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03-27-2013, 05:09 PM
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After he had his adventures for the day with his brothers, the blind draft wondered away. He was tired, and ready to get back to where he needed to go: the Foothills. He hoped he would be accepted, so he could live with some of his brothers. He needed them now, though they might have not known it. He was upset with himself for leaving them, and he was ashamed. He felt like a traitor, running away from a land in which meant everything to him. Upon his short walking on this day, he met a thorn bush. He stepped right on it with his left hoof, and though his hoof didn’t feel a thing, his leg sure did. The skin around his tender ankle felt the thorns tickle, and it tore some of the fur off. He yelped, trying to get himself out, but the bush wouldn’t let him go. The more he struggled, the deeper the thorns got into his skin. He was still yelping, and he started to cry it hurt so much. “Kipp! Kipp! Someone help me!” He yelled as loud as he could, still trying to get away from the thorn bush. Now he wished he could use magic, or had his companion even more, or just had something that would help him get out. He tried to use his horns to detach the vine that was wrapped around his leg, but he couldn’t get it off. He called again, wondering if there was anyone around, or if he was going to stay there and slowly bleed to death. "Talk." sxc.hu
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