Post by phantom on Dec 10, 2006 9:06:53 GMT -5
Perhaps it was her loneliness. Perhaps it was because she was bored. Or maybe it was another feeling in enterity. But whatever that feeling was, the mare was here. Her flowing mane and tail where not flowing. Her shining pelt was not shining. She looked grumpy, and when mares are grumpy, stags need to watch out.
Her flints where placed firmly in the earth. Her ears where foreward, unmoving. The wind pelted her from behind, a cold battering wind. It made her tail come forward and ripple around her legs. Her mane was toying around her head. Red Dove's teeth where clenched. She tossed her head, flicking her forelock behind her ears so that she could actually see what was before her. Her slender legs stood straight, black socks curling up her legs and fading away. There, the blood red color that was the rest of her pelt covered her. Red Dove's head was carved in a slope, and showed that somewhere along the line, arabian blood was born into her.
Cold eyes watched the trees. She felt the sting of leaves whipping over her hind quarters and scattering across her back. Suddenly, she wheeled. She spun, leaning back onto her hind end, and twirling in circles. Her front flints did not touch the Earth.
Red Dove screamed. It was a high pitched call that sent shivers up the spines of any horse. She yelled. Then, finally, she pushed all of her body upwards. There she stood, balanced and perfect. She threw back her head, closing her eyes, and feeling the wind blow her mane about her, and felt the leaves twirl around her. She whinnied. This time she was calling a stallion. Calling a leader. Calling a home to her. She pushed her front legs up, and thumped them down in a expression of might. Down she came to the earth, and she landed with a thud. The wind died, and no longer blew. She snorted through her nostrils and stood survaying her surroundings...
Her flints where placed firmly in the earth. Her ears where foreward, unmoving. The wind pelted her from behind, a cold battering wind. It made her tail come forward and ripple around her legs. Her mane was toying around her head. Red Dove's teeth where clenched. She tossed her head, flicking her forelock behind her ears so that she could actually see what was before her. Her slender legs stood straight, black socks curling up her legs and fading away. There, the blood red color that was the rest of her pelt covered her. Red Dove's head was carved in a slope, and showed that somewhere along the line, arabian blood was born into her.
Cold eyes watched the trees. She felt the sting of leaves whipping over her hind quarters and scattering across her back. Suddenly, she wheeled. She spun, leaning back onto her hind end, and twirling in circles. Her front flints did not touch the Earth.
Red Dove screamed. It was a high pitched call that sent shivers up the spines of any horse. She yelled. Then, finally, she pushed all of her body upwards. There she stood, balanced and perfect. She threw back her head, closing her eyes, and feeling the wind blow her mane about her, and felt the leaves twirl around her. She whinnied. This time she was calling a stallion. Calling a leader. Calling a home to her. She pushed her front legs up, and thumped them down in a expression of might. Down she came to the earth, and she landed with a thud. The wind died, and no longer blew. She snorted through her nostrils and stood survaying her surroundings...