The one and Only [[open]]

[twi]

Rook grinned to himself. This was what life was all about. He tossed a luxurious mane and rolled his shoulders experimentally, a smirk covering his whole face.
Mine, mine, mine, the words repeated themselves over in his mind. They wanted to spill over, to flow out of his mouth in tangible words. And of course, he let them.
“Mineeee!”
He was a bit embarrassed afterwards, because he wasn’t like that, not really. Of course every stallion enjoyed having a little territory for himself, but decided after a moment’s reflection that he had just sounded plain greedy. The sound of his words had sounded grasping, petty, and he did not like the sound of them. He lifted his sloping shoulders in an equine-version of a shrug. Everyone was entitled to a little greediness now and then and this was definitely the opportunity to use his entitlement.
Quite simply, he had discovered a little flaw in Ramaskith’s grand plan. The stallion had dragged along all his forces to go invade the North, leaving everything else virtually unprotected. Great swathes of land, forests, meadows and valleys all lay deserted, nominally Rama’s territory, but Rook guessed that the stallion wouldn’t be back for quite awhile. In the meantime, he planned to enjoy himself to the full.
He stretched himself up proudly on the hill overlooking a flat tangle of vegetation below, a prime grazing area. He was alone, but he didn’t mind the fact. He did not need anyone else to make his day complete.

[R e d e m p t i o n]

Orwyne

She floated effortlessly over the sinking lush green terrain as though she had lived here her whole life. Her lithe body and athletic legs like a feather in the wind. Her long mane and tail trailed perfectly behind her and shined with the sun. Orwyne slowed to the walk and grabbed a bit of vegetation as a snack while she headed out and away from the wetland. The smells here were unfamiliar to her, but something was off. She stopped abruptly and liften her muzzle to the sky, breathing in the crisp mountain air, and exhaling harshly, fluttering her nostrils and lifting her upper lip.
Stallion.
Perking her ears she arched her neck to survey the area.
Not wanting to get caught she quickly lowered her stand and started to slowly trot off toward more hard ground, where her small hooves would make no sound against the lush green floor.
As she reached more stable ground, she stood quietly behind a tree and continued to survey the land with her small, inquisitive eyes.

[Quill]

Little Gunnhild was picking her way down the mountains and into the meadow below, her ears swiveling about her, picking up every sound that came her way. With the air growing colder, she'd already grown out a fairly decent winter coat. The looked quite cute; not beautiful, but cute. She was short and stocky with a fluffy coat. Her eyes were a rich chocolate brown and she had perky little ears. Her mane stuck up in a mohawk and her tail was long and thick. And she was painfully short at only 14hh.

The funny looking mare bounced into the meadow in a cheerful trot, her head held high and ears forward. It was such a gorgeous day! The muscles in her neck contracted as if she were squealing, but no sound came out as she bolted forward across the meadow, kicking up her heals.

But her joy was soon cut short. The sound of a stag's voice cut through the air and she froze. She spun herself around and stared, terrified at the larger stallion standing a top a hill. Her eyes were wide and scared, her nares enlarged. She moved to back into the shelter of surrounding trees when her hoof landed on a stick, cracking it loudly. She whimpered silently to herself and stayed as still as possible, her eyes glued on the stallion before her.

Her heart skipped another beat when the soft sound of hooves came from nearby. She turned her head just enough to see the mare just twenty feet from her. A very clear crap. look masked her face as she looked back and forth between the two larger horses.

[twi]

Rook could feel the familiar tingling along his spine as he surveyed the seemingly deserted land before him. He was not alone. The sharp crack of a twig confirmed his suspicions and he had to hide a smile as he looked down at the land below. Whoever was trying to hide from him was not doing a very good job of it. Upon further reflection, he decided that maybe his cry had scared it off. Now he was annoyed at himself for letting his overflowing joy at finding such a gem of land get the better of him. But then of course, the illusive being below had no reason to be afraid, because it was not a war cry he had bugled, or anything of the sort. It was a shy mare most like, simply coy around stallions or mortally afraid of them. Either way, he was not going to go and seek this mystery out, if it was really so intent in remaining secluded. So long as it didn’t try to challenge him, he didn’t mind its presence. Though, he decided, it wouldn’t hurt to at least call out and let it know that he was alerted to its - her? - presence.
“You’re welcome to stay hidden, but I’m not Ramaskith, you know. Just another stallion trying to make his way in the world and so long as you’re not anything edible, I won’t bite, either.”
There, he had done his part. He wasn’t responsible for whatever choice his shy companion made. He snorted in a satisfied manner, black eyes roving the scenery for a moment before he deliberately turned around, trotting towards a juicy clump of grass a few feet away.

[R e d e m p t i o n]

Orwyne

She bolted like a wolf after a rabbit, from the trees and into the open again. She hadn't bolted by fear, but by pressure of being in such a secluded area when others had made it clear that they were near.
Her thin powerful legs spun mud behind her, her then beautiful red chestnut coat was now soaked with thick dark mud. Slowing to an abrupt stop she surveyed, listening again for the voice she'd experienced moments before. She lifted her muzzle and breathed.
Let the excitement flow.
She flicked her tail and tossed her mud covered mane.
Then she whinnied aloud.
"I don't think I'm edible unless your a carnivour." Orwyne snickered, pawing the ground.
The scent was strong, somewhere, lurked this stallion. Would she approach him? Was it safe, or should she flee?
She rolled her lithe shoulders.
Orwyne the Silent.
She tossed her head.
Friends were not on her list, at least, not today.
Quietly, she began to walk, not even trying to be quiet.
She allowed her hooves to splash with the wetland obnoxiously.
Games could be played, games could be played.