheScamperPony]

Her is my entry! I'm still working out the kinks. I need to proof-read and such, but this is pretty much it! I made the font a bit bigger so I don't get a eadache trying to read it. I'll change it back when I'm done.

Name:
Calto(Call-toe)
Old name: Lasthon(Lass-th-on)

Character Thread:
Click
I would only let him sire up to four foals, and all by a mother chosen by me.

Breed/Species:
Horse; Thoroughbred-Arabian X Trakkener-Quarter Horse
This means that his mother was Thoroughbred-Arabian, her father Trakkener-Quarter Horse.

Personality:
I'm not good with describing personalities. But, here it goes!

Calto is a easily-pleased stallion who has no intentions for mischief. He loves his owners and treats them as family. Humans are not a bother to him, but if they are cruel, he will be cruel back. He is very intelligent, and knows it. He can be smug and stupid, but usually he isn't. He knows he is strong and hard to defeat, and secretly prides it. But underneath all that muscle and strength is a big kind heart waiting to be found.


Other:
And well-la! Here is the story!


~+~


Dirt was flying in his eyes as he rounding the corner, only a stride behind the lead horse. His rider kicked him and slapped him with the un-forgiving whip, and he put on a surge of speed. The finish line on the horizon was all he could see as he shot past the bay horse who was now in second. He sped under the finish wire, and his rider slowed him to a stop. Victorious cries of joy came from the stands, and his rider let out a cheer like no other. His brown eyes gazed upon the happy humans as they led him to his trophy, with a ring of flowers around his neck. His head was held high and his trot bouncy and swift. Another human handed a trophy to his rider and-
"Get up, lazy ass!" the sting of a whip woke him from his memory-dream as the cruel man whipped Lasthon over and over. He threw a halter on him and ran the horse down to his trailer; a dirty box about seven feet high with no roof and manure covering the ground.

"Get on with you, horse!" Another slap on the rear and Lasthon was in the trailer. Only a few moments after, the human man hoped in his dirty red truck and sped away from the barns, howling in a cruel, victorious laugh.

~+~

The place was dirty. It was cold, wet, un-welcoming. Horses with no more than skin stretched over their bones walked around, a dullness covering their eyes on their hanging heads. The mean human man took Lasthon out of the box-trailer and forced him into what had to be to world's tiniest stall. The smell of death and blood and sickness overwhelmed him. What had happened to him? Just an hour ago he was in his warm, spacious stall with his rider stroking him and telling him how good a boy he was for winning that race. But now he was in hell itself.

"Where are you from?" Lasthon jumped and turned his head to a cruel site: an old gelding so skinny, you could count his every rib. He was missing a leg. His eyes were sunken in and they shared the same dull gleam as almost every other horse here.

"I don't know. I just know I just ran and won the Kentucky Derby, I had a nice stall, perfect owners, and then this human just forced me into his trailer, taking me here!" His voice was edged with cruelty and madness.

The old gelding didn't seem to mind his tone. "I was young like you once. I won many races. And the man stole me, beating me, breaking me until I was this. You need to get out while your alive." the warning echoed in Lasthon's mind. Get out? How?

Lasthon had trust in him. He seemed trustworthy by the way he acted and immediately tried to help him. "If there even is a way to get out," he mumbled. He turned his back, not wanting to talk anymore about the situation. He knew what it was, he wanted to get out, but didn't know how.

The cruel man that had taken him away had stumbled into the barn. Lasthon could smell the drink on his breath, even when he wasn't near. "C'mon, boy, we gotta get you ready for work 'round here." His words were slurred and he tripped as he walked. Classic for men. Get drunk with an accomplishment, which in this case was stealing a prize winning horse. The man drew a long, mean looking whip from a box sitting on the ground. He herded Lasthon out of his stall with the whip, not even caring to put a halter on him. But the man wasn't smart, and the mad stallion was.

He reared up on his hind legs and came down hard on the man, screams of pain echoing in the barn. The stallion raced out of the barn after nodding a thanks to the old gelding. He ran and ran, not even caring where he went. His hoofs were battered and sore when he stopped, and his coat was drenched in sweat. He gave a neigh of happiness before collapsing on the ground for sleep.

~+~

Soft pinks danced in the sky when he woke. The sun was peaking it's head over the horizon. An eagle flew through the air, it's graceful wings spread was it glided down slowly from the sky. It dove at last minute and landed promptly in front of Lasthon.

"You should not be here. This is my territory." The eagle spoke with authority, authority that Lasthon wouldn't challenge usually. But in this case, the authority was two feet tall.

He laughed. "And you intend to make me leave how?"

The eagle had a mischievous glint in it's eye as it flew straight up, disappearing it went so high. Lasthon shrugged and went on. Before he would even take a few steps, something large, heavy, and sharp landed on his back. "Heyy!" he shrieked, rearing and landing on the creature. He got up and saw a winding eagle on the ground. He felt blood trickle of his back from where the eagle had punctured his back with it's talons. He kicked the eagle away, letting it hit the rocks. "I choose where I want to go," he said coldly. He turned around, and with his head held high, he trotted away.

~+~

The wounds on his back grew itchy and smelled of infection after only a few hours of walking. He hoped he would find a stream. He was thirsty and water was the best remedy for infections. His old owner used to pour it on his cuts and wounds, and they always felt better.

His head drooped as the day wore on. He didn't mind living in the wilderness, but he was so hungry. All the grass in the forest was covered by dead leaves.

When the sky was turning red and yellow, he stopped for the night. He layed in the shelter of a huge boulder. The wind couldn't reach him, and the leaves were soft under his tired body. He hoped tomorrow would bring a better day.

He pranced around happily in a green meadow. A wide, cool, river ran through the middle. His cuts felt better and his stomach was full. Life couldn't be better! He glanced across the meadow, where a pretty black mare was standing. A pang hit his heart as he realized who it was. "Mercury," he murmured. He raced to her, but when he reached her, she just faded away. His heart crumpled, as the world around him. The stream dried up, the grass died. Vultures circles in the sky, diving down to take bites of his flesh. He pressed his eyes close together and prayed for them to stop.

Lasthon's eyes shot open. His heart was beating so loud he was sure that you could hear it a mile away. It was all he could to stop his legs from running. Thunder boomed and lightning crackled, and the clouds released their sadness upon him. He sobbed in the rain, his heart aching worse than ever before.

~+~

"Daddyyy! Look it's a pony!" and little girl giggled and ran to the horse, grabbed it by it's muzzle. A smile covered her young face and a giggle escaped from her.

"Isabel! Bel! Get away from it!" Her father sounded worried as he came to scoop her up in his arms. Lasthon gazed up at him through tired, defeated eyes. He didn't like the woods at all.

"But daddy! He's nice!" she scrambled from his arms to come and sit on him. Lasthon nickered in surprise, but then nuzzled the girl. Her father seemed to be considering something.

"Welll.... he looks like a fine jumper." he gave in to his daughters wails and pleas to keep him. The little girl, Isabel, gave shouts and cheers as she watched her father help Lasthon up. The walked through the forest while Isabel rode on his back, saying, "Gidy-up, bronco!" and kicking him with her little feet. Lasthon felt warmth for them; they seemed a nice family full of love.

When they finally reach their home, Lasthon was impressed. Well kept horses where being ridden in a jumping ring. Others were being hosed, and still other ate happily in their stalls.

"C'mon, boy, let's get you clean." The man washed him thoroughly, then tended to his wounds. "You got in some fight, ol' guy," he said genially. As soon as the cuts were taking care of, the man led Lasthon to a stall. Fresh bedding lined the floor, and soft, but warm, foot waited him. "That stuff is good for you, boy. You gotta eat it. I know it's mushy," the man stroked him kindly.

"Daddy daddy!" Isabel raced in before he could eat his food. I want to call him Calto!!" she grabbed his leg and hugged him. Lasthon, or Calto, was startled, but didn't shake her off. He father just nodded approval, seeming to like the name.

Calto gladly ate the food, and then drank some water out of a nearby bucket. A pang pierced his heart as he remembered the other horses from the cruel man's old house. He shook the thought from his head. Worrying wasn't going to get him anywhere.

~+~

"Let's go, Calto!" Isabel shouted. They came near the last jump. He jumped, sailing over the high poles, and landing promptly on his feet in a canter.

"That was our last contestant for today! Riders, please make your way to the judging ring!" an announcer boomed. Isabel steered Calto to the judging ring. He trotted as nicely as he could. This competition could get them into the world championship, he had learned, for jumping. They had to win. He knew he was the oldest horse in the competition: he was nearing on eighteen. But that didn't mean he couldn't win! He still won races against young racing colts, just like he did in his childhood. He was strong.

"And..... the horse and rider pair going to the Nation Championship is....." he felt Bel hold her breath. She wanted this badly. She was the youngest rider in the competition, yet she was the same age as Lasthon.

"Isabel and Calto!" He did a small rear of joy when Bel asked him, and he heard the shouts of her parents happily celebrating her achievement. Bel hoped off and patted his nick, kissing him on his head. "You did good, boy." she cooed. "I couldn't have ever asked for a better horse."

Calto was filled with happiness as she hosed him down. She put him in his stall to eat and rest. After he was done, he stuck his head over the stall to look outside and catch the breeze that was able to blow through the barn.

"Lasthon[[His old name]]?" Calto turned his head to see an elderly man looking at him. "My God, it is you!" a little cane dropped to the ground as the man almost ran to him, embracing the horse with his spindly arms. "I raced you, those 16 years ago. We won the Derby, and then you were stolen. I never raced again. I missed you so much!" the little man seemed close to tears. Then it struck him. This was the jockey that raced him of so many times! The man who cared for him, loved him, more than any jockey could! Calto nickered happily, nuzzling his old friend.

Out of the corner of his eye, Calto saw Isabel and her father running up. "Sir, what do you think you're doing with Calto?"

The little man shook with laughter, leaning on his old horse for support since his cane was on the ground. "16 years ago, when I was a jockey, I raced this horse. I took care of him as he took care of me. He wouldn't let nobody ride him 'cept me. 60 was and still is old for a jockey, should'a been retired. But his old owner let me have a go on him, and we won. Then he was stolen, and no one ever found him. We eventually found his robber, but he said the horse had gotten away. I suspect y'all found 'em. I see you take good care of him, and that's good. He deserves it."

Isabel and her father looked more surprised that Calto himself! They just nodded.

The little old man laughed yet again. "I must be on my way, but I bid ya good wishes in that National Champion thing-o-yours. I was just wonderin' though, do y'all think I could come an visit him every so often?"

"We'd be delighted!" Bel's father said. "I'm.... more than happy we know where he came from, and you get to see your horse again." he bent down to pick up the man's cane. He handed it to him. "Do you need help out?"

"Naw, i'm fine, thanks. Y'all have a nice day!" and with that he was off.

"That was... interesting," said Bel. "Never heard of him." she went about her work, cleaning her tack, raking out stalls, stuff like that. Barn hands said they could so it, but she insisted on doing to dirty work for herself. It wasn' fair for her to be all high and mighty, ordering people to clean for her.

When she was done, she came into his stall where he had layed down. She leaned against him, happy and content. "I love you boy," she said happily. "You really are a good horse." Calto nuzzled her genially, then fell asleep with his muzzle in her hands.



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2200 words and counting. Not the the length matters, I'm just adding more to some thin parts of the story! Some parts aren't descriptive or they just don't have the umph in them. I got so into this story! I have to make it perfection! xD