The Lost Islands
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Falls

Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.

Is the last of all; Roza and Rohanne

Mjar


Mjar was glad that the weather was starting to get chillier. She hated summer, it was too hot and she disliked the limited options of keeping cool. They all involved either not moving out of a certain area or repeating the task one too many times. But now the wind would begin to make her shudder and it would cause the leaves to fall off the trees. The small streams might freeze over and frost would cover everything. Her love of the cold seemed to be the only thing she shared with her mother. Otherwise they were almost opposites with two different plans for the upcoming winter.

Currently the black mare was standing under a tree with her mother on the other side. It was nice to stand quietly for a moment, without having to be worried about any sudden movements her pale mother might make. Now she could at least hear the mare approaching and have time to get out of the way or prepare to be herded somewhere else. Luckily the cooler temperatures seemed to be putting the pale mare in a better mood. It was evident since she seemed to be grooming Mjar much more often and not putting as much force behind her bites while herding her. The black mare enjoyed the change; she hoped it would last until the end of winter.

Mjar lowered her head to halfheartedly nibble at the drying grass. Her mother had told her that she would want to stay full, especially once winter hit again. Based on the amount of horses there were last year, both mares had no doubt that they wouldn't get as much grass as they wanted during the winter. Although this island was the biggest, it seemed to hold almost too many horses to sustain. Her mother had told her that they might have to go to an area where they would be vulnerable to stallions. Mjar wasn't sure what to think of them yet since her mother always chased them off. Obviously they were to be greeted with caution.

The black mare lifted a head to break out of her musing, instead watching the sun as it dipped below the horizon.


No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
html and character by bix


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