11-22-2015, 11:04 AM
How many times had she been here? She couldn't remember...ten? Ten thousand? Did it even matter? The end result was always the same, she sat back and watched as years passed and faces faded away while she remained the same. Ever unchanged by time. Her odd, glittering coat had not lost it's shimmer through the eons, but her personality had. A far cry from the boisterous, self absorbed filly she'd once been she was not reserved. Quiet. Calculating. Though she had changed, her interest in the Field, in Beqanna, had not. So here she was, for the ten thousandth time. Or was it ten thousand and one?
The Field during this time of the year was not something she usually tolerated well, the smell alone was usually enough to keep her at bay. Estrus scorched the air, it's putrid stench permeating everything. It was vomit inducing, but still she was here. She wondered if it was due to her secret tryst. The one with the Tundra stallion, which she did not yet know the outcome of. Foolish of her to, after all these years, risk procreation. She had no clue how to parent. She'd never had one. Not that it mattered. Her bay and white coat hinted of a mother she'd never known, save for the sheen to them, the actual glitter they emitted. That, told of an odd gift from a sire she'd never know as her own, but whom she'd heard horror stories of. Odd lineage hers. One, if she were lucky, she'd never have a chance, or reason, to claim.
She didn't bother to look around. She knew the scenery well enough. Cliques of horses gathered in groups dotting the sea of green. Some magnificent, others plain, it didn't matter. Everyone was here for the same thing. To eat, or be eaten, by herds or kingdoms. Such was the way of life in the Field, and even she was not immune
.
katastrophe
a walking disaster