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|  Onderwerp: [ENG] the lost and insincere ma 10 sep 2012 - 0:24 | |
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She was not quite in a hurry. Rather slowly the rank mare followed her trail to the lower fields. She was nothing special to look at. A small body, about 1.55 high, a rather common bay coat. Beauty didn't seem to be thing she was worried about. Her mane were kind of entangled, her fur dusty, hooves dry and a bit cleaved. Her greenblue eyes were probably the prettiest part about her – if they didn't look so cold. This was a personality who had seen things she would never talk about – and she would probably kill you for asking.
Her breath was regularly, her step even. She seemed to be a bit tense, but it could also be she was just alert. Her ears were pointed aside, her eyes quickly skimmed the woods. Stories were whispered about these woods. Stories she would rather not believe, but she would be a fool to not keep them in mind. She reminded the raspy, old voice which told her about these monsters which were believed to hide behind the dark trees. She, herself, didn't know what to believe. However, she could almost feel the thick, tensed air, which made her shudder. It felt like it crept underneath her skin, right into her bloodstream.
A shiver forced itself along her spine and she shook her head. Suddenly cold she raised her speed. She should find the open fields before the night would fall. After all she wouldn't have survived her first years if she hadn't listen to her instinct – and now her instinct was telling her not to rest inside these woods. It told her there was something out there. She might wait to hear it move, but then, it might kill here too. She was way too young to die.
Tensed up she forced her body from a walk to a canter. It was not her style to get nervous, but she couldn't get the ghost-stories out of her mind. A small gasp escaped from her lips when another horse crossed her way. In less then a second she stood still. Suspicious, maybe even a little paranoid she looked at the other horse. Her small, dark ears where pointed backwards, her small head held high. She stood up in pride, and if she were afraid, she didn't show it. 'Who are you.' She made it sound like a command: something you had to answer because she told you so – and not because she was interested.
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