Bellisma

The sound of fast approaching, galloping hoofbeats carried through the air, but strangely absent was the feel of rumbling earth. Stranger still was the noise of a furiously rattling chain accompanying the rhythm of the gallop. A flash of golden copper revealed an impossibly petite blur crashing through the trees. The form was obviously feminine, despite being a blur from her absurd speed.

The swiftness that carried her slight frame through the trees was quite a paradox, for her movement was graceful and athletic, but she ran so recklessly that low tree branches and shrubs whipped against her golden hide. Some she hit with so much force that angry welts immediately sprouted on her delicate skin, thin lines of crimson blood welling to the surface.

Even with the coolness trapped by the trees in the early morning- the sun has barely broken the horizon- her neck had a thick lather, staining the golden to a dark copper. One had to stare to ensure that they saw her hooves touch the ground (for she seemed to fly), and it was this inspection of her legs that revealed the origin of the curious chain noise.

Whipping around her hind legs what a short, thick chain. Clearly attached to her, it hit her slender legs with repeated, devastating blows. But the mare, plainly fleeing as her demeanor suggested, paid it as little attention as she did the branches lashing her skin.

As she ran further into the woods- and away from whatever chased her- the metal clatter began to fade. A closer scrutiny of her shackles showed that they, too, began to fade away. Perhaps it was the magic of the threshold, or perhaps Bellisma had finally reached the edges of her enslavers' range.

Regardless, the chain was such a commonplace for this mare that she ran for a good while longer, the sun almost clear of the horizon, before she began to realize her freedom. And it was only a large pond, more of a mud pit since the heat of Tallsun had mostly dried it, that drew her mind away from her mad dash and to her surroundings.

Her momentum carried her well into the mud, sending small clods of it spraying, before the sucking sludge trapped her legs and sent her violently skidding to a halt. The woods held its' breath collectively- surely one so delicate could not survive such a tumble!

The golden doll laid on her side, motionless in the muck for a few moments. Her muscles screaming for oxygen from their exertions broke through her daze, and the woods let out a collective breath as her ribcage started rapidly moving in heaving breaths.

It was only now that one could finally see her face, and it was entirely worth the wait. Her features were sculpted by ancestry and beauty. The lines were graceful, the color free of markings. The only blemish was the defeat she wore so plainly, and still she was devastatingly beautiful, even while laying in mud.

Silently, she started taking mental note of her injuries, wondering what her punishment would be for each mark she acquired during her dash. Her masters treasured her beauty and she knew she would pay a price for each cut. The only scars they seemed not to mind were the ones left in her mind and on her back leg from the chain-

Her eyes- a lovely green and framed by thick lashes- popped open and she let out a rush of air in a shocked snort. Head raised from the mud as she bent to look at her hind legs. Yes, they were torn and leaking blood, but they were free. Chain-less. Free.

She froze, eyes wide, face blank, flanks still heaving. "No," a breathless whisper escaped her soft lips. Was this a trick? She glanced around, waiting for the leer and laugh she knew so well to break through the birdsongs. She waited longer, still. But it never came.

Her shrill whinny sliced through the birdsongs instead as she voiced the relief and exhilaration that was on her expressive face. She threw herself back in the mud, and started to roll. Perhaps not the wisest of choices given her numerous, bleeding cuts. But it had been so long since she had been allowed to be dirty, muddy, or... well anything she wanted. And right now she wanted to be filthy.

She whickered in delight as she scrubbed her back into the sludge, toothpick legs flailing in the air, and tender belly exposed. It had been years since she had allowed herself to be in such a vulnerable position. But I'm certain she didn't currently care.