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Description

The dirt was everywhere.

It covered her coat, turning it from flame - bright red in the sun to a dusty, diluted brownish hue, the grit embedded throughout the fluff of her rapidly growing winter coat. It coated her eyelashes and gathered in the crevices at the corners of her eyes, threatening to blind her and making her eyes sting unless she kept them closed and her head tucked down, letting her eyelashes take the brunt of the wind. Her mane and tail were no longer smooth and soft, but grimy and rough where they twisted against her skin, caught up in the wind of the dust storm. Small drifts of dirt gathered against her hooves and caught on her withers and the slope of her back, the world narrowing to nothing as she stood still and waited out the storm.

Minisa did not know how long it was before the wind dropped off. Without the constant whine, the world was deathly silent, and when she shook the worst of the sand out of her face and opened her eyes she found that she was all alone. The ground was flat beneath her hooves, too impacted by the storm to make out anything other than the stone beneath her left back hoof. Even when she lifted them one at a time to shake them out of the holes formed around them, the only thing she could feel was the soft, freshly churned dust under them.

She could not see very far, the dirt heavy in the air like mist in the early spring mornings or fog over the lakeshore or even the thick blizzards in the winter. It made the place seem heavy and made Minisa look around nervously, wary of the lack of ability to see danger from afar when she was alone, without others to help her keep an eye out or lend their strength should a predator appear. Horses were not solitary creatures, and it set her on edge to be isolated from the world in this void.

Worse still, she had not been alone before the storm, yet she was now.

Her lead mare had been heading for the relative safety of the trees, towards the lower parts of the mountains, but they had not made it. Minisa didn’t even know if she had kept walking when her lead stopped, or if she had stopped too soon, or even if they had walked away from each other in the storm. Her instinct was to call out, but the stillness stopped her. Calling attention to herself may not be the best of ideas, but neither was losing her herd.

Slowly, the world came back to life. A songbird started to whistle in the distant trees, and insects began to crawl out of their shelters to resume their lives. A line of ants dug themselves out of the sand next to her hoof and began to crawl away. Over her head, so high that they avoided the storm, a pair of large wings signaled that a hawk had flown past. And as the dust began to settle, a glimpse of movement cause Minisa’s eye. The shadow of a creature made her start, head snapping up, but it was only a rabbit, given away by the distinctive, rhythmic thump of its feet as it burst from a slowly appearing bush and darted away.

Shivering the sand from her top line, Minisa started walking, too nervous now to stay put. A horse needed companionship, yes, but their first and last line of defense was in their hooves. A horse who could not run was not a horse at all, doomed die in a burst of violence when a predator happened upon them. It was rare for her kind to wither away slowly on the range, where the weak were culled to provide for the strong. Minisa had known humans to keep a horse alive for years upon years when it could not provide for itself, a return of the kindness the horse had done to them, but it was not so here. Here, even a mother might be forced to abandon a too weak foal for the sake of her own life.

That was what Minisa did now, although it was not a conscious thought. She kept her mouth closed, and turned away from the search for her lead mare in favor of seeking out the safest route. Away from the humans and their metal city, away from the plains where another sandstorm or the increasingly threatening snowstorms might catch her by surprise again, and into the trees leading towards the mountains.

Emerging over the top of a ridge, she realized just how far they had gotten from Fallon. Carson Lake stretched out in front of her, the land sloping down to its shore, and Minisa picked out a smooth path towards its shore. A bit more vain than she should be, Minisa would risk the chill for the sake of getting the dirt out of her coat. Perhaps she would not have if she were not completely encrusted in dirt from the storm, but she was, and the temptation was too much.

As she approached the shore, Minisa was careful to scan her surroundings. She would be more vulnerable in water and off her hooves, so she needed to be cautious. Choosing a part of the shore with no nearby long grass or dips in the earth or trees to obstruct her view, she turned in a slow semi - circle, nose lifted to scent the air, and paid extra attention to the places that were upwind. Predators did not live long by being poor hunters.

Only once she was satisfied with the area did Minisa venture into the shallows, pawing up a wave of water that splashed against her belly, making her shiver at the chill. The last few days had been warm, and it wasn’t as cold as it would be in the coming months, but against her skin burned by the storm and sun it felt like ice. Her thick coat came away wet, but clean, the water darkening it. Minisa lowered herself to her knees and turned to flop into the lake, untangling her legs from underneath her and rolling on her side awkwardly, then twisting around to do the same to the other side. It made her legs muddy, the white on her front hooves looking worse than before, but as she clambered back to her feet she took the time to swish her legs through the water, one by one, to clean them as well.

By the time she climbed back onto the rocky shore she was drenched and felt much better. Minisa shook the worse of the water from her coat, which was already beginning to dry under the moon - high sun, and took a moment to consider her next actions. It was late in the season, and winter was coming quickly. She could retreat into the forests for shelter, or try her luck on the mountain paths, where she would be protected from the wind and likely find more food in the valleys. Without a herd, she didn’t dare venture into the plains, where she would be easily seen by anything or anyone who happened to pass by, despite that being her best hope of finding enough food.

Most importantly, she needed to find other horses. A lone horse in winter was a dead horse. She hadn’t seen any other horses since she’d escaped the storm. Most herds with a good leader would hunker down somewhere protected and wait it out, but that none had come to the lake to drink and recover, as she had, suggested that there were none nearby. And while they might be easier to see out in the open, she had little interest in joining a herd leader who would not seek better shelter from the oncoming snow.

Minisa had not been idle while she considered her options. She had started up the slope on the south side of Carson Lake, angling towards the paths leading north, towards Job Mountain and Dixie Valley. If she could find a herd lingering between the mountains and the plains that might be her best bet, as they could decide where to go from there and relieve her of the choice. Otherwise, she would climb through the sheltered mountain trail and perhaps spot a herd from there.
~oOo~
Horses Mentioned: Minisa
Player(s): -
Estimated Stat Count: 14
+2 Fullbody
+1 Color
+1 Shaded
+1 Background
+7 1402 Words
+1 Recruited Bonus
+1 Charisma - Winter Jacket
Response To: -
Summary: After being separated from her companions by a sandstorm, Minisa leaves Carson Lake and heads toward Job Mountain in search of shelter from the sand and snow, and new friends.
Requests:
Meeting new horses!
Specific Horse Encounter: Mare 0079

Description

The dirt was everywhere.

It covered her coat, turning it from flame - bright red in the sun to a dusty, diluted brownish hue, the grit embedded throughout the fluff of her rapidly growing winter coat. It coated her eyelashes and gathered in the crevices at the corners of her eyes, threatening to blind her and making her eyes sting unless she kept them closed and her head tucked down, letting her eyelashes take the brunt of the wind. Her mane and tail were no longer smooth and soft, but grimy and rough where they twisted against her skin, caught up in the wind of the dust storm. Small drifts of dirt gathered against her hooves and caught on her withers and the slope of her back, the world narrowing to nothing as she stood still and waited out the storm.

Minisa did not know how long it was before the wind dropped off. Without the constant whine, the world was deathly silent, and when she shook the worst of the sand out of her face and opened her eyes she found that she was all alone. The ground was flat beneath her hooves, too impacted by the storm to make out anything other than the stone beneath her left back hoof. Even when she lifted them one at a time to shake them out of the holes formed around them, the only thing she could feel was the soft, freshly churned dust under them.

She could not see very far, the dirt heavy in the air like mist in the early spring mornings or fog over the lakeshore or even the thick blizzards in the winter. It made the place seem heavy and made Minisa look around nervously, wary of the lack of ability to see danger from afar when she was alone, without others to help her keep an eye out or lend their strength should a predator appear. Horses were not solitary creatures, and it set her on edge to be isolated from the world in this void.

Worse still, she had not been alone before the storm, yet she was now.

Her lead mare had been heading for the relative safety of the trees, towards the lower parts of the mountains, but they had not made it. Minisa didn’t even know if she had kept walking when her lead stopped, or if she had stopped too soon, or even if they had walked away from each other in the storm. Her instinct was to call out, but the stillness stopped her. Calling attention to herself may not be the best of ideas, but neither was losing her herd.

Slowly, the world came back to life. A songbird started to whistle in the distant trees, and insects began to crawl out of their shelters to resume their lives. A line of ants dug themselves out of the sand next to her hoof and began to crawl away. Over her head, so high that they avoided the storm, a pair of large wings signaled that a hawk had flown past. And as the dust began to settle, a glimpse of movement cause Minisa’s eye. The shadow of a creature made her start, head snapping up, but it was only a rabbit, given away by the distinctive, rhythmic thump of its feet as it burst from a slowly appearing bush and darted away.

Shivering the sand from her top line, Minisa started walking, too nervous now to stay put. A horse needed companionship, yes, but their first and last line of defense was in their hooves. A horse who could not run was not a horse at all, doomed die in a burst of violence when a predator happened upon them. It was rare for her kind to wither away slowly on the range, where the weak were culled to provide for the strong. Minisa had known humans to keep a horse alive for years upon years when it could not provide for itself, a return of the kindness the horse had done to them, but it was not so here. Here, even a mother might be forced to abandon a too weak foal for the sake of her own life.

That was what Minisa did now, although it was not a conscious thought. She kept her mouth closed, and turned away from the search for her lead mare in favor of seeking out the safest route. Away from the humans and their metal city, away from the plains where another sandstorm or the increasingly threatening snowstorms might catch her by surprise again, and into the trees leading towards the mountains.

Emerging over the top of a ridge, she realized just how far they had gotten from Fallon. Carson Lake stretched out in front of her, the land sloping down to its shore, and Minisa picked out a smooth path towards its shore. A bit more vain than she should be, Minisa would risk the chill for the sake of getting the dirt out of her coat. Perhaps she would not have if she were not completely encrusted in dirt from the storm, but she was, and the temptation was too much.

As she approached the shore, Minisa was careful to scan her surroundings. She would be more vulnerable in water and off her hooves, so she needed to be cautious. Choosing a part of the shore with no nearby long grass or dips in the earth or trees to obstruct her view, she turned in a slow semi - circle, nose lifted to scent the air, and paid extra attention to the places that were upwind. Predators did not live long by being poor hunters.

Only once she was satisfied with the area did Minisa venture into the shallows, pawing up a wave of water that splashed against her belly, making her shiver at the chill. The last few days had been warm, and it wasn’t as cold as it would be in the coming months, but against her skin burned by the storm and sun it felt like ice. Her thick coat came away wet, but clean, the water darkening it. Minisa lowered herself to her knees and turned to flop into the lake, untangling her legs from underneath her and rolling on her side awkwardly, then twisting around to do the same to the other side. It made her legs muddy, the white on her front hooves looking worse than before, but as she clambered back to her feet she took the time to swish her legs through the water, one by one, to clean them as well.

By the time she climbed back onto the rocky shore she was drenched and felt much better. Minisa shook the worse of the water from her coat, which was already beginning to dry under the moon - high sun, and took a moment to consider her next actions. It was late in the season, and winter was coming quickly. She could retreat into the forests for shelter, or try her luck on the mountain paths, where she would be protected from the wind and likely find more food in the valleys. Without a herd, she didn’t dare venture into the plains, where she would be easily seen by anything or anyone who happened to pass by, despite that being her best hope of finding enough food.

Most importantly, she needed to find other horses. A lone horse in winter was a dead horse. She hadn’t seen any other horses since she’d escaped the storm. Most herds with a good leader would hunker down somewhere protected and wait it out, but that none had come to the lake to drink and recover, as she had, suggested that there were none nearby. And while they might be easier to see out in the open, she had little interest in joining a herd leader who would not seek better shelter from the oncoming snow.

Minisa had not been idle while she considered her options. She had started up the slope on the south side of Carson Lake, angling towards the paths leading north, towards Job Mountain and Dixie Valley. If she could find a herd lingering between the mountains and the plains that might be her best bet, as they could decide where to go from there and relieve her of the choice. Otherwise, she would climb through the sheltered mountain trail and perhaps spot a herd from there.
~oOo~
Horses Mentioned: Minisa
Player(s): -
Estimated Stat Count: 14
+2 Fullbody
+1 Color
+1 Shaded
+1 Background
+7 1402 Words
+1 Recruited Bonus
+1 Charisma - Winter Jacket
Response To: -
Summary: After being separated from her companions by a sandstorm, Minisa leaves Carson Lake and heads toward Job Mountain in search of shelter from the sand and snow, and new friends.
Requests:
Meeting new horses!
Specific Horse Encounter: Mare 0079