Posted on September 10, 2019 at 02:45:38 AM by Ruger
Ruger stallion | 15.3hh | EE aa TT | son of the wolf Many did not remember the time when there were four territories per island. A time that life was thriving and room had to be made for all the families that inhabited these lands. Truthfully, Ruger did not remember that time either because it was before he was born. The knowledge was still there; precured in his travels and talks from a face he couldn’t recall, and it was that curiosity that struck him today for him to wander further from the herd than he usually did to a place he could only imagine was once called the Thicket. The undergrowth was thick and the stems drug at his sides and he pushed through. Head down, ears back, it was only stubbornness that seen him through as the vegetation clawed at him. Surely he would find a clearer place; a place that would make it all worth while for someone to once call this place their own. When Ruger finally noticed the brush thinning it was laughter up ahead that caught his attention. Breaking free of the thickly grown plants and into the more open trees that now smelled of Persephone, the painted stallion realized he had worked his way through that horrid territory only to end up in the Forest. A snort of disapproval escaped him, tossing his head in annoyance before once again laughter reached him and caused his ears to flick forward for the first time. The sounds were closer and he could hear their quick hoof beats although clearly there was no danger or threat. Perhaps he should just see himself off? Just as he was about to turn away the tumbling legs and tail of a filly came into view only a few feet away. Standing stock still, Ruger just stared at her until the larger figure of the mother approached. Too preoccupied with the filly’s fall, Ruger went unnoticed from the duo but it was as he looked over the mother’s painted coat he realized just who she was and just who the filly was as well. A sudden swell of guilt seized him, tightening around his chest and squeezing uncomfortable. Ears pinning, Ruger took a step back hoping to make an exit without being noticed still. But just as he placed his hoof down the incredibly loud crack of a stick echoed around them. Two sets of eyes turn towards him and Ruger froze. Ears pushing forward, eyes hardening to that cold gleam; Ruger painted on that mask he was so good at wearing. Despite the sticks and mats in his mane and tail from his earlier adventures, the stallion looked every bit the lagoon man he had been when he had last encountered the mare. |
Replies:
- Are we written in the sand - By CHERiSH ♡ and Clarity September 12, 2019 at 01:14:10 PM
- I am the nightmare that became reality - By Ruger September 30, 2019 at 11:19:52 PM
- Are we written in the sand - By CHERiSH ♡ and Clarity October 15, 2019 at 01:14:18 AM
- The nightmare that became reality - By Ruger November 8, 2019 at 04:08:47 AM
- Are we written in the sand - By CHERiSH ♡ and Clarity October 15, 2019 at 01:14:18 AM
- I am the nightmare that became reality - By Ruger September 30, 2019 at 11:19:52 PM
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