04-16-2017, 07:52 PM
Bristol had heard her father talk about this new place, this Lake, and had immediately demanded a chance to go. The idea of a Kingdom just of foals a young horses sounded great – even though she is barely past weaning age, not yet six months old. Her father had smile and said she could certainly visit, but that he thought she was a little young to stay by herself. The bay filly had demanded a task to prove her readiness, and he had looked at her for a long time before agreeing that if she recruited someone to the Lake herself, perhaps she was old enough to stay there.
Of course, her efforts were greatly hampered by the fact that she isn’t allowed to go anywhere but Nerine and the Playground by herself, but then Brennen takes a trip to the Field, and so she tags along with great enthusiasm, buoyed even higher when she spots a young mare, older than herself but not old, talking to two mares not far from the young stallion her father has chosen to talk to. Half running, half flying on dark feathered wings, she bounds over to them and grins, waiting for a pause before she babbles her introduction excitedly.
“Hi! I’m Bristol, have you already introduced yourself? Sorry I’m late,” she glances at the mare with the pretty wings and at the paint before back to the girl, dark and tall and everything Bristol wants to be when she grows up. “I’m from Nerine, which is nice, but my dad is helping to start a place just for foals and young horses to be safe and learn everything they want to know before they are adults, and do training for whatever they want to be, and I was wondering if you wanted to go? It’s green and there’s this beautiful lake and I think you’d really like it.”
Of course, her efforts were greatly hampered by the fact that she isn’t allowed to go anywhere but Nerine and the Playground by herself, but then Brennen takes a trip to the Field, and so she tags along with great enthusiasm, buoyed even higher when she spots a young mare, older than herself but not old, talking to two mares not far from the young stallion her father has chosen to talk to. Half running, half flying on dark feathered wings, she bounds over to them and grins, waiting for a pause before she babbles her introduction excitedly.
“Hi! I’m Bristol, have you already introduced yourself? Sorry I’m late,” she glances at the mare with the pretty wings and at the paint before back to the girl, dark and tall and everything Bristol wants to be when she grows up. “I’m from Nerine, which is nice, but my dad is helping to start a place just for foals and young horses to be safe and learn everything they want to know before they are adults, and do training for whatever they want to be, and I was wondering if you wanted to go? It’s green and there’s this beautiful lake and I think you’d really like it.”