Okay, so I wanted to write a story about a horse. Sooo, this one is about Imi before she became a riding animal. Who said she was born into captivity? My story explores the idea that perhaps she was once wild, running free on the plains of the Hutmoors. This is her story.
Enjoy!!
Disclaimer: The idea is completely, totally mine! Yay! -dances- However, Imi nor any of the other characters are mine.
Silence approached the lands in a wave, overtaking everything in its path. The night was swept along with it, but instead it settled like an azure blanket across the sky, dotted with little diamonds of light.
One of these tiny stars, high above in the deep blue heavens, was reflected in two dark orbs that gazed over the silent country, the serene sky. The optics were cold and filled with mistrust as they looked back and forth, back and forth. Finally, the assessment completed, a deep breath echoed along her lungs, and the owner of the eyes, a maiden by the name of Imi, let out a high trilling whinny, to signal her arrival to any who might listen, enemy and friend alike, although Imi knew no friends. Before rivals, she would do her best to stand tall and strong, not cowering in the face of her adversities, although some antagonists would likely get the best of her, fearful as she was. However, in the presence of those who might accept her, she was eagerly demure, and would be polite to those mentioned. If there were any.
The vixen stood for a few moments longer, letting the gentle, whispering breeze caress her sable mane, tossing it in front of her endless voids. Then slowly, knowing her call had alerted some who might come looking in the curiosity native to their species, she stepped forwards on slender legs, her hooves echoing on the rocky stones of the cliffs and forests. Tossing her delicate head, she picked up her pace into a gallop, her strides carrying her swiftly and silently down to the plains, the moonlight that filtered through the dank clouds making her seem a silver fire, a flashing ghost that raced with hoofbeats...faster, ever faster...
And so the mare named Imi, whose heart had been crushed, broken, and deserted, raced towards a land of uncertainty, where more of the same was likely to happen again, and she would once more lay desolate upon the forgotten sands of time, wasting away within her brokeness.
And yet, there was always a small glimmer of hope…
For wild hearts cannot be broken, right?
i totally stole that last line. it's from a movie. an AWESOME movie. go watch it. or you can just review. it's easier.