01-26-2016, 03:22 AM
Winter was a cruel season, a beast in the opinion of many. Its frigid temperatures sent many animals scrambling for the safety of their dens, a large majority of them stocking up on food in order to survive while they remained within their homes for the next few days or so. There were other animals that didn't bother to collect food, and instead decided to enter a long sleep common to forest mammals. This 'hibernation' was welcomed by those that got to cherish its graceful embrace, but many were not fortunate enough for such a thing.
One animal that didn't get to enjoy hibernation's graces was the horse, a creature of elegance and power. Despite the cold weather season, on this particular day, a young filly was racing through the snow-covered meadow, doing her best to keep up with her rival while navigating her powerful limbs through the deep white powder.
Now, the thing the young horse was chasing wasn't really her rival, but Raxa welcomed any challenge she could face that would drive her to be even better than the day before. Today, she'd seen a large bird of prey, of what species she didn't know, flying over the snowy meadow, and resolved to chase after it, hoping to outrun it to show she was faster, even while restricted to the ground.
Raxa's lungs burned as she raced to keep up with the bird, who had seemed to notice her, yet didn't do anything against it. It simply continued to fly, and that spurred the brindled mare even more. Telling herself to increase her speed, she moved her legs at an even faster pace, her nostrils flaring from the effort her body was giving to face the bird's speed challenge.
Eventually, whether it seemed to grow bored or Raxa grew tired, the animal changed its flight pattern, heading off toward the trees in the distance. Raxa began to slow down, her chest heaving with exhaustion. Small puffs of air appeared around her nostrils with each breath she let out of her lungs, frigid drops of ice forming on the hairs of her chin due to the saliva coming from her mouth.
That had been a good run, the mare thought to herself. Even while she hadn't beaten the bird today, she was faster than the last time she'd tried to race him. Each day that passed, she could feel herself growing stronger, faster, and it pleased her. At only three years of age, Raxa knew she had to develop traits that would enable her survival.
After all, she knew she couldn't depend on the help of her parents. They made that very clear the day they'd rejected her for her 'odd' appearance.
I don't get what they think is wrong with me. So I don't really look like them, big deal. Dad didn't look like his parents... Deciding not to dwell on those thoughts, Raxa snorted in irritation, stamping a hoof before she resumed her trek, this time at a walk in order to calm down after that run just minutes ago.
As the mare wandered the snowy meadow, her muzzle was low to the ground, absentmindedly pushing the white powder aside in a search for food. Though there wasn't much, as the grass had most likely been killed off thanks to the cold beast of winter bearing down, there had to be something here. And if not, Raxa would just move on and find food elsewhere.
It was something she was used to; she'd been doing it since the day she'd started living off of wild food and not her mother's milk. Then again, there had been times before that too where the mare didn't seem keen on looking after her daughter.
Raxa felt sorry for the next offspring her parents would end up with, for if they looked anything like the roan brindled mare... well, she didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think of what would happen to the second offspring her parents would reject just for coat color.
But that was the way it was in the wild. If you didn't look strong, didn't get strong, you weren't accepted. And Raxa respected that; it was the way of nature, how things worked. But she'd been a strong filly, it was just her coloring that drew the stares.
She would be surprised if any horse one day took an interest in her, whether for the purposes of a friend, a mate, or a herd member, just so some stallion could brag he'd caught another mare. Not like Raxa would go down easy; she could put up a fight if need be, and wouldn't go easily.
Not like she imagined herself with a herd anyway though... in Raxa's mind, that was a useless thought. She'd long gotten used to the idea of living alone, but deep in the mare's mind, she was always telling herself that she didn't have to like such an idea.
One animal that didn't get to enjoy hibernation's graces was the horse, a creature of elegance and power. Despite the cold weather season, on this particular day, a young filly was racing through the snow-covered meadow, doing her best to keep up with her rival while navigating her powerful limbs through the deep white powder.
Now, the thing the young horse was chasing wasn't really her rival, but Raxa welcomed any challenge she could face that would drive her to be even better than the day before. Today, she'd seen a large bird of prey, of what species she didn't know, flying over the snowy meadow, and resolved to chase after it, hoping to outrun it to show she was faster, even while restricted to the ground.
Raxa's lungs burned as she raced to keep up with the bird, who had seemed to notice her, yet didn't do anything against it. It simply continued to fly, and that spurred the brindled mare even more. Telling herself to increase her speed, she moved her legs at an even faster pace, her nostrils flaring from the effort her body was giving to face the bird's speed challenge.
Eventually, whether it seemed to grow bored or Raxa grew tired, the animal changed its flight pattern, heading off toward the trees in the distance. Raxa began to slow down, her chest heaving with exhaustion. Small puffs of air appeared around her nostrils with each breath she let out of her lungs, frigid drops of ice forming on the hairs of her chin due to the saliva coming from her mouth.
That had been a good run, the mare thought to herself. Even while she hadn't beaten the bird today, she was faster than the last time she'd tried to race him. Each day that passed, she could feel herself growing stronger, faster, and it pleased her. At only three years of age, Raxa knew she had to develop traits that would enable her survival.
After all, she knew she couldn't depend on the help of her parents. They made that very clear the day they'd rejected her for her 'odd' appearance.
I don't get what they think is wrong with me. So I don't really look like them, big deal. Dad didn't look like his parents... Deciding not to dwell on those thoughts, Raxa snorted in irritation, stamping a hoof before she resumed her trek, this time at a walk in order to calm down after that run just minutes ago.
As the mare wandered the snowy meadow, her muzzle was low to the ground, absentmindedly pushing the white powder aside in a search for food. Though there wasn't much, as the grass had most likely been killed off thanks to the cold beast of winter bearing down, there had to be something here. And if not, Raxa would just move on and find food elsewhere.
It was something she was used to; she'd been doing it since the day she'd started living off of wild food and not her mother's milk. Then again, there had been times before that too where the mare didn't seem keen on looking after her daughter.
Raxa felt sorry for the next offspring her parents would end up with, for if they looked anything like the roan brindled mare... well, she didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think of what would happen to the second offspring her parents would reject just for coat color.
But that was the way it was in the wild. If you didn't look strong, didn't get strong, you weren't accepted. And Raxa respected that; it was the way of nature, how things worked. But she'd been a strong filly, it was just her coloring that drew the stares.
She would be surprised if any horse one day took an interest in her, whether for the purposes of a friend, a mate, or a herd member, just so some stallion could brag he'd caught another mare. Not like Raxa would go down easy; she could put up a fight if need be, and wouldn't go easily.
Not like she imagined herself with a herd anyway though... in Raxa's mind, that was a useless thought. She'd long gotten used to the idea of living alone, but deep in the mare's mind, she was always telling herself that she didn't have to like such an idea.