06-08-2015, 11:48 AM
Though still young, Ephrelle is determined to become the epitome of what it means to be an Amazon. She has no desire for power (and is thus the perfect counterpart to Nayl), but does possess an extraordinary amount of determination. To build up her political acumen she’s taken to talking to anyone she finds – thus far that’s been a single mare in the Meadow.
With no guidance on how exactly one ‘trains’ for the army, Ephrelle has taken to running – full speed – through the Jungle until she all but collapses with exhaustion. She jumps over felled trees and weaves between dangling lianas, improving her agility as well as her endurance.
She has just finished one such run when Wrynn finds her.
Ephrelle is lying on her side in the stream, enjoying the cool trickle of water last her legs while she watches a trail of ants march past on the shore. She doesn’t immediately jump to her feet at the arrival of another horse, but she does stand, taking some time to stretch out her legs and neck as she does so. “That’s okay,” replies the black filly as she shakes her wet mane from her eyes. No longer the floppy foal mane, it grows longer every day, and is hard to keep straight. “Not a lot of people come out this far, I don’t think.”
With her own shares of bumps and scrapes from running, Ephrelle’s eyes go immediately to the wounds on her bay companion. “What happened to you?” She asks, wondering if perhaps Wrynn has been up to the same thing that she has. Perhaps they can be running partners, she thinks with a smile; that sounds much more fun than running alone.
With no guidance on how exactly one ‘trains’ for the army, Ephrelle has taken to running – full speed – through the Jungle until she all but collapses with exhaustion. She jumps over felled trees and weaves between dangling lianas, improving her agility as well as her endurance.
She has just finished one such run when Wrynn finds her.
Ephrelle is lying on her side in the stream, enjoying the cool trickle of water last her legs while she watches a trail of ants march past on the shore. She doesn’t immediately jump to her feet at the arrival of another horse, but she does stand, taking some time to stretch out her legs and neck as she does so. “That’s okay,” replies the black filly as she shakes her wet mane from her eyes. No longer the floppy foal mane, it grows longer every day, and is hard to keep straight. “Not a lot of people come out this far, I don’t think.”
With her own shares of bumps and scrapes from running, Ephrelle’s eyes go immediately to the wounds on her bay companion. “What happened to you?” She asks, wondering if perhaps Wrynn has been up to the same thing that she has. Perhaps they can be running partners, she thinks with a smile; that sounds much more fun than running alone.
ephrelle
yearling vithiraki and charoki of the amazons