Posted on November 2, 2012 at 08:12:25 PM by BADR
 The last time there had been a stranger on the heat rippled horizon of his home, he had been greated by a heavily pregnant woman that had deemed the dunes worthy of being her temporary home. She had boasted tales of how she had born on this particular piece of land, and how there had been a great king here long before the flaxen maned stallion had even come about the islands. When he had still been lost in the shadows of his past, still struggling to find a way out of the tar pits and the salt flats and to somewhere that would give him the sustainance he needed to live. It had been beyond his dreams to imagine that he would be serving a host of women and children in his tiny piece of paradise, and that he would, for all he knew, be tamed into being a family man for all the terrible memories that he had.
Standing in front of him are, perhaps, two of the most sickly looking horses he had seen for a long time. Many years ago, ribs and paper-thin skin were a common thing, even he had been frail and delicate to the touch, slowly wearing away to starvation under the sun, and still struggling to be successful and to be a survivor. As the woman inches closer, her voice sounding tired and her face reaching out to greet him, Badr leans forwards to let his nose hover near hers, not quite touching, as such gestures were best reserved for familiarity, but offering her a good whiff of his scent, whilst tasting her own breath in turn. Her words are feeble, and perhaps she knows nothing of the might of the desert nomads- the skinny, frail looking horses that appeared sickly to the naked eye, but were hell on hooves when cornered into close combat. There was an itch in his shoulder that reminded him of the trickery behind those that appeared sickly, knowin that mothers and threatened creatures were as deadly and dangerous as wolves. Since the death of a comrade, the dunes borders have widened greatly. He states quietly in reply to the womans question of room. There is more space than I care to fill. Naturally, as the great desert lords of salem disappeared, Badr had gone about expanding his borders almost greedily, following the soft curves of the dunes and ensuring that there were no predators or lingering bachelors that should pose a threat to his herd. As the young boy speaks up, Badr looks down to him, a questioning look invading his features. How old are you, boy? He knew nothing of the age of the other male, but he appeared young by the look of him, and for this, Badr was concerned of his capability to be a leader. badr The misguided jailbird. stallion. flaxen liver chestnut. unknown crossbreed. ee aa ff. fifteen & three hands. eight years. russell. |
Click image for full size.
Replies:
- sweet like the clover - By el cardo and sato November 8, 2012 at 05:51:07 PM
- Let there be fire. - By BADR November 30, 2012 at 07:15:45 PM
Post a reply: