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[Minette]

She didn't know how she'd ended up here. The mountains, wreathed in smoke, painted an eerily beautiful background to her despair. All she had been looking for was a home. A home, and how had she ended up here? Her flanks heaved with exertion. She couldn't remember. Remember. She was running, had been running, from something. Whatever it was wasn't here but with a glance she knew this valley wasn't safe either. Her wide brown eyes glittered in the predawn moonlight, the beams catching the pale gray of her coat and announcing her presence like a beacon. She wished desperately that she could hide. This place felt wrong, unsettled. But she was tired and her hooves would take her no further. She would be an unsheltered flower in a field, ready to be plucked. Prey. If she was being watched, one might notice the moment when she gave up. Weariness engulfed her and she lowered her head to rest, surrender in every line of her lithe body. She was tiny, with speckles of darker gray and black along her coat, and strings of yellow and cream, white and gray, tangled in her mane and tail. She was lovely, a tiny doll, and completely alone.

ooc: I kind of left it open ended so do what you will! ;-) Just no death, but everything else is pretty much fine.