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Description

The young stallion sleeps, comforted by the presence of the more experienced mares around him grazing and keeping watch.

Pose Reference and Pose Reference by EquinePhotoandStock
Pose Reference by MountainViewStock

Background Inspiration by Coccineus

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Cottonwood Valley, First Night

  When the sun starts to sink in the cloudless sky, the orange mare begins to look for a good place to spend the night sheltered away from the worst of the wind. Traveling together with someone else is nice— even though Colt felt as if he was the odd one out of the small group.

  Yes, Colt did know his name wasn’t really a proper name— that realization happened earlier that year when he began to wander away from familiar cattle herds. The young stallion was meek enough to have accepted another name from this group, but it didn’t seem to happen. Then again, the grey mare was named ‘Saoirse’, which didn’t fit either.

  Saoirse is solidly built, her back even with Colt’s in height, but with thick, straight legs that appeared unbreakable compared to the rest of the herd. She speaks oddly, enough for even Colt to notice. She is from somewhere else and carried a herd name she refused to have changed; ‘it was a gift from the lead, accepted by my mother— I won’t be called anything else’.

  Colt walks next to Saoirse in the traveling group, sharing small snippets of their previous life. Saoirse is from somewhere with lots of rain and clouds, unbothered by the cold while Colt still catches himself shivering and shaking to keep the fur of his coat standing on end to trap his own heat. The mare advises the stallion to make sure snow keeps off his back whenever possible so it doesn’t melt and dampen his fur to the skin. Her own thick coat keeps the snow on its very top only to be blown away from her brisk walking.

  Saoirse joined up with Clay Fieldstep and Shadow Sky Sight only a few months ago. The herd of mares had no real purpose to their wanderings other than to find a more hospitable place for the winter that wasn’t already claimed by larger groups. Of her past, Saoirse says little about how she went from a large family herd to this snowy land. Colt gets no scolding from her, only a flat statement of ‘it’s not my life anymore’ when he asks again.

  She is hale and whole. Colt guesses there was some sort of disagreement, based on the lack of strong emotions from the grey mare. He won’t push— it was only trail chatter.

  Claystep, as Colt hears her called, leads. She and Sky Sight are herd mates, not sisters. Despite being the youngest of the mares, Claystep leads before anyone asks or says otherwise. She has a short but thick coat, a build for running, three white hooves and a leaf-shaped mark on her forehead. She trudges through the covering of snow without much talk, powerful shoulders rippling as she creates an easier path for the rest. The dark stripes on her shoulders are fascinated to Colt— he hasn’t seen anything like it. Striped knees, a line marking her spine from mane to tail, and markings like dripping water starting at her withers. Snow builds up on her feet, clinging to the dense feathering that furnishes her fetlocks.

  She is protective and unamused with any antics of Sky Sight, but doesn’t scold or snap with any intensity other than mild annoyance. Claystep is always on alert for danger to let her herd sister play and chatter without fear. It is endearing— Colt doesn’t say anything and keeps out of her way, recognizing the youngest mare is the most serious of them and takes safety and security very seriously.

  Sky Sight, the black mare with irregular splotches of white on her flank and head, is friendliest. She is happy to talk the entire day, stride always with a little extra energy in it. Her mane drapes over her poll and down to the side, longer the further down her neck it goes. To Colt’s surprise, she’s the oldest of them all— with seven springs aging her. She grew up in the same herd as Claystep, into a long-legged mare with a similar build to the red mare. She is not as muscular, but her easy strides speak of hidden speed.

  Skysight calls Colt “Spotty” while Saoirse uses “Leader”. Claystep doesn’t say anything more than “Hey you,” or “Stranger” even when Colt greets her politely. It is fine. The young stallion isn’t wanting for anything more than company— Claystep’s prickly exterior is blunted by the other two mares. They show him ways to identify possible food under the snow based on the surrounding plants and landmarks. Despite the temperatures, water has not yet frozen through a thin crust on the surface. Saoirse smashes a pond’s protection and warns Colt of walking on top of ice as they take turns drinking water that is still warmer than the air.

  Claystep talks of the signs of local predators; wolves, bears, and a small thing called a wolverine Colt hasn’t heard mentioned before. He knows of mountain lions, bears, and coyotes— by story, not by encounter. He has smelled wolves before— didn’t know they were much different from coyotes. While coyotes were easily scared off, a herd of wolves— called a pack by Claystep— could keep pace with a horse until his legs gave out. If he could stand his ground, he should. A hunter likes nothing less than a fighter.

  Injuries could mean serious danger in the cold valley. All predators went for the smallest and weakest. Colt wasn’t the smallest, but he wasn’t big either. And the cuts on his leg— should be fine, Saoirse reassures him with an amused rumble when Claystep doesn’t let up on her fear-inducing description. He doesn’t even have a limp from so minor a cut now that the day has passed long enough for the skin to stop dripping red.

  The grey mare says the wolves prefer deer, following large herds of elk this time of year. Stallions were not a popular target if they could still kick. An injured predator could call off the whole group, if the one doing the damage was still standing strong after.

  Winter’s short sunlight started fading sooner than Colt wanted— he felt as if they had made little progress, roaming the area for something better. Claystep was not satisfied with their options but Skysight talked her into picking something for the night. A sheltered area with a little extra protection from the wind and cold air is a good place to graze through the colder hours. Taking turns watching, grazing, and dosing was easily organized, leaving Colt to lie down first and give his aching ankle a break.

DESCRIPTION TRACKER
Stallion ID: Colt #141
In response to: N/A
Art features: Shadow Sky Sight , Clay Fieldstep , Saoirse
Story features: Shadow Sky Sight , Clay Fieldstep , Saoirse
Word Count: 1100

Healing: Colt i(2/2)
Pregnancy: N/A
Rolls: Normal Rolls

Description

The young stallion sleeps, comforted by the presence of the more experienced mares around him grazing and keeping watch.

Pose Reference and Pose Reference by EquinePhotoandStock
Pose Reference by MountainViewStock

Background Inspiration by Coccineus

<< Previous < Colt's Story > Next >>

Cottonwood Valley, First Night

  When the sun starts to sink in the cloudless sky, the orange mare begins to look for a good place to spend the night sheltered away from the worst of the wind. Traveling together with someone else is nice— even though Colt felt as if he was the odd one out of the small group.

  Yes, Colt did know his name wasn’t really a proper name— that realization happened earlier that year when he began to wander away from familiar cattle herds. The young stallion was meek enough to have accepted another name from this group, but it didn’t seem to happen. Then again, the grey mare was named ‘Saoirse’, which didn’t fit either.

  Saoirse is solidly built, her back even with Colt’s in height, but with thick, straight legs that appeared unbreakable compared to the rest of the herd. She speaks oddly, enough for even Colt to notice. She is from somewhere else and carried a herd name she refused to have changed; ‘it was a gift from the lead, accepted by my mother— I won’t be called anything else’.

  Colt walks next to Saoirse in the traveling group, sharing small snippets of their previous life. Saoirse is from somewhere with lots of rain and clouds, unbothered by the cold while Colt still catches himself shivering and shaking to keep the fur of his coat standing on end to trap his own heat. The mare advises the stallion to make sure snow keeps off his back whenever possible so it doesn’t melt and dampen his fur to the skin. Her own thick coat keeps the snow on its very top only to be blown away from her brisk walking.

  Saoirse joined up with Clay Fieldstep and Shadow Sky Sight only a few months ago. The herd of mares had no real purpose to their wanderings other than to find a more hospitable place for the winter that wasn’t already claimed by larger groups. Of her past, Saoirse says little about how she went from a large family herd to this snowy land. Colt gets no scolding from her, only a flat statement of ‘it’s not my life anymore’ when he asks again.

  She is hale and whole. Colt guesses there was some sort of disagreement, based on the lack of strong emotions from the grey mare. He won’t push— it was only trail chatter.

  Claystep, as Colt hears her called, leads. She and Sky Sight are herd mates, not sisters. Despite being the youngest of the mares, Claystep leads before anyone asks or says otherwise. She has a short but thick coat, a build for running, three white hooves and a leaf-shaped mark on her forehead. She trudges through the covering of snow without much talk, powerful shoulders rippling as she creates an easier path for the rest. The dark stripes on her shoulders are fascinated to Colt— he hasn’t seen anything like it. Striped knees, a line marking her spine from mane to tail, and markings like dripping water starting at her withers. Snow builds up on her feet, clinging to the dense feathering that furnishes her fetlocks.

  She is protective and unamused with any antics of Sky Sight, but doesn’t scold or snap with any intensity other than mild annoyance. Claystep is always on alert for danger to let her herd sister play and chatter without fear. It is endearing— Colt doesn’t say anything and keeps out of her way, recognizing the youngest mare is the most serious of them and takes safety and security very seriously.

  Sky Sight, the black mare with irregular splotches of white on her flank and head, is friendliest. She is happy to talk the entire day, stride always with a little extra energy in it. Her mane drapes over her poll and down to the side, longer the further down her neck it goes. To Colt’s surprise, she’s the oldest of them all— with seven springs aging her. She grew up in the same herd as Claystep, into a long-legged mare with a similar build to the red mare. She is not as muscular, but her easy strides speak of hidden speed.

  Skysight calls Colt “Spotty” while Saoirse uses “Leader”. Claystep doesn’t say anything more than “Hey you,” or “Stranger” even when Colt greets her politely. It is fine. The young stallion isn’t wanting for anything more than company— Claystep’s prickly exterior is blunted by the other two mares. They show him ways to identify possible food under the snow based on the surrounding plants and landmarks. Despite the temperatures, water has not yet frozen through a thin crust on the surface. Saoirse smashes a pond’s protection and warns Colt of walking on top of ice as they take turns drinking water that is still warmer than the air.

  Claystep talks of the signs of local predators; wolves, bears, and a small thing called a wolverine Colt hasn’t heard mentioned before. He knows of mountain lions, bears, and coyotes— by story, not by encounter. He has smelled wolves before— didn’t know they were much different from coyotes. While coyotes were easily scared off, a herd of wolves— called a pack by Claystep— could keep pace with a horse until his legs gave out. If he could stand his ground, he should. A hunter likes nothing less than a fighter.

  Injuries could mean serious danger in the cold valley. All predators went for the smallest and weakest. Colt wasn’t the smallest, but he wasn’t big either. And the cuts on his leg— should be fine, Saoirse reassures him with an amused rumble when Claystep doesn’t let up on her fear-inducing description. He doesn’t even have a limp from so minor a cut now that the day has passed long enough for the skin to stop dripping red.

  The grey mare says the wolves prefer deer, following large herds of elk this time of year. Stallions were not a popular target if they could still kick. An injured predator could call off the whole group, if the one doing the damage was still standing strong after.

  Winter’s short sunlight started fading sooner than Colt wanted— he felt as if they had made little progress, roaming the area for something better. Claystep was not satisfied with their options but Skysight talked her into picking something for the night. A sheltered area with a little extra protection from the wind and cold air is a good place to graze through the colder hours. Taking turns watching, grazing, and dosing was easily organized, leaving Colt to lie down first and give his aching ankle a break.

DESCRIPTION TRACKER
Stallion ID: Colt #141
In response to: N/A
Art features: Shadow Sky Sight , Clay Fieldstep , Saoirse
Story features: Shadow Sky Sight , Clay Fieldstep , Saoirse
Word Count: 1100

Healing: Colt i(2/2)
Pregnancy: N/A
Rolls: Normal Rolls