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xxusername; slit
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xxpartner; fire-rose
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xxname; sangha
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xxgender; stallion
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xxhalter color; something african-based possibly? c:
"Was he always ferocious? ""He was a very shy animal when he arrived here, full of fear. It's always fear that makes us into killers. "╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗story; the warmth of the early morning had been very welcoming- creeping in the tendrils of the sun's rays to overcome the icy cold grip of the night before. their stall was as it always had been, always would be- a fresh pile of shavings spread out, hay a bit messily tossed about in a fashion he would always find funny. their mother's breathing. the slow rise and fall of her sides- how mesmerizing and calming it was, enough to soothe away any night fits sangha suffered. it was something he would always remember, how she smelt in the morning as they stay tucked against her stomach, listening to her heavier, louder heartbeat. the thing was, even if physically it would be true as a foal, as the grown stallion sangha is now his heart would never be as big as his mother's. what a caring creature- so beautiful and giving. he would yearn to see her face again, every day in the walk by of a new arrival of the barn, at his own reflection in the stream by the rear field. her soft features, the gentle reassuring of her voice that day- she loved them. she loved them and they would be okay.
it was a normal morning, until thirty minutes into their awakening. he could remember his eyes opening, seeing the fairies of the barn dust dancing in the golden rays that hit through the bars of their stall. his brother's white and black pelt beside him, their mother of course. sangha would wake first that day, having been through a bit of an uneasy sleep, though he was sure nobody got much of a good night's rest from their mother's horrid coughing. there was an illness, mum had said, a bit of a chill the broodmares had caught. she never would have told her sons that there was no hope for her and the others, but sangha understood that now, many years later.
he ate his hardy breakfast like he always did, the precious routine fell back into place. they could not have been up for more than three-quarters of an hour when usually loud squeaking of a vehicle pulled into the driveway. curiosity would bring him forward to try and stretch a fuzzy head over through the bars- but he could not see. mum had told him what it was, between wheezing, a trailer. he was curious of course and asked who it was for, but there was no answer from her. being not even six months old, poor sangha thought nothing of her eerie quietness.
there was lots of movement, men signing papers, expressing sympathy- not that he could understand any of it all. and when they opened the stall to slip halters onto him and his brother, well- he would have assumed they were going to the paddock for the afternoon. there was a lack of louder hoofsteps behind them, and sangha would twist his head around just before the entrance of the barn - struck with confusion and sudden childish panic when mother was not behind them. he would call out- he would ask why she was not following, but she kept giving him the same response. i love you, i love you, you will be okay. it meant nothing to him, as cold panic set over and when the looming- black pit of the trailer and it's horrible metal ramp appeared in front of him poor sangha would start struggling. he gave high little squeals, eyes wide and his heart full of fear. he would yell to his mother, for her to come get them, why she was not coming, where they were going. he had been screaming so many questions he could not hear anything else, if she had ever been responding in the first place.
the men were stronger than he- the poor little foal kicking and squealing and throwing his head to and fro. but large arms gripped around his baby-fuzz covered rump and gave him a shove, no matter how hard he would struggle it was a quick trip with skidding hooves and suddenly there were walls around him- cold and hard and with little slits for windows through out them. the man would leave and the ramp would suddenly shut with a loud clatter behind him. the sound of the lock being set in place was heard, and even if the start of the truck was loud his own heartbeat was louder. there was a familiar shape in here though- his sibling. Oh, dear, his sibling. who must have been as frightened as he. sangha watched with wide eyes- trying to stare into the face of his brother to see the emotion.
their mother not being there was the scariest, most confusing thing to ever happen to a poor foal. the trailer lurched- began to roll forward, and sangha was quick to stumble his way to shove his nose between one of those window slits- he had to stretch his neck to reach, an uncomfortable cramp hindering that action, and he would certainly lose his weak voice the next day- but with cracking vocals the young colt still called for their mother. desperate and raw. he was frightened, oh so frightened and upset. was there mother just as frantic as he? was she pawing at her stall- trying to get to her baby boys with regret for not fighting for them? sangha knew now she must not have been. they would have caught their own deaths if they stayed in the disease-ridden farm, they would be alive today if they had not been brought into that horrible trailer.
with a low sigh, the sorrel stallion slowly lifts his head from the stalks of grass he had been pulling mouthfuls of. the memories of the past would not help now- their mother was dead, or perhaps she did get better, but they were many miles away from her now. the familiar white coat of his brother is not too far up from him, very comforting and very familiar. he loved his brother, his only family left. there was nothing that could separate them, and if anything tried they would have to deal with a fiery, braver sangha.
extras(if any); color in by me╚════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ 
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