Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2015 16:36:51 GMT
(I'm not sure if this land has been officially claimed or not, but I didn't see anything in the herdlogs so)
In a way, Aryel almost felt right at home on the plains. Perhaps it was her ancestry speaking, as her Przewalski's horse mother, known in her native tongue as a takhi, had been born and raised in steppes like this. Aryel carried some of her dam's thick coat, at least in the wintertime, but her mixed-blood status was most noticeable in her short mane and stocky body. It was a good form for life on the chilly plains, however, She was quite comfortable at the moment, grazing idly on the new spring grass. It was still too cold for the mosquitoes and flies to be out in full force, whereas in the more southern parts of Tathra they were already beginning to become a problem. She was glad to be away from them for now.
After some time spent grazing, she lifted her head and looked over the gently-rolling glacier valley, vividly-colored with lichen and grass. In the distance, a herd of caribou moved as a dark smudge across the land, the clicking of their tendons just barely audible at this distance. The boundless plains, inviting and free, awoke a flame inside her, and she felt her limbs buzz with a familiar electrifying sensation. For a moment, Aryel was motionless, then she began to move. She began with an ambling walk, warming herself up, then gradually increased her speed until she was moving at the smooth, shuffling gate her Nokota sire had passed down to her. She couldn't hold herself back for long however, speeding up to a trot, then a canter, then a gallop, until she was running all-out, her hooves drumming a rapid staccato rhythm on the ground. The cold air stung her throat, but she refused to stop, urging herself faster and faster until the wind was whistling in her ears. A few of the caribou raised their heads curiously as she flew past them, wondering what the strange little horse was running from. A quick look around assured them that there was no danger, and so they went back to grazing, concluding that the horse was simply crazy.
When her limbs began to tire, she grudgingly slowed, her nostrils flaring with each breath she took. She had worked up a bit of a lather, which now cooled her burning skin as the wind gently stroked it. She let herself coast on her own momentum for a few more paces, then gradually slowed until she was ambling again, exhilarated from her run. It had left her a bit thirsty, so she continued walking until she found a tiny stream trickling through the grass, and stopped to sip.
In a way, Aryel almost felt right at home on the plains. Perhaps it was her ancestry speaking, as her Przewalski's horse mother, known in her native tongue as a takhi, had been born and raised in steppes like this. Aryel carried some of her dam's thick coat, at least in the wintertime, but her mixed-blood status was most noticeable in her short mane and stocky body. It was a good form for life on the chilly plains, however, She was quite comfortable at the moment, grazing idly on the new spring grass. It was still too cold for the mosquitoes and flies to be out in full force, whereas in the more southern parts of Tathra they were already beginning to become a problem. She was glad to be away from them for now.
After some time spent grazing, she lifted her head and looked over the gently-rolling glacier valley, vividly-colored with lichen and grass. In the distance, a herd of caribou moved as a dark smudge across the land, the clicking of their tendons just barely audible at this distance. The boundless plains, inviting and free, awoke a flame inside her, and she felt her limbs buzz with a familiar electrifying sensation. For a moment, Aryel was motionless, then she began to move. She began with an ambling walk, warming herself up, then gradually increased her speed until she was moving at the smooth, shuffling gate her Nokota sire had passed down to her. She couldn't hold herself back for long however, speeding up to a trot, then a canter, then a gallop, until she was running all-out, her hooves drumming a rapid staccato rhythm on the ground. The cold air stung her throat, but she refused to stop, urging herself faster and faster until the wind was whistling in her ears. A few of the caribou raised their heads curiously as she flew past them, wondering what the strange little horse was running from. A quick look around assured them that there was no danger, and so they went back to grazing, concluding that the horse was simply crazy.
When her limbs began to tire, she grudgingly slowed, her nostrils flaring with each breath she took. She had worked up a bit of a lather, which now cooled her burning skin as the wind gently stroked it. She let herself coast on her own momentum for a few more paces, then gradually slowed until she was ambling again, exhilarated from her run. It had left her a bit thirsty, so she continued walking until she found a tiny stream trickling through the grass, and stopped to sip.