It was the voices that kept her up at night.
Through the turmoil, rage, and deception, it had always been the voices. They were crawling up her flesh and out her ears, twisting around her neck and strangling her to death. The voices were what caught up to her. Among the chaotic spin of life around her, it had always been the voices, yet it was only now that someone had taken action. It had started out with a simple gesture, a nip here and there upon the flank of the young mare. Maybe a shove or two at the creek when she went to drink, yet with every push and shove came the bitterness. A herd that was meant to love her, care for her, and even fight for her was the one pushing her over the edge of the cliff just waiting to see her fall. The gestures escalated into what seemed like a treacherous battle, leaving her bloodied and broken upon a field with no one. Yet with the loneliness, she always found her way back to the herd that no longer gave a crap about the young mare. Sage was the past.
And she soon found that out.
After what seemed like ages, the mare was finally pushed away from what she had called daily life. The stallion had enough of the mare and her supposed 'crazy' antics. She spoke to herself; therefore, according to her herd, she wasn't fit for them. They were rulers of the desert. They didn't need her. They didn't want her. So after being beaten, bitten, and scarred, Saige finally understood the message. She wasn't welcomed there. Nothing but the best for her past herd, so she ran. After days of being driven into the ground like the sand under their hooves, she ran. Her body weak, her stomach empty, she ran. Away from her family. Away from her herd. And away from her home. Only that she anticipated the worst.
You're not worthy to stay with them, Saige. The voices were there, though; keeping the young mare company along the way as she dragged herself over what seemed like ruins. Her flank, along with bits and pieces of her body, was covered with dried blood, the dark red standing out upon her cremello coat. Her head shook, a snort coming from her nose as she tried to direct her attention away from anything. She wasn't ready for this. For any of this. She wasn't sure what to do. Whether it was the sun radiating upon her body, or the grumbling of her stomach, she wasn't ready for any of what was to come and she knew that. You'll never be ready. She bit at the air, shaking her head more as she stomped in anger, the voices taunting her once again. At the moment, she was ready to reply out loud. She was ready to lash out at nothing, to seek out the voices and bite the hides of the ones who dared to taunt her, yet that is what got her into this mess in the first place. Saige knew that it was quite possible nobody would take her into their herd. She was, dared she say it, defected. She knew that others didn't take kindly to those who were different, especially in an open setting where the weak were useless. She wanted nothing but to go back to her own herd, but there was nothing left for her there. Nothing but bitter faces and teeth ready to lash out upon her thin body.
So she went on, her eyes glancing over the green grass and the willowy trees, as her nimble legs seemed almost alien-like out in the different scene. Her breed wasn't used to this, yet she would have to be now. And she knew this clearly as she continued on her way. Finally she dipped her head, gathering a small bit of grass within her mouth before chewing lightly, her hooves softly dragging over the greenery as she munched.
No one will take you, Saige. You're delusional, dearie.
Cackles rose within her head. The voices mocking her loudly, taking over her sense of hearing. Her hooves kicked at the moment, her head shaking wildly before she glanced up at the open. She silently wished for something more. Something to better herself, yet her wishes were never answered.
And they never will be.