07-22-2016, 05:59 PM
It was not often that the sound of a horse could be compared to a predator. Big cats have roars, wolves have growls, sharks have their teeth... all these powerful creatures have the means to back up their status as natural born killers. Horses are flight animals; they would rather run than fight for their safety. At least, the majority.
Neoma was certain she was not the only mare that was willing to fight instead of run, but was certain she was one of the few that enjoyed it. Her blue roan coat was covered in bite marks and dirt shaped like hooves; wounds that showed how she had been treated when she'd thrown off an eager stallion here in the field. One that didn't necessarily want to claim her, but desired her for other means. The blue roan had a large bubble of personal space, and when some horse invaded it, they were quick to be sorry.
Except those persistent ones, damn them.
Her body ached all over; her own muzzle was speckled with drops of blood, a display that she hadn't been the only one to break skin in recent battles. Horse's teeth weren't that sharp, and not meant to really break skin, but nature had its way, especially when horse fights evolved from self-defense to means of killing to survive.
The most Neoma had done herself were bite marks good enough to break the skin, but nothing serious, which explained the lack of blood. The bite marks on her body weren't oozing, as they weren't deep, but the sheer number was a different story. Most of them were older, had already healed, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt.
To accompany all that, the mare's front left leg hurt a great deal. She was sure she hadn't sprained it or anything, which meant she couldn't walk. The cut along the front side was a whole deal by itself. It wasn't deep, but considering it had been a pretty sharp tree branch poking from the ground that had sliced her, Neoma was surprised the wound wasn't any worse.
The mare heaved a great sigh as she continued limping through the grass, ignoring the trail of blood she left behind as the blades brushed against the lesion on her leg. Her eyes were focused on the large pond in the distance; she desperately needed to soak her leg, if not her whole body, depending on the depth of the pond. The whole time she made her way there, her eyes constantly scanned the vast field around her.
Her eyes spotted cliques of mares here and there, as well as stallions flitting between them to see which mares they wanted to claim next. Neoma made sure to stay well away from them all, intending on not becoming a stallion's next prey that day. She kept to the tall grass, weaving through the trees when she could to confine herself to the darkness as a means of camouflage.
Once she reached the lake, her guard went down just slightly as the mare expressed her relief. Now that she was here, she could see that it wasn't deep enough to soak her body, but her leg would not be a problem. The mare limped into the water, grimacing the whole time as the freezing liquid caused her lesion to sting.
A couple of times until she got used to the temperature, she lifted her leg in and out of the water. It was after about ten minutes her wound got accustomed to its temperature, and she kept her leg down, sighing in relief as the water washed over her wound. Keeping her ears up, muscles tense, she lowered her head and cautiously lapped at the water, her tail swishing back and forth to deter the flies buzzing around her.
Neoma was certain she was not the only mare that was willing to fight instead of run, but was certain she was one of the few that enjoyed it. Her blue roan coat was covered in bite marks and dirt shaped like hooves; wounds that showed how she had been treated when she'd thrown off an eager stallion here in the field. One that didn't necessarily want to claim her, but desired her for other means. The blue roan had a large bubble of personal space, and when some horse invaded it, they were quick to be sorry.
Except those persistent ones, damn them.
Her body ached all over; her own muzzle was speckled with drops of blood, a display that she hadn't been the only one to break skin in recent battles. Horse's teeth weren't that sharp, and not meant to really break skin, but nature had its way, especially when horse fights evolved from self-defense to means of killing to survive.
The most Neoma had done herself were bite marks good enough to break the skin, but nothing serious, which explained the lack of blood. The bite marks on her body weren't oozing, as they weren't deep, but the sheer number was a different story. Most of them were older, had already healed, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt.
To accompany all that, the mare's front left leg hurt a great deal. She was sure she hadn't sprained it or anything, which meant she couldn't walk. The cut along the front side was a whole deal by itself. It wasn't deep, but considering it had been a pretty sharp tree branch poking from the ground that had sliced her, Neoma was surprised the wound wasn't any worse.
The mare heaved a great sigh as she continued limping through the grass, ignoring the trail of blood she left behind as the blades brushed against the lesion on her leg. Her eyes were focused on the large pond in the distance; she desperately needed to soak her leg, if not her whole body, depending on the depth of the pond. The whole time she made her way there, her eyes constantly scanned the vast field around her.
Her eyes spotted cliques of mares here and there, as well as stallions flitting between them to see which mares they wanted to claim next. Neoma made sure to stay well away from them all, intending on not becoming a stallion's next prey that day. She kept to the tall grass, weaving through the trees when she could to confine herself to the darkness as a means of camouflage.
Once she reached the lake, her guard went down just slightly as the mare expressed her relief. Now that she was here, she could see that it wasn't deep enough to soak her body, but her leg would not be a problem. The mare limped into the water, grimacing the whole time as the freezing liquid caused her lesion to sting.
A couple of times until she got used to the temperature, she lifted her leg in and out of the water. It was after about ten minutes her wound got accustomed to its temperature, and she kept her leg down, sighing in relief as the water washed over her wound. Keeping her ears up, muscles tense, she lowered her head and cautiously lapped at the water, her tail swishing back and forth to deter the flies buzzing around her.