Post by xx__polo on Jul 15, 2008 17:39:33 GMT -5
» Men and war. Men and battles. Tiny wooden warriors as they trailed down the mountain side, their shipped bolsa boots shining with the last bit of paint they had. One two, one two, pound pound pound on the turf, their small bodies fumbling to keep balance. But above their heads, high up on the mountain pass, something watched the little warriors march on. His dark eyes looking intently at them, his body surprisingly rigid compared to other horses, his mouth clamped around a torn leather strip from which hung the remains of his muzzle. Yes, he had come up here to the sharp rocks to cut it off his face but he couldn't find it in him to leave it so he picked it up and thought to hide until he came up with a better option. Nostrils widened as he took in a deep breath of the shallow air, his long lame falling in front of his dark eyes, the pale sun causing his luce pelt to glimmer with a sike, pale splender. Blutmond Steigend was not your ordinary horse as you could tell though you really had no idea.
» Turning slightly, the whites of his eyes visible as he looked up the rest of the mountain side, watching a few rocks rumble down the side in their own parade.
-family problems. I gtg
