The Lost Islands
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We're breaking in, shaping up
Posted on April 29, 2013 at 06:32:33 PM by SYNDROME





The shadows of the trees fell on the outline of the mare's body and broke it up as she stood in her new home. She didn't exactly consider it a home, but she assumed she could not leave whenever she felt like it. She spent her time wandering among the handful of other women, not knowing anybody, not really caring to interact with anyone. She assumed she'd have to speak again at some point to the stallion who had claimed her, but he seemed busy.

The woman picked her way through the thick bed of fallen leaves, her focus on the satisfying crunch of their dried bodies as they crumbled beneath her hooves. Her coat was cleaner now after the swim, but her mane and tail remained tangled, and she didn't quite know how to fix that, nor did she really care. She kept walking until her eyes and her legs found good spots on the ground to stop moving and remain still.

The mare let her eyes and her neck droop, and she shifted her weight to one hind leg. She hadn't slept in a significant amount of time, and it seemed a good nap was in order. She shifted her main sensory system to her ears, receiving anything audible through them and allowing her eyes and nose to rest. She didn't move much aside from an occasional lazy flick of her tail, or the shift of her weight from one leg to the other.



IT’S A REVOLUTION, I SUPPOSE; WE’RE PAINTED RED TO FIT RIGHT IN.
----------------------------------- Syndrome | 3 years | 17hh | silver grullo tobiano


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