09-20-2021, 01:11 AM
![[Image: 2-BEC0-B6-B-1-D14-4-A34-883-D-22-FEDDEF8644.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/8ctXdcTL/2-BEC0-B6-B-1-D14-4-A34-883-D-22-FEDDEF8644.png)
Trandafir
The warmth that came the early spring was welcomed to the young mare. Though her thick coat kept her decently warm, she preferred spring weather. As she weaved carefully through a seemingly endless amount of trees, a cluster of thoughts filled her mind. The memories of her home and the spring times she had enjoyed with her family. The loneliness she felt now the she was alone. And longing in her heart to return to her beloved home. But the thought and feeling that overcame her was the excitement and joy to be starting life on her own. She felt a glorious freedom and strength flow over her as she roamed the land alone.
She had no course set in life and did not want one. Trandafir wanted to spend her young years without obligations or pressure. With the mindset of being spontaneous and doing what she wanted. She hoped to meet many horses and make many friends. Though her parents had sent her off with mild warnings of the dangerous world, they had not fully prepared her. Her innocent mind could hardly imagine the pain, evil and danger that existed out in the world. She knew only the good and beautiful. The kind and caring. And she always carried that with her. Fira had been raised with a mindset of care. Wherever she was and whatever she was doing, she must always be ready to help, always be willing, and always care for others.
Her half shed chestnut coat was covered in a light layer of dust and her white legs were stained brown. Her mindset of care did not extend to herself or her appearance, as was obvious. The young mare usually carried a dusty coat, but it was all excused by her sweet eyes and joyful smile. A smile that faded suddenly when the chestnut mare caught the scents of a fearful commotion. Her glee for the spring day melted off her face as her flared nostrils caught the putrid scent of a predator, followed by the sharp smell of blood. Her now sharp eyes wildly scan the surroundings. Catching movement from the corner of her vision she spins to the left and bounds towards the scene. When Trandafir arrives she freezes briefly in horror. The horse in front of her is lying still, his white coat torn and stained with blood. She swallows as a strong urge to turn and flee overcomes her when the scent of blood fills her nostrils. But she doesn't run. Her large hooves quickly approach the severely injured stranger. Her eyes sting from the horrid sight of the horses condition.
The thoughts in her mind are rushing to fast for her to think clearly, so she does what she feels the strongest. As she nears the horse she lowers her head, quickly examining the extent of his injuries. She knows little to nothing of medicine, but perhaps she can still do something to help. Anything. Her pink nose reaches for the bloody neck of the stranger, nudging gently, and urgently, she speaks. "Are you awake?" "Can you move?!" She knows better than to ask if he is alright. He clearly isn't. Her nudges become more frantic and her heart is gripped with a tightening fear. He isn't dying right? Her mind rushes, a sudden charge of emotions flowing over her. "Please say something!" she bursts, "Please don't die!" she trails, her voice softening, the worry in her tone is clear. Trandafir has no idea who the bloody stallion is, but she can't bear to see anyone die.
She had no course set in life and did not want one. Trandafir wanted to spend her young years without obligations or pressure. With the mindset of being spontaneous and doing what she wanted. She hoped to meet many horses and make many friends. Though her parents had sent her off with mild warnings of the dangerous world, they had not fully prepared her. Her innocent mind could hardly imagine the pain, evil and danger that existed out in the world. She knew only the good and beautiful. The kind and caring. And she always carried that with her. Fira had been raised with a mindset of care. Wherever she was and whatever she was doing, she must always be ready to help, always be willing, and always care for others.
Her half shed chestnut coat was covered in a light layer of dust and her white legs were stained brown. Her mindset of care did not extend to herself or her appearance, as was obvious. The young mare usually carried a dusty coat, but it was all excused by her sweet eyes and joyful smile. A smile that faded suddenly when the chestnut mare caught the scents of a fearful commotion. Her glee for the spring day melted off her face as her flared nostrils caught the putrid scent of a predator, followed by the sharp smell of blood. Her now sharp eyes wildly scan the surroundings. Catching movement from the corner of her vision she spins to the left and bounds towards the scene. When Trandafir arrives she freezes briefly in horror. The horse in front of her is lying still, his white coat torn and stained with blood. She swallows as a strong urge to turn and flee overcomes her when the scent of blood fills her nostrils. But she doesn't run. Her large hooves quickly approach the severely injured stranger. Her eyes sting from the horrid sight of the horses condition.
The thoughts in her mind are rushing to fast for her to think clearly, so she does what she feels the strongest. As she nears the horse she lowers her head, quickly examining the extent of his injuries. She knows little to nothing of medicine, but perhaps she can still do something to help. Anything. Her pink nose reaches for the bloody neck of the stranger, nudging gently, and urgently, she speaks. "Are you awake?" "Can you move?!" She knows better than to ask if he is alright. He clearly isn't. Her nudges become more frantic and her heart is gripped with a tightening fear. He isn't dying right? Her mind rushes, a sudden charge of emotions flowing over her. "Please say something!" she bursts, "Please don't die!" she trails, her voice softening, the worry in her tone is clear. Trandafir has no idea who the bloody stallion is, but she can't bear to see anyone die.