The Lost Islands
CLICK FOR IMAGE CREDITS


There is no love, just appetite;






There is no love, just appetite.
And it's consequences keep you up at night.



The buckskin-hued stallion stood rather proudly at the shoreline of his new home, a gushing grin plastered across his whiskered maw. For the first time in his life, he had a home. He had something to call his own. The salty waves lapped at his hooves, sand staining his dark legs and adding a layer to his coronet band. The cool ocean breeze whipped through his unruly locks, dark, tangled knots fluttering in the gust, and the pesky strands of his forelock masking his emerald eyes. Perhaps stumbling upon the islands again was something he was meant to do. It was his next chapter - after spending several years abroad as a bachelor, this was his sign to abandon this lifestyle for something else. Something that had the opportunity to mean more to him, and to the others, who would put their trust in him. The whole idea of it was enthralling, but damn near terrifying, too.

Kasabian let out a low snort, soft-skinned nostrils flaring as he pivoted on his haunches and began the trek into the growling jungle. His limp wasn't quite so visible in the soft sand, but the stud stumbled fairly frequently over the rocks, the stiffness in his hip and the weakness in his front leg obvious to any predator that may have been spying in the distance. Kasabian wasn't exactly lead stallion material by first glance. His lackadaisical, carefree personality made him better suited as a vagabond, coming and going as he pleases. It was in his nature to roam, to see the world, to meet others of his kind, to have a good time. He wasn't the one to patrol or govern, bark orders or chase away strangers. But he was willing to try, ailments and all.

He stallion tried not to think about it too much - as he did about most things - and instead enjoy the land he had conquered today. The scent of several others was still strong on the land, the sweet perfume of women, and of children, lingering in the grassy slopes and among the palmed branches. This place resembled The Shore - Kasabian's last real home - and he smiled, thinking of his former partner in crime, Debonaire. Perhaps his old friend was still lingering around here.


KASABiAN
8 | Buckskin | Stallion | Arabian X Thoroughbred X Mustang X Halflinger | 16. 1 | © Vinyl








Replies:
There have been no replies.



Post a reply:
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message:
Link Name:
Link URL:
Image URL:
Password To Edit Post:





Create Your Own Free Message Board or Free Forum!
Hosted By Boards2Go Copyright © 2020


<-- -->