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04-19-2013, 09:47 PM
The graceful mare stood in the dark forest, almost glowing in comparison to the darkness around her. She was certainly a pretty mare, her coat a beautiful deep golden color, shimmering softly. Her mane and tail were a silky golden cream, falling down in a lush waterfall. Parts of her mane were slightly different shades, but the whole thing was studded the same color. Her tail was flowing and followed like mist, making it seem even paler. There where swirls on her flank, stripped gold with astounding intricate patters. Altogether, the mare and her stance seemed like a pretty scene. But there was something drawing about the mare- perhaps it was her eyes. They were soft and kind, pretty in their own way. They were bright gold, but pupil-less.
Kymhari enjoyed being herself. She loved how her skin held her silky fibers, how she practically never aged, her heightened senses. But she how she could barely control her happiness, even around her own company. She didn't like these dark environments though. The mare journeyed out into the sun as much as possible. She had entered this foreign place and because of her lack of knowledge of it, she was confined to this forest.
"It's very pretty, don't you think?" She asked, not really to anyone in particular. She yearned for the company of another horse, but not many dared to venture into this forest. Why? She was off the path and lost. If she walked forward she'd get stuck between two trees. If she went back she'd get tangled in vines and sticks. If she went to the left or right it was dark. So she stayed in the lowly spot.
There were many, many legends about gods, some ridiculously untrue. She wouldn't know, for she hadn't seen any. But she belonged to a few horses that didn't feast on the blood of there kind, but seemed to thrive with equality and die with racism. All the mare had ever wanted to do was help. When they were little, her family, had discouraged her. When she grew older, more trouble grew. She was bound with chains and guarded well, but that was before she ran for her life. She is forced to where a leonine tail and cloven hooves. Her slightly feathered hocks were firmly planted as she hoped someone could see the flight-less bird caught in distress.
Kymhari enjoyed being herself. She loved how her skin held her silky fibers, how she practically never aged, her heightened senses. But she how she could barely control her happiness, even around her own company. She didn't like these dark environments though. The mare journeyed out into the sun as much as possible. She had entered this foreign place and because of her lack of knowledge of it, she was confined to this forest.
"It's very pretty, don't you think?" She asked, not really to anyone in particular. She yearned for the company of another horse, but not many dared to venture into this forest. Why? She was off the path and lost. If she walked forward she'd get stuck between two trees. If she went back she'd get tangled in vines and sticks. If she went to the left or right it was dark. So she stayed in the lowly spot.
There were many, many legends about gods, some ridiculously untrue. She wouldn't know, for she hadn't seen any. But she belonged to a few horses that didn't feast on the blood of there kind, but seemed to thrive with equality and die with racism. All the mare had ever wanted to do was help. When they were little, her family, had discouraged her. When she grew older, more trouble grew. She was bound with chains and guarded well, but that was before she ran for her life. She is forced to where a leonine tail and cloven hooves. Her slightly feathered hocks were firmly planted as she hoped someone could see the flight-less bird caught in distress.
