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11-17-2013, 04:46 PM
A light figure sauntered through the forest. It was Eiskalt, a silver grulla stallion with a shaggy coat and a rugged mane and tail. He somehow had left the mountains that he called home and wandered into this strange wooded area. The confused horse looked around, taking note of all of his surroundings. He'd never seen a forest before. His coat was coated in dried mud after a recent roll. He stopped and listened to a faint howling wind, his short ears pricked forward. The dirty horse scanned the area for any other herbivores or predators before lowering his head to graze on the short fresh grass.
He looked truly wild. He had alert light gray eyes, unclean coat, ragged and dull mane and tail, muddy hooves and a truly savage facial expression. It was his signature look; he looked like this all the time. Eiskalt stabbed at the ground with one of those muddy hooves, bringing up old dead leaves to get to more grass. He brushed the shards out of the way with his muzzle and continued to eat.
He wasn't alone, but felt completely isolated. He was oblivious to the fact that other equines were also in the forest. On occasion he'd lift his head to see if anyone was there; usually, if there was anyone, he'd take off running. If they were to get close, he'd turn into a savage beast right away. Eiskalt wasn't friendly; he wasn't programmed to socialize. He was to survive and carry out his quiet life until it was his time to depart.
The feral man shook his mane and smashed leaves away. After a few more bites of grass, he raised his head and began to move his stiff legs. He had decided that he had eaten enough. He stretched slightly and then began to wander across the forest floor at a slow pace, his head low and relaxed. Nobody was in sight, so he felt that he had no need to run.
He looked truly wild. He had alert light gray eyes, unclean coat, ragged and dull mane and tail, muddy hooves and a truly savage facial expression. It was his signature look; he looked like this all the time. Eiskalt stabbed at the ground with one of those muddy hooves, bringing up old dead leaves to get to more grass. He brushed the shards out of the way with his muzzle and continued to eat.
He wasn't alone, but felt completely isolated. He was oblivious to the fact that other equines were also in the forest. On occasion he'd lift his head to see if anyone was there; usually, if there was anyone, he'd take off running. If they were to get close, he'd turn into a savage beast right away. Eiskalt wasn't friendly; he wasn't programmed to socialize. He was to survive and carry out his quiet life until it was his time to depart.
The feral man shook his mane and smashed leaves away. After a few more bites of grass, he raised his head and began to move his stiff legs. He had decided that he had eaten enough. He stretched slightly and then began to wander across the forest floor at a slow pace, his head low and relaxed. Nobody was in sight, so he felt that he had no need to run.
