xxxxxUsername
xxxxxxWolves of Rain
xxxxxxName
xxxxxxBleeding Lilly(Asia)
xxxxxxGender
xxxxxxMare
xxxxxxAge
xxxxxx27
xxxxxxHeight
xxxxxx17.3 hh
xxxxxxBio
xxxxxxAsia was born abroad the open deserts of the Middle East. As the place of birth of the
world's oldest known domestic horse breed, Asia strongly protected the herds around the area.
She tends to be a lone traveler, keeping company of herself among the shifting dunes. But as
the years went by and the numbers of Wild Arabians diminished, she was forced to leave. With
the preference of wide open spaces, she left off for Mongolia. Now she tends to guard the robust
herds of Prezwalski's horses that travel around the turbid mountain terrain. A great wish of
hers is to someday visit the great plains of North America before they disappear completely, so
that she may catch a glimpse of the Wild Mustangs.
xxxxxxShort Story
xxxxxxShe watched from behind a rocky outcrop, relishing the cold wind on her tough hide against the hot sun. Her mane flickered past her vision, hitting her mask in rough thwaps. A pair of stallions bucked and kicked and bit in their battle for the harem. It was the way of the herd, she could not interfere.
A mare nickered at the approaching victor, nuzzling her foal to the side. It should be treated tenderly.
There was a gunshot in the distance. Her docked ears flickered this way, that. Ninjas were common along the rivers, especially at this time of year. The gold was rushing, the Ninjas would profit. But it always left the herds vulnerable. The warm weather enabled zoologists to travel near and pick them off for zoos, or for others to hunt. Asia had watched many many horses be carted off, but similar to the Arabians she knew some, or at least most, would be well-kept.
The thunderous sound of hooves came closer, and suddenly a tribal band appeared from behind the mountain, down in the high valley. The horses started towards her nervously, the loser stallion limping away slowly. He would be spotted, possibly seized or killed.
Asia watched as a gun was hoisted upon one of the men's shoulders. A large rifle, accompanied by a few more. She thought of the American's, the black market, the Ninjas. It was all possible. But she found herself intent on observing the actions of the horses the men rode. They were silent, well-controlled, burly and woolly and stocky and short. They all looked more like ponies rather than true horses.
The group began to quickly load, the herd getting closer. Asia moved along the top of the mountain and around the other side, careful to remain unseen. She would not violate the peace between her and fellow creatures, unless of course without provocation.
A gunshot went off. A loud crack that split the air with a bullet and pierced the hindquarter of a mare, causing her to straggle. A pony reared. The herd ran desperately up the side of the mountain, close to the top. Asia watched painfully as the stallion off in the distance fell heavily to the ground, made lame by the pain of another bullet.
She rushed out in a burst of speed, hoping to stun the men. There was nothing she could do about the damage except observe the cycles of nature. But if she could stun the men off there would be no further conflict.
A fueling, burning rage filled her like a poisonous gasoline. The rage, the strange feeling of a mother protecting her foal was overwhelming. But Asia calmed herself as she stood along the hilltop, in the way of their aim. She stamped a foot, but not in greeting.
They all stopped. They had never seen a horned horse with a metal mask before. Let alone her glowing eyes or carnivorous teeth. She watched with a piercing green graze, holding them in a transfixed standoff.
"Lili tsus!" a few shouted in hushed tones of awe. So that had heard. She was here, had been for a while now. A younger man held his gun at ready, daring to shoot her. An elder of him hit the barrel down, causing the other ponies to spook.
Now fearfully, they turned and galloped off.
Asia turned back to look at the herd. Her herd. She had lost two more to the spirit of man.