09-06-2016, 07:48 AM
She has been to the Mountain --
Whatever magic and mystery has been long buried beneath the earth has thrust up, tall and peaked, to make itself known. It mothers them; brings them to her rocky breast and bids them to remember who they are - horses, first and foremost, all the rest was just the trappings of magic and time, and to the very bone of them, they would always be just horses.
Scalped is okay with that; she began life as a horse and ended life as a horse, until her eyes opened and she saw the bright blue of the sky above the Plains on which her head laid last where it had fallen in her death throes. She knew then, that she had been forever changed as if Coyote had come to her as she bled out from her heart’s source and touched a tricksy paw to her brow and said, Live my child.
She can feel that immortality once again, after having come down off the Mountain.
It licks her bones and glosses them over, scrapes away the age and strengthens the imperviousness of her mostly pale flesh.
The medicine hat mare can scent her children - they are safe; thank Coyote for that! There are small miracles in the aftermath of this, after all. She moves through the trees, almost trailing them and she can see them engaged in play with a red-maned black filly. It is easy to see that the girl must be a half-sibling to the twins through their big black father with his red eyes, but she does not go to them - not yet, there is time enough for family later on. She feels drawn to the trees, and Scalped is not a creature of closed in places - trees are claustrophobic to her, if only because she has only ever known wide open spaces, like her beloved Plains far far from here, almost in another time, it seems.
But in her travels, she comes across a stallion lying on his side on the ground. He seems to be breathing and she almost pokes her nose at his ribs just to see if they rise and fall with each breath as they should. The stallion started to cry unashamedly, asking her not to leave him in a choking sob and this spooked her badly - she had thought him near death! Now he was blubbering in sorrow, and she stumbled back a step or two, lowering her head to the dirt, snuffling at it and almost nosing her way back to him - almost closer. “Are you okay?” she ventured softly, concern pinching her face tight as she focused her black eyes on him. He almost looked like… but no, the smell was all wrong. She nearly sighed and pulled her head up, that was long ago in and magic snatched that place away.
Scalped snuffles at his neck, nosing the hairs of his mane along it.
“Why do you cry?”
Whatever magic and mystery has been long buried beneath the earth has thrust up, tall and peaked, to make itself known. It mothers them; brings them to her rocky breast and bids them to remember who they are - horses, first and foremost, all the rest was just the trappings of magic and time, and to the very bone of them, they would always be just horses.
Scalped is okay with that; she began life as a horse and ended life as a horse, until her eyes opened and she saw the bright blue of the sky above the Plains on which her head laid last where it had fallen in her death throes. She knew then, that she had been forever changed as if Coyote had come to her as she bled out from her heart’s source and touched a tricksy paw to her brow and said, Live my child.
She can feel that immortality once again, after having come down off the Mountain.
It licks her bones and glosses them over, scrapes away the age and strengthens the imperviousness of her mostly pale flesh.
The medicine hat mare can scent her children - they are safe; thank Coyote for that! There are small miracles in the aftermath of this, after all. She moves through the trees, almost trailing them and she can see them engaged in play with a red-maned black filly. It is easy to see that the girl must be a half-sibling to the twins through their big black father with his red eyes, but she does not go to them - not yet, there is time enough for family later on. She feels drawn to the trees, and Scalped is not a creature of closed in places - trees are claustrophobic to her, if only because she has only ever known wide open spaces, like her beloved Plains far far from here, almost in another time, it seems.
But in her travels, she comes across a stallion lying on his side on the ground. He seems to be breathing and she almost pokes her nose at his ribs just to see if they rise and fall with each breath as they should. The stallion started to cry unashamedly, asking her not to leave him in a choking sob and this spooked her badly - she had thought him near death! Now he was blubbering in sorrow, and she stumbled back a step or two, lowering her head to the dirt, snuffling at it and almost nosing her way back to him - almost closer. “Are you okay?” she ventured softly, concern pinching her face tight as she focused her black eyes on him. He almost looked like… but no, the smell was all wrong. She nearly sighed and pulled her head up, that was long ago in and magic snatched that place away.
Scalped snuffles at his neck, nosing the hairs of his mane along it.
“Why do you cry?”
![[Image: commission____scalped_by_pegasusstudios-dahbsg9.jpg]](http://pre10.deviantart.net/5738/th/pre/i/2016/254/d/3/commission____scalped_by_pegasusstudios-dahbsg9.jpg)