[Malcasia]

Younger version of my Steampunk Horse fursona. I still have no idea what to name her.

She ran on, ignoring the dust that clouded up behind her and the dust that drifted into her face, sticking to her nose and getting in her eyes as she tried to get away. She would not become like the others, mindless zombies bending to every will and whim of the human race. No, she would run until she could find others like her, others who want to keep their freedom and independence.