flowerslegacy
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Joined: Jul 2007
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« Thread Started on Jul 4, 2007, 10:50pm » | ![[Quote]](http://s1.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
Named As Flowers Legacy
Known As Wild Fire
In Shape of A Stallion
Rainbowed Red/Sorrel
Marked with a blaze and nothing else
Bred in the Blood of Quarter Horse
Has walked for 10 years
In detail of truth His pelt blazes in the sunlight as red as a burning rose, His blaze runs down his long face before running off the left side past his nostril. His tail though colored as his coat it bleeds with black making the stripes of his, Three of his feet be white,
Owns the powers
Of Flight and Empathy
His Past Wild Fire was born in the wild, His mother was the Stallion of the herds mate, One fortunate evening Wild Fire found a man, He never having met a human before knew nothing of their trickory and deceving dance. And he was captured. Sold into Training he became talented at both Western and English when he was sold to a young girl. No more than ten she fell in love with him. He though broken into a bit and understanding to a rein was no longer partial to humans. Though he did not bite nor kick and would show small affection he did not like them.
But this girl showed him different, Though pushy and aggressive on saddle she was kind and loving to him, She was devoted to him and promised to never sell him. Though every spring his instincts would have him disobey her for his heart remembered the passing of seasons, this did not however break their bond, After several years by the time he was about seven she gave him an oppurtunity of a lifetime.
A wild horse reservation was opening near her ranch, She had learned about his history and how he had once been a wild mustang, So one morning just as dawn was breaking she rode him bareback to where she saw the wild horses running, His ears pricked as his feet became filled with energy for the run, She felt this and knew, she had learned all she could from him and him from her, She knew, She swung her leg over his sorrel back she had brushed so many times before and removed the hackamor she had used that Summer Day, And as though letting him out to pasture let him free.
Sample of his freedom The sorrel stallion ran threw the field across the meadows, His feet never tiring for he wished to return, To return back to whence he had left. He continued on until he came across the hill, the flowers no longer in bloom, the songbirds no longer singing, Though the ground sleeping with winter he knew this was where she had left him. Where his wild and primitive state had come back into being. But she was not to be seen, Not scented, He whinied in hopes she would come running like she had when he was young, But no sign, He paced at a canter turning in small turns. Though when she had let him free he had been glad and ready to return once more to the freedom, He know wished to know the soft touch of a young girls hands, to feel her lips graze over his tender nose, But instead he found an empty plain
The secret number (this is how we know you read the rules): ?? 54
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