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Description

Word Count: 2,260
Activity: stat training-strength-pulling
Season: Summer
Seasonal Prompt: --
Location: ???
Herd Member(s): --
Lead Stallion: Karma's Cowboy
The jerky swaying back and forth would be enough to make even the strongest of horses nauseous. And if horses were capable of vomiting, Karma would be covered in his own.
He doesn't know what happened, he had been peacefully sleeping when all of a sudden he had been lurched sideways, slamming against the solid metal wall of the crate he's currently in.
Everything not secured had been thrown around. The bedding of his makeshift stall no longer cushions his hooves, and is now a soaked mess, created by the slowly growing amount of icy water seeping in from the corners of the door.
His food had been tossed as well, a jumbled heap of tangled rope and soiled hay. His water bucket had tipped over and is now rolling with the rhythm of the swaying box.
He's terrified, the only thing he can hear outside is loud, booming noises. Something continually crashes against the outer sides of the crate, presumably the thing that's making it rock so violently. He can't keep his footing, either; sliding around or constantly falling. He'd stay down if it weren't for the short rope tethered to a metal pole. Any slight amount of tension cause the halter over his face to dig uncomfortably against his nose and poll.
He can't help but worry if this is a punishment by his humans. Had he done something wrong? Behaved badly? He thought he had won in the most recent race, or at least he had earned a pretty colored ribbon and had taken pictures with one of those huge eye contraptions that some humans carry around.
So why is he being put through this torture? Is this what happens when a horse is being shipped off? Never to be seen again? Growing up as a racehorse, you learn pretty quickly what happens if you lose, or end up injured. Like being shipped off, or sold to a bad human.
As a colt, it had terrified him. Had given him relentless nightmares to the point it was almost impossible to sleep at night. He's still scared, and overwhelmingly stressed about everything. From eating right to making sure he doesn't drink too much water to be weighed down in a race, to practicing his hardest during warmups to show he's still worthy. Still able to run and win.
He's pushed by his humans, and by himself. Desperate to be good, to win, anything to save himself from punishment. Even sick, or injured. It's just the way his life is, he's never known anything else. From his very early memories, all he can ever remember is training to race. Being handled by humans. Training to win. He can't even remember his mother-what she looked like, or what her voice sounded like.
Suddenly, he's pulled from his thoughts by a harsh jerk of his metal crate, flinging him to his side against the wall once more. Pain blossoms through his side, throbbing and sinking deep into his skin and muscles. He grits his teeth against the pain. It's nothing he hasn't felt before.
But just as he's recovering, another huge wave sends him flying against the wall yet again, this time much harder, The metal digs into his side, straight into his skin. This time he does whimper quietly in pain, screwing his eyes shut as his body flushes with heat.
The rocking continues as he stays, leaning against the wall. He can only hope that this punishment, however weird it may be, will end soon.
---------------------
It had calmed down a considerable amount. The thunderous crashing outside had quieted, and the metal box had slowed to an almost gentle swaying of back and forth, such a sharp contrast to what it had been before. And if Karma wasn't so tense, he probably would've been able to doze off.
The bottom had filled with more water, leaving it just past Karma's patterns. Hels legs are soaked from being thrown around, leaving him shivering. The pain in his side had lessened, though he was sure that there was going to be a rather nasty bruise if there isn't already. He doesn't know how much longer he'll be stuck in here, or how much time had even passed since his humans had guided him inside.
Is this still part of his punishment? Or had he simply just been forgotten? Abandoned? Are his days as a racehorse over? He'd be happy if only it didn't mean that something bad, something WORSE, would happen instead. Had he been shipped off? Given over to one of those bad humans? Are they making him disappear?
A harsh jerk yanks Karma out of his spiraling thoughts. He sucks in a breath as he barely manages to catch himself, his breath hitching in his throat. More water splashes up his legs, though, with his fear, he can't be bothered to feel cold anymore.
It takes him a moment to actually realize that all movement had stopped completely. With his heart racing, Karma tentatively rights himself once more, looking around in his dark metal box, squinting to try and see at least somewhat better.
Small streams of light filtered in from the front, squeezing past the edge of the huge door. Karma shifts anxiously, angling his ears forward as he tries to listen to the outside world. Is the door broken? There hadn't been any light before. Could he...escape? Should he even try? What if his humans get angry at him? Does he even have humans anymore?
Or what if something bad had happened and they need his help? They could be injured, or worse.
Karma looks back at the rope, still tying him to the post. He gives a small tug, jerking his head back to test the knot. But the rope doesn't budge, and the boiling trough of anxiety in his gut begins to boil. He has to do something. Anything. He can't stay standing around all day. But the thought of his humans makes him hesitate.
He sighs, looking back at the small crack of light again. Squeezing his eyes shut, and with a deep breath, he yanks back against the rope. He can't let himself think about this anymore. He'll be left here for the rest of time if he does that, forever wondering, worrying about whether or not his humans will come and find him.
So, he allows his body to take the initiative instead, fighting against the rope keeping him here. He leans back and throws his head, huffing with effort as the halter digs uncomfortably into his skin, and he's sure that by the end of this, he'll have a rather nasty wound where the skin had been rubbed raw over his snout.
But it seems with every tug, the rope tightens. No matter how hard he pulls, how much he tosses his head, it refuses to budge. He lets himself pause, breathing heavily as sweat collects on his body, mixing with the water that had almost completely soaked him. He glares at the post, pinning his ears as he lets out a loud snort of frustration.
Once he's caught his breath, he steps back as far as he can, the rope pulled taut, and he tries again. Pulling back as hard as he can, throwing his entire body weight into the mix as he plants his hooves as best he can against the slippery metal of the floor.
It doesn't take long for his hooves to slowly begin to slide along the metal, only adding to his frustration instead. Without thinking, he rears up to try and keep from sliding. The crate isn't very tall, so he has to duck his head, his chin against his chest as the tips of his ears brush against the top of the crate.
He pulls and pulls, and pulls, huffing with effort. His halter continues to dig into his face, rubbing his skin raw to the point it begins to burn. He swears he can feel the wetness of blood now, though can't quite see in the dark. But he doesn't ease up, refusing to let himself rest until he's finally free, leaning back with everything he's got.
SNAP!
Karma is left stumbling backward, eyes wide with surprise before he's falling with a rather unflattering squeal. He feels his back hit the solid metal of the gate from his makeshift stall, only to continue falling backward. His hooves are up in the air, the bars digging painfully into his back, when there's a sudden POP. He can feel something shifting in his shoulder, but he doesn't exactly have time to register the pain that follows as he continues falling over the bar.
He hits the floor then, landing on his neck and falling over himself as another loud POP shifts something again.
Somehow, he ends up laying on his belly with his legs sprawled awkwardly out around him.
He stays laying still, breathing heavily as he stares wide-eyed at the railing he had just toppled over. Pain burns between his shoulder blades, engulfing his front left leg, growing with each small movement of his sides from his sporadic breathing.
What the HELL just happened? How did that happen? It had happened so quickly that he hadn't even registered what was going on, just what he was feeling and the bitter pain engulfing his entire being.
Even as he tries to slowly adjust himself, shifting to a more comfortable position, the pain only worsens, spreading down the middle of his back. It sinks deep into his muscles until he's sure it eats away at his bone, singing his nervous system, which only causes rising panic.
'Oh no...oh no.' He can't be injured. He can't be in pain. Had-had he broken something? Pulled a muscle? Why does it feel as though he's being eaten alive by the burning flames of a fire? Burning hopelessly out of control, consuming anything and everything in its path.
He recognizes the sharp sting in his nose as tears mist his eyes. He had messed up, managing to somehow injure himself, though how bad he still doesn't know yet. He should have never tried to escape. As a result, he had probably broken something. Something important. Now his humans-if they hadn't already-will throw him away, send him on a huge truck to make him disappear.
Surprisingly enough, as he sits, spiraling further and further into his anxious brain, the pain in his body slowly cools, remaining as a dull throb to the speeding rhythm of his panicked heart. He sniffles as he tries to collect his thoughts, and tries to work through his anxiety to a more logical explanation.
Maybe he really is okay? Maybe it isn't anything serious? Maybe it's something he can heal quickly from, or pretend away altogether. Something he can hide from his humans?
Hesitantly, he begins to move his back legs, starting somewhere furthest away from the heart of his pain. He adjusts them and pulls them close to his body, easing the discomfort from the awkward positioning. Then he tries his neck, slowly lifting his head.
His muscles feel sore and stiff, and he can feel the beginning of a headache at the back of his skull, but at least nothing's broken. So far. It sends a spark of light burning through the weeds of anxiety sticking to his brain with thorns of fear.
But as he goes to move his front legs, he has to immediately stop as more pain reignites between his shoulders and down his leg. Karma cant stop the tremor that rolls across his body; not from the icy water he currently lays in, but from the raw fear at the possibility of actually being injured.
Now what should he do? What can he do? Should he try to move again? He can't just wait for his humans to come and find him in this state. They'll get rid of him for sure. If he can only get up, if he can stand and get himself moving, walking, then he'll be okay. He'll prove to them he's okay. He can hide a limp, he's done it before.
But a break?
Not so much.
With his mind made up, Karma slowly shifts his body once more in hopes of making it at least somewhat easier to get up. And though the pain flares up again, it isn't as unbearable as it was before. With a deep breath in, he collects his legs under him and pushes up.
With a small squeak of pain, he manages to sit back on his bum, holding himself up with most of his weight on the right side. His whole body is tense with pain, his left leg trembling with the effort of staying up.
As the pain subsides, Karma wills himself to move once more. It takes a moment, and he fears he might fall over in the process, but he does finally manage to get himself standing. He's breathing heavily, shifting the weight off his injured leg. He's sweating through his coat, though he can't tell what's water and what's actually sweat.
His heart thunders in his chest, and his breathing is erratic. But triumph bubbles up in his gut, and a breathless smile works its way onto his face. He then turns, facing the large metal door, his eyes locking onto the small bit of light.
The first step is done. Now to actually get out of the crate.
Somehow, he just has a feeling in his gut that he will get out of there.

-----------------------------
~References Used~

-Poses
-i.pinimg.com/564x/02/6c/c1/026…

-Background
-None Used

Description

Word Count: 2,260
Activity: stat training-strength-pulling
Season: Summer
Seasonal Prompt: --
Location: ???
Herd Member(s): --
Lead Stallion: Karma's Cowboy
The jerky swaying back and forth would be enough to make even the strongest of horses nauseous. And if horses were capable of vomiting, Karma would be covered in his own.
He doesn't know what happened, he had been peacefully sleeping when all of a sudden he had been lurched sideways, slamming against the solid metal wall of the crate he's currently in.
Everything not secured had been thrown around. The bedding of his makeshift stall no longer cushions his hooves, and is now a soaked mess, created by the slowly growing amount of icy water seeping in from the corners of the door.
His food had been tossed as well, a jumbled heap of tangled rope and soiled hay. His water bucket had tipped over and is now rolling with the rhythm of the swaying box.
He's terrified, the only thing he can hear outside is loud, booming noises. Something continually crashes against the outer sides of the crate, presumably the thing that's making it rock so violently. He can't keep his footing, either; sliding around or constantly falling. He'd stay down if it weren't for the short rope tethered to a metal pole. Any slight amount of tension cause the halter over his face to dig uncomfortably against his nose and poll.
He can't help but worry if this is a punishment by his humans. Had he done something wrong? Behaved badly? He thought he had won in the most recent race, or at least he had earned a pretty colored ribbon and had taken pictures with one of those huge eye contraptions that some humans carry around.
So why is he being put through this torture? Is this what happens when a horse is being shipped off? Never to be seen again? Growing up as a racehorse, you learn pretty quickly what happens if you lose, or end up injured. Like being shipped off, or sold to a bad human.
As a colt, it had terrified him. Had given him relentless nightmares to the point it was almost impossible to sleep at night. He's still scared, and overwhelmingly stressed about everything. From eating right to making sure he doesn't drink too much water to be weighed down in a race, to practicing his hardest during warmups to show he's still worthy. Still able to run and win.
He's pushed by his humans, and by himself. Desperate to be good, to win, anything to save himself from punishment. Even sick, or injured. It's just the way his life is, he's never known anything else. From his very early memories, all he can ever remember is training to race. Being handled by humans. Training to win. He can't even remember his mother-what she looked like, or what her voice sounded like.
Suddenly, he's pulled from his thoughts by a harsh jerk of his metal crate, flinging him to his side against the wall once more. Pain blossoms through his side, throbbing and sinking deep into his skin and muscles. He grits his teeth against the pain. It's nothing he hasn't felt before.
But just as he's recovering, another huge wave sends him flying against the wall yet again, this time much harder, The metal digs into his side, straight into his skin. This time he does whimper quietly in pain, screwing his eyes shut as his body flushes with heat.
The rocking continues as he stays, leaning against the wall. He can only hope that this punishment, however weird it may be, will end soon.
---------------------
It had calmed down a considerable amount. The thunderous crashing outside had quieted, and the metal box had slowed to an almost gentle swaying of back and forth, such a sharp contrast to what it had been before. And if Karma wasn't so tense, he probably would've been able to doze off.
The bottom had filled with more water, leaving it just past Karma's patterns. Hels legs are soaked from being thrown around, leaving him shivering. The pain in his side had lessened, though he was sure that there was going to be a rather nasty bruise if there isn't already. He doesn't know how much longer he'll be stuck in here, or how much time had even passed since his humans had guided him inside.
Is this still part of his punishment? Or had he simply just been forgotten? Abandoned? Are his days as a racehorse over? He'd be happy if only it didn't mean that something bad, something WORSE, would happen instead. Had he been shipped off? Given over to one of those bad humans? Are they making him disappear?
A harsh jerk yanks Karma out of his spiraling thoughts. He sucks in a breath as he barely manages to catch himself, his breath hitching in his throat. More water splashes up his legs, though, with his fear, he can't be bothered to feel cold anymore.
It takes him a moment to actually realize that all movement had stopped completely. With his heart racing, Karma tentatively rights himself once more, looking around in his dark metal box, squinting to try and see at least somewhat better.
Small streams of light filtered in from the front, squeezing past the edge of the huge door. Karma shifts anxiously, angling his ears forward as he tries to listen to the outside world. Is the door broken? There hadn't been any light before. Could he...escape? Should he even try? What if his humans get angry at him? Does he even have humans anymore?
Or what if something bad had happened and they need his help? They could be injured, or worse.
Karma looks back at the rope, still tying him to the post. He gives a small tug, jerking his head back to test the knot. But the rope doesn't budge, and the boiling trough of anxiety in his gut begins to boil. He has to do something. Anything. He can't stay standing around all day. But the thought of his humans makes him hesitate.
He sighs, looking back at the small crack of light again. Squeezing his eyes shut, and with a deep breath, he yanks back against the rope. He can't let himself think about this anymore. He'll be left here for the rest of time if he does that, forever wondering, worrying about whether or not his humans will come and find him.
So, he allows his body to take the initiative instead, fighting against the rope keeping him here. He leans back and throws his head, huffing with effort as the halter digs uncomfortably into his skin, and he's sure that by the end of this, he'll have a rather nasty wound where the skin had been rubbed raw over his snout.
But it seems with every tug, the rope tightens. No matter how hard he pulls, how much he tosses his head, it refuses to budge. He lets himself pause, breathing heavily as sweat collects on his body, mixing with the water that had almost completely soaked him. He glares at the post, pinning his ears as he lets out a loud snort of frustration.
Once he's caught his breath, he steps back as far as he can, the rope pulled taut, and he tries again. Pulling back as hard as he can, throwing his entire body weight into the mix as he plants his hooves as best he can against the slippery metal of the floor.
It doesn't take long for his hooves to slowly begin to slide along the metal, only adding to his frustration instead. Without thinking, he rears up to try and keep from sliding. The crate isn't very tall, so he has to duck his head, his chin against his chest as the tips of his ears brush against the top of the crate.
He pulls and pulls, and pulls, huffing with effort. His halter continues to dig into his face, rubbing his skin raw to the point it begins to burn. He swears he can feel the wetness of blood now, though can't quite see in the dark. But he doesn't ease up, refusing to let himself rest until he's finally free, leaning back with everything he's got.
SNAP!
Karma is left stumbling backward, eyes wide with surprise before he's falling with a rather unflattering squeal. He feels his back hit the solid metal of the gate from his makeshift stall, only to continue falling backward. His hooves are up in the air, the bars digging painfully into his back, when there's a sudden POP. He can feel something shifting in his shoulder, but he doesn't exactly have time to register the pain that follows as he continues falling over the bar.
He hits the floor then, landing on his neck and falling over himself as another loud POP shifts something again.
Somehow, he ends up laying on his belly with his legs sprawled awkwardly out around him.
He stays laying still, breathing heavily as he stares wide-eyed at the railing he had just toppled over. Pain burns between his shoulder blades, engulfing his front left leg, growing with each small movement of his sides from his sporadic breathing.
What the HELL just happened? How did that happen? It had happened so quickly that he hadn't even registered what was going on, just what he was feeling and the bitter pain engulfing his entire being.
Even as he tries to slowly adjust himself, shifting to a more comfortable position, the pain only worsens, spreading down the middle of his back. It sinks deep into his muscles until he's sure it eats away at his bone, singing his nervous system, which only causes rising panic.
'Oh no...oh no.' He can't be injured. He can't be in pain. Had-had he broken something? Pulled a muscle? Why does it feel as though he's being eaten alive by the burning flames of a fire? Burning hopelessly out of control, consuming anything and everything in its path.
He recognizes the sharp sting in his nose as tears mist his eyes. He had messed up, managing to somehow injure himself, though how bad he still doesn't know yet. He should have never tried to escape. As a result, he had probably broken something. Something important. Now his humans-if they hadn't already-will throw him away, send him on a huge truck to make him disappear.
Surprisingly enough, as he sits, spiraling further and further into his anxious brain, the pain in his body slowly cools, remaining as a dull throb to the speeding rhythm of his panicked heart. He sniffles as he tries to collect his thoughts, and tries to work through his anxiety to a more logical explanation.
Maybe he really is okay? Maybe it isn't anything serious? Maybe it's something he can heal quickly from, or pretend away altogether. Something he can hide from his humans?
Hesitantly, he begins to move his back legs, starting somewhere furthest away from the heart of his pain. He adjusts them and pulls them close to his body, easing the discomfort from the awkward positioning. Then he tries his neck, slowly lifting his head.
His muscles feel sore and stiff, and he can feel the beginning of a headache at the back of his skull, but at least nothing's broken. So far. It sends a spark of light burning through the weeds of anxiety sticking to his brain with thorns of fear.
But as he goes to move his front legs, he has to immediately stop as more pain reignites between his shoulders and down his leg. Karma cant stop the tremor that rolls across his body; not from the icy water he currently lays in, but from the raw fear at the possibility of actually being injured.
Now what should he do? What can he do? Should he try to move again? He can't just wait for his humans to come and find him in this state. They'll get rid of him for sure. If he can only get up, if he can stand and get himself moving, walking, then he'll be okay. He'll prove to them he's okay. He can hide a limp, he's done it before.
But a break?
Not so much.
With his mind made up, Karma slowly shifts his body once more in hopes of making it at least somewhat easier to get up. And though the pain flares up again, it isn't as unbearable as it was before. With a deep breath in, he collects his legs under him and pushes up.
With a small squeak of pain, he manages to sit back on his bum, holding himself up with most of his weight on the right side. His whole body is tense with pain, his left leg trembling with the effort of staying up.
As the pain subsides, Karma wills himself to move once more. It takes a moment, and he fears he might fall over in the process, but he does finally manage to get himself standing. He's breathing heavily, shifting the weight off his injured leg. He's sweating through his coat, though he can't tell what's water and what's actually sweat.
His heart thunders in his chest, and his breathing is erratic. But triumph bubbles up in his gut, and a breathless smile works its way onto his face. He then turns, facing the large metal door, his eyes locking onto the small bit of light.
The first step is done. Now to actually get out of the crate.
Somehow, he just has a feeling in his gut that he will get out of there.

-----------------------------
~References Used~

-Poses
-i.pinimg.com/564x/02/6c/c1/026…

-Background
-None Used