08-29-2016, 02:34 AM
We're all drawn toward what's beautiful & broken
Autumn was Maus' favorite season. The warm air of summer would start to turn crisp and chill. The leaves would begin to change, breaking out in a brilliant, fiery display of oranges, reds and yellows. It was a magnificent metamorphosis for the land, one that the mousey grey minx loved to watch unfold. Unfortunately, shortly after this transformation, another took place. The once beautiful colors of Fall would being to fade, the leaves would start to curl and turn a brittle brown before falling from the trees to the forest floor below. The cool air, once the perfect temperature, would start to turn colder and the sky, once painted in soft pastel shades of blue turned bleak and dreary. As beautiful as Autumn was, it paved the way from the darker side of old Mother Nature. Winter had Beqanna and Maus hated it with a burning passion.
Snow blanketed the land, covering up the once rolling green hills of The Field. The grulla mare allowed her ears to settle deeper within the warmth of her tangled black forelock. Her dark amber eyes bounced over the stark white landscape, her eyelids narrowing to show her distaste. While some referred to it was a winter wonderland, Maus imagined that it was what people were talking about when they said hell had frozen over. Winter was a cruel season and as much as she loathed its existence, deep down (though she would never openly admit it) the mouse colored mare knew it was necessary. The harshness of the season was ultimately a way to thin things out. Population control if you will. Those beings not strong enough to survive Old Man Winters icy tortures opened up space for new generations to thrive.
To make matters worse this season, Maus was pregnant. Her swollen barrel gave her condition away and caused a slight waddle to deform her normally fluid gait. That's what the grulla minx was doing on this cold day, waddling her way to The Field. She had recently joined The Jungle and wanting to earn her keep, she decided trying to recruit members would help earn some good graces. Sighing heavily Maus continues her trudge, her deep amber eyes washing over the barren, white landscape, the bodies of the other horses sticking out against the blank snowy canvas. A frigid gust of cold air hits the mare in the head on. It takes her breath away from a moment and in effort to shield herself, the grulla minx ducks her head down and to the left, tucking her chin in close to her chest. It's at this moment that she notices a gauge in the snow beside her.
Pausing a moment Maus examines the mark. It was inside the tracks made from another horse, slightly dirty from where an object had dug through the snow, hitting the earth beneath it. Curiosity was Maus' downfall and she found herself allowing her head to dip downward to get a closer look. What could have caused such odd tracks? The mouse colored mare doesn't get much time to ponder her thought, a sudden shout catches her attention, causing her head fly upward, her ears pivoting quickly towards its source. Not too far from her was bay overo mare calling out for someone. It doesn't take Maus long to notice that that the strange set of tracks she had been looking at led straight to her. Slightly worried, but mostly curious, the grulla mare continues forward, towards the distressed minx, reaching just moments after someone else.
Maus stops a respectable distance away, dipping her skull in greeting to the both of them before speaking "Have you lost someone?" she ask, her russian accented voice coming out in a wispy cloud of steam. "My name is Maus. Maybe I can help you?" she adds, her deep amber eyes casually flicking from the bay overo to the horse who stood beside her.
Snow blanketed the land, covering up the once rolling green hills of The Field. The grulla mare allowed her ears to settle deeper within the warmth of her tangled black forelock. Her dark amber eyes bounced over the stark white landscape, her eyelids narrowing to show her distaste. While some referred to it was a winter wonderland, Maus imagined that it was what people were talking about when they said hell had frozen over. Winter was a cruel season and as much as she loathed its existence, deep down (though she would never openly admit it) the mouse colored mare knew it was necessary. The harshness of the season was ultimately a way to thin things out. Population control if you will. Those beings not strong enough to survive Old Man Winters icy tortures opened up space for new generations to thrive.
To make matters worse this season, Maus was pregnant. Her swollen barrel gave her condition away and caused a slight waddle to deform her normally fluid gait. That's what the grulla minx was doing on this cold day, waddling her way to The Field. She had recently joined The Jungle and wanting to earn her keep, she decided trying to recruit members would help earn some good graces. Sighing heavily Maus continues her trudge, her deep amber eyes washing over the barren, white landscape, the bodies of the other horses sticking out against the blank snowy canvas. A frigid gust of cold air hits the mare in the head on. It takes her breath away from a moment and in effort to shield herself, the grulla minx ducks her head down and to the left, tucking her chin in close to her chest. It's at this moment that she notices a gauge in the snow beside her.
Pausing a moment Maus examines the mark. It was inside the tracks made from another horse, slightly dirty from where an object had dug through the snow, hitting the earth beneath it. Curiosity was Maus' downfall and she found herself allowing her head to dip downward to get a closer look. What could have caused such odd tracks? The mouse colored mare doesn't get much time to ponder her thought, a sudden shout catches her attention, causing her head fly upward, her ears pivoting quickly towards its source. Not too far from her was bay overo mare calling out for someone. It doesn't take Maus long to notice that that the strange set of tracks she had been looking at led straight to her. Slightly worried, but mostly curious, the grulla mare continues forward, towards the distressed minx, reaching just moments after someone else.
Maus stops a respectable distance away, dipping her skull in greeting to the both of them before speaking "Have you lost someone?" she ask, her russian accented voice coming out in a wispy cloud of steam. "My name is Maus. Maybe I can help you?" she adds, her deep amber eyes casually flicking from the bay overo to the horse who stood beside her.