07-08-2017, 04:13 PM
Beqanna in the winter was a marvelous sight, there was no match for the ivory blanketed lands. When the trees shed there leaves, and the flurries began to fall Amun arrived. The pale stallion approached the field , head low to avoid the cool breeze that wafted through the crisp night air.
The one eye he was able to see out of drifted to the sky above him, white puffs fell into his mane, stars glinting off the snow below him that crunched as he walked. Others mingled about the field, quiet in the nights presence. Few (like he) were moving about, nosing around for food, or twisting about to find warmth.
Thankfully, the pale stud did not find this hard. The layers of fur he possessed kept him fairly warm in the colder months of the year, that and he reveled in the cold.
When he finally found a comfortable place to rest, he turned his head. He lipped softly as his scarred forelegs , grimacing at the sight of them. It was no lie, he had a fighting problem.
His pale body was a wire work of scars. Many of them wrapped around his hind legs and extended there tendrils to his back. Though the worst of all existed on his face.
The left side of his profile was horrendous, the once beautiful blue orb it possessed a pale violet. Blind. Useless. The scar that ran across the flesh around it a story long since quiet.
Despite this he was aware, too keen on his surroundings for his own good. He had learned to live around his issue, the eye he could still see out of guiding the pale one along.
Tendrils curled around his back leg, one going limp as he leaned wearily against a dying willow. It was nice here, quiet, remote. A place he could see himself liking.
The one eye he was able to see out of drifted to the sky above him, white puffs fell into his mane, stars glinting off the snow below him that crunched as he walked. Others mingled about the field, quiet in the nights presence. Few (like he) were moving about, nosing around for food, or twisting about to find warmth.
Thankfully, the pale stud did not find this hard. The layers of fur he possessed kept him fairly warm in the colder months of the year, that and he reveled in the cold.
When he finally found a comfortable place to rest, he turned his head. He lipped softly as his scarred forelegs , grimacing at the sight of them. It was no lie, he had a fighting problem.
His pale body was a wire work of scars. Many of them wrapped around his hind legs and extended there tendrils to his back. Though the worst of all existed on his face.
The left side of his profile was horrendous, the once beautiful blue orb it possessed a pale violet. Blind. Useless. The scar that ran across the flesh around it a story long since quiet.
Despite this he was aware, too keen on his surroundings for his own good. He had learned to live around his issue, the eye he could still see out of guiding the pale one along.
Tendrils curled around his back leg, one going limp as he leaned wearily against a dying willow. It was nice here, quiet, remote. A place he could see himself liking.