06-29-2016, 03:18 PM
It happens during one of those rare moments that she spent in the Tundra. Before she can even realise what is happening, she can already see the well-known ice covered lands far beneath her, hooves lo longer touching solid ground. Igni doesn’t know what it is that holds her and neither does she care about the fact that her sides are pressed up against another’s. It matters even less that kicks and scratches those others as she struggles to break free from the unknown hold. Her protesting – and fearful – whinny echo’s through the mountains of her home, as she’s carried away further and further. She’s only a child, only having been born last spring and the next one still had to show itself, and the panic, fear and the strange and unfamiliar situation drives her into a trembling mess before she passes out.
Lately she had been away than home more often and although she loved the icy land, she felt constricted and bound. The blue roan child could be quite rebellious and stubborn, simply refusing to live the life that her parents – or more like her father – wanted her to live. Her mother probably knew of her behaviour and Igni was pretty sure that Roan would see her daughter’s future differently, but the bay roan mare was simply too weak to mingle herself in the tiring battle with her young child. Ever since her birth her mother had been weak and sickish, staying inside the sauna cave most of the time and only going out to get a bit of fresh air. That simply wasn’t enough for Igni. She longed for a challenge, to play freely and roughly with the boys and without the adults stepping in to calm their game.
That was exactly why she snuck out to the playground. Her parents weren’t the ones watching over her and the other children there and she could play as roughly and fiery as she wanted. She could freely run, race, chase, tag and romp. Nobody would stop or reprimand or scold her. At the playground Igni could be whoever she wanted to be, and she couldn’t at home. Her father wanted her to be a modest and polite girl, who would calmly and pleasantly converse with others, but it was his passion that burned inside her.
She had just been on her way back home, walking back towards the cave her mother rested in, ready to settle beside her parents for the night. Her hoof prints left a trail in the snow and her fuzzy coat had gotten drenched by the snow that fell from the dark clouds. And then the trail stopped, as she got snatched away. If her parents wouldn’t have already missed her, they sure would now.
Unfamiliar scents tickle her nose, or is it the straw that covers the ground of her small cage? She sneezes before she can take anything else in. Igni sits up on instinct, moving away from the tickling and strange yellowish grass like things. Her eyes are still a bit teary and she blinks to clear her gaze, her confused gaze that is. She doesn’t recognize anything. Nothing she sees, nor the scents and definitely not the pained cries. It took her a few seconds to figure out the sound, but once the realisation hits her she’s up on her feet. And while she spins around herself, messing up her stable and turning it into a mess right away, she calls out for her parents, desperately.
For a short second she stands still, listening to the cave’s echo of her call, but not long enough to wait until the shrill and high pitched sound is gone. Instead she calls again and starts restlessly walking around in circles again, pressing up against the sides of her steel and wooden cage. She’s too small. Not only because of her youth, but also because of her lineage. Neither Brynmor or Roan was tall, therefor their offspring isn’t either. Never had Igni had trouble with her short height, but right now she would have to rear or jump to be able to cast a clear gaze into the hallway of her prison.
By the time she comes to a halt her nostrils are wide open and her sides rise and fall with every heavy breath. Her panicked and restless walking has left her tired, but even if she stands still in a far corner of her cage, she keeps looking around skittishly. The white of her eyes is showing, a clear sign of her distressed state – in case the messed up stall, sweaty coat and uncontrollable trembling of her body weren’t already. It is the fatigue that takes away her consciousness this time and although Igni desperately tries to fight it, it’s a battle she loses almost instantly.
The next day passes in a similar way. With a lot of calling out for her parents and restless walking. The pained cries never die and neither does strange burning smell. The sounds are slightly hushed by the soothing – or at least they tried – of her unknown neighbours and the smell is somewhat diminished by the sweet scent of the hay. She had nibbled on it, she hadn’t touched the grains however. The water had been used plenty, but it wasn’t as nutritious as the milk her mother provided her. She had eaten, but it clearly wasn’t enough to make up for everything she had lost in such a short time. Wasting too much energy on walking around in panic.
It is during the second day that she suddenly isn’t able to move anymore. Her body is trembling, uncontrollably that is. Just like she’s immobilized. Her scared and fearful eyes are on the wooden and steal door that slowly opens. Igni is as small as she could’ve made herself while standing, head dipped towards the ground and ears pinned back. She would’ve been snorting loudly if she would’ve still had full control of her body (and of course she would’ve stood in the far corner, instead of somewhere in the middle of the mess she’d made).
~*~*~
Lately she had been away than home more often and although she loved the icy land, she felt constricted and bound. The blue roan child could be quite rebellious and stubborn, simply refusing to live the life that her parents – or more like her father – wanted her to live. Her mother probably knew of her behaviour and Igni was pretty sure that Roan would see her daughter’s future differently, but the bay roan mare was simply too weak to mingle herself in the tiring battle with her young child. Ever since her birth her mother had been weak and sickish, staying inside the sauna cave most of the time and only going out to get a bit of fresh air. That simply wasn’t enough for Igni. She longed for a challenge, to play freely and roughly with the boys and without the adults stepping in to calm their game.
That was exactly why she snuck out to the playground. Her parents weren’t the ones watching over her and the other children there and she could play as roughly and fiery as she wanted. She could freely run, race, chase, tag and romp. Nobody would stop or reprimand or scold her. At the playground Igni could be whoever she wanted to be, and she couldn’t at home. Her father wanted her to be a modest and polite girl, who would calmly and pleasantly converse with others, but it was his passion that burned inside her.
She had just been on her way back home, walking back towards the cave her mother rested in, ready to settle beside her parents for the night. Her hoof prints left a trail in the snow and her fuzzy coat had gotten drenched by the snow that fell from the dark clouds. And then the trail stopped, as she got snatched away. If her parents wouldn’t have already missed her, they sure would now.
~*~*~
Unfamiliar scents tickle her nose, or is it the straw that covers the ground of her small cage? She sneezes before she can take anything else in. Igni sits up on instinct, moving away from the tickling and strange yellowish grass like things. Her eyes are still a bit teary and she blinks to clear her gaze, her confused gaze that is. She doesn’t recognize anything. Nothing she sees, nor the scents and definitely not the pained cries. It took her a few seconds to figure out the sound, but once the realisation hits her she’s up on her feet. And while she spins around herself, messing up her stable and turning it into a mess right away, she calls out for her parents, desperately.
For a short second she stands still, listening to the cave’s echo of her call, but not long enough to wait until the shrill and high pitched sound is gone. Instead she calls again and starts restlessly walking around in circles again, pressing up against the sides of her steel and wooden cage. She’s too small. Not only because of her youth, but also because of her lineage. Neither Brynmor or Roan was tall, therefor their offspring isn’t either. Never had Igni had trouble with her short height, but right now she would have to rear or jump to be able to cast a clear gaze into the hallway of her prison.
By the time she comes to a halt her nostrils are wide open and her sides rise and fall with every heavy breath. Her panicked and restless walking has left her tired, but even if she stands still in a far corner of her cage, she keeps looking around skittishly. The white of her eyes is showing, a clear sign of her distressed state – in case the messed up stall, sweaty coat and uncontrollable trembling of her body weren’t already. It is the fatigue that takes away her consciousness this time and although Igni desperately tries to fight it, it’s a battle she loses almost instantly.
The next day passes in a similar way. With a lot of calling out for her parents and restless walking. The pained cries never die and neither does strange burning smell. The sounds are slightly hushed by the soothing – or at least they tried – of her unknown neighbours and the smell is somewhat diminished by the sweet scent of the hay. She had nibbled on it, she hadn’t touched the grains however. The water had been used plenty, but it wasn’t as nutritious as the milk her mother provided her. She had eaten, but it clearly wasn’t enough to make up for everything she had lost in such a short time. Wasting too much energy on walking around in panic.
~*~*~
It is during the second day that she suddenly isn’t able to move anymore. Her body is trembling, uncontrollably that is. Just like she’s immobilized. Her scared and fearful eyes are on the wooden and steal door that slowly opens. Igni is as small as she could’ve made herself while standing, head dipped towards the ground and ears pinned back. She would’ve been snorting loudly if she would’ve still had full control of her body (and of course she would’ve stood in the far corner, instead of somewhere in the middle of the mess she’d made).