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       Here’s the thing about Uhlan. By all means of natural selection, Uhlan should not be here. He should not be, by rights, a wild mustang. A domesticated horse set loose however hundred summers ago, his body a testament to human will and his survival testament to his own, but his situation dictated by pain and solitude. But his mind was often elsewhere. Upwards, among the lilting clouds.

        Uhlan is an idiot. A good-natured one, yes, but an idiot nonetheless. Totally unaware of his lot in life, much less whatever tragedy lay within it.

        For every wolf possessed by the pleistocene nipping at his heels, there is always a convenient loss of footing or slippery fruit. For every stranger stallion gnashing at his neck, there is the appearance of a savior. He was as lucky as his fur was gold, and he didn’t seem to notice it either.

        There he is, trotting up the westward side of the mountain without a care, his blocky hooves stirring up crickets and setting sparrows aloft from the grass. Reminiscing, he thought back. Surely, his birth herd moved on in the night prior, scouting ahead. And, surely, the stallion of the herd simply forgot his face upon his arrival after tracking them down. His mother, obviously, was always so kind - she likely didn’t want to cause a spat by barging in. So, with a flick of his cloudy-white tail, he found himself picking up his feet proudly.

        He had decided to spare them the trouble of kicking him out.

        He’s an idiot, but he isn’t stupid. Such a thing is inevitable! Full grown, with strong legs and a thick neck good for… biting people with, he guessed? Sure, he saw how the stallion used to fight off roving bachelors, but he was truly a bit too busy hitting up this cool new fad called ‘allogrooming’ where he could groom a mare’s back, and she’d groom his.

        Honestly, he couldn’t wait to show whoever lay ahead. They would probably think he’s hip, and throw up their manes in a big cheer about how fighting was over forever. Fighting? That’s so last fall. Cresting the mountain and looking into the valley below, the uprush of valley air carried the telltale smell of horses.

        Lots of them.

        Uhlan fluttered his eyes, blinking away the weep rising to his eyes. Oh, goodness… oh god, why did horses smell so bad? And why did he have such big nostrils to smell them with, too? Seriously, these valley mustangs could do with a proper bath. Dust, water, mud, didn’t matter. They all smelled like wet hay. Ugh.

        The sky wept its vanilla light down into the violet crooks of the far mountains, as the pale sun took its curtsy beyond the horizon. Right. Predators, or whatever. Best to get to open ground for the night, so he can see them coming. A mountain was probably not the safest place to lay his head for the night…

        … but OH it would be the cleanest, wouldn’t it?! All the open slate and short-cropped lichens, red as the streaking path the sun took to its set. As he forced each light and dark hoof forwards, he steeled himself for the coming days.

      Ew, ew ew… Oh god it was already getting soggier. With Autumn at his heels, the beeches and elms seemed to sigh into their yellow phase, shrouded with mist and the promise of rain. A gorgeous season, but a gross one.

Stallion ID: 107
In response to: N/A
Art features: Uhlan#107 www.deviantart.com/cv-admin/ar…
Story features: Uhlan#107
Word Count: 581

Items Used: N/A
Companion Animals: N/A
Members that own outside horses: N/A
Bachelor Herd: N
Collab: N

Rolls: Normal Rolls

Other notes: First post!

Description
You're at the beginning! | next
       Here’s the thing about Uhlan. By all means of natural selection, Uhlan should not be here. He should not be, by rights, a wild mustang. A domesticated horse set loose however hundred summers ago, his body a testament to human will and his survival testament to his own, but his situation dictated by pain and solitude. But his mind was often elsewhere. Upwards, among the lilting clouds.

        Uhlan is an idiot. A good-natured one, yes, but an idiot nonetheless. Totally unaware of his lot in life, much less whatever tragedy lay within it.

        For every wolf possessed by the pleistocene nipping at his heels, there is always a convenient loss of footing or slippery fruit. For every stranger stallion gnashing at his neck, there is the appearance of a savior. He was as lucky as his fur was gold, and he didn’t seem to notice it either.

        There he is, trotting up the westward side of the mountain without a care, his blocky hooves stirring up crickets and setting sparrows aloft from the grass. Reminiscing, he thought back. Surely, his birth herd moved on in the night prior, scouting ahead. And, surely, the stallion of the herd simply forgot his face upon his arrival after tracking them down. His mother, obviously, was always so kind - she likely didn’t want to cause a spat by barging in. So, with a flick of his cloudy-white tail, he found himself picking up his feet proudly.

        He had decided to spare them the trouble of kicking him out.

        He’s an idiot, but he isn’t stupid. Such a thing is inevitable! Full grown, with strong legs and a thick neck good for… biting people with, he guessed? Sure, he saw how the stallion used to fight off roving bachelors, but he was truly a bit too busy hitting up this cool new fad called ‘allogrooming’ where he could groom a mare’s back, and she’d groom his.

        Honestly, he couldn’t wait to show whoever lay ahead. They would probably think he’s hip, and throw up their manes in a big cheer about how fighting was over forever. Fighting? That’s so last fall. Cresting the mountain and looking into the valley below, the uprush of valley air carried the telltale smell of horses.

        Lots of them.

        Uhlan fluttered his eyes, blinking away the weep rising to his eyes. Oh, goodness… oh god, why did horses smell so bad? And why did he have such big nostrils to smell them with, too? Seriously, these valley mustangs could do with a proper bath. Dust, water, mud, didn’t matter. They all smelled like wet hay. Ugh.

        The sky wept its vanilla light down into the violet crooks of the far mountains, as the pale sun took its curtsy beyond the horizon. Right. Predators, or whatever. Best to get to open ground for the night, so he can see them coming. A mountain was probably not the safest place to lay his head for the night…

        … but OH it would be the cleanest, wouldn’t it?! All the open slate and short-cropped lichens, red as the streaking path the sun took to its set. As he forced each light and dark hoof forwards, he steeled himself for the coming days.

      Ew, ew ew… Oh god it was already getting soggier. With Autumn at his heels, the beeches and elms seemed to sigh into their yellow phase, shrouded with mist and the promise of rain. A gorgeous season, but a gross one.

Stallion ID: 107
In response to: N/A
Art features: Uhlan#107 www.deviantart.com/cv-admin/ar…
Story features: Uhlan#107
Word Count: 581

Items Used: N/A
Companion Animals: N/A
Members that own outside horses: N/A
Bachelor Herd: N
Collab: N

Rolls: Normal Rolls

Other notes: First post!