Clover || 1 Year, 3 Months || Plains Herd Yearling || M: Epiales, Loki, Oren (Ind), Feanor (Ind), Cicely (Ind)

Clover always enjoyed pestering her brother in the morning. It, besides adventure, was what she always looked forward to doing at the break of dawn. In a sense, this action had become sort of a game to her over the years. See how long it took for her to get her brother up and moving for the day by annoying him to no end. It was incredibly fun! For her, anyway. This time, he had lasted longer than usual – ignoring her insistent nudges and shoves until she began to grip his favorite lock of mane.

“Alright! I’m up! I’m up,” the bay mare was forced to yank herself back quickly as to not get hit by his swinging head – dropping the bundle of hair immediately as to not yank it out. A nicker left her as he began to move his bulky form into a standing position, but it undoubtedly went unheard by the larger stallion who never reacted to it.

Taking a few minutes to ensure he was ready, she rushed excitedly to his side – shoving herself into him with a good amount of force – and began to push him towards the rest of the herd. There was no way she’d be letting him stay on its boundaries all day long like she knew he’d do. Not at all.

Her rapidfire questions started soon after she noticed his silent protest and nervous picking. He had the tendency to cleanse her fur of any leaves or grass she hadn’t bothered to shake off upon waking. This action, for some reason, helped him to retain some semblance of security whenever they approached the herd. Personally, Clover could never understand why he’d ever want to separate himself from the rest of the herd. But she… mostly respected his decisions, even if she tried her hardest to get him involved with the other yearlings besides her and Loki.

Eventually, their conversation developed into one of their daily challenges – with a simple bump to his shoulder and a giggling snort being its ignitor. Honestly, it was as though the two had developed their own language over the years with simple body movements, touches, and the occasional sound. This one in particular was a signal for a favorite game of theirs. Tag. Or, as she called it, “catch me if ya can!” Tag was just… too generic of a name for a mare like her.

Per usual, her ghostly brother took aim at her neck – missing by a mere inch – as she jumped back and took off running. (Seriously, get a new move Epiales. I dodge it every time. I want a challenge!) She could hear the pounding of the hefty male’s hooves following her seconds after. They were much louder than her own, but not as quick. Despite being nowhere near as strong as he, Clover had a knack for speed. And her brother… well, let’s just say he was rather lacking in that area. What his bulk provided him in strength, it took away from speed. At least they evenly matched in stamina for the time being.

Their “quarrel” took them all around the herd – running back and forth, from end to end in semi straight lines (most of the time) – filling the air with snorts, nickers, whoops, and even the occasional joy-filled squeal from the female herself when her brother got a bit too close for comfort. Occasionally, the mare would glance back to observe the distance between the two of them as well as throw an nagging “insult” towards her brother that he would return with either a surge of speed or a snarky remark of his own. The lack of uncertainty that seemed to reside within him caused pride to stir within her chest, glad that she could be the one that could make him so at ease.

However, the two quickly grew a bit too careless in the short time they played. Halfway through yet another trip across the herd, Clover had settled on the bright idea of increasing her speed – turning her canter in a full-throttle gallop. Her timing couldn’t have been any worse. At the sound of her thundering hooves, a tiny, palomino head popped up from the long grass – nearly invisible if not for the coloration itself. It swivels towards her incoming form in fright, ears pinned and eyes shaking.

Oh, shi-

Having to act quickly, Clover slams her front legs into the ground and pushes off with her hind ones – leaping over the startled foal before she turns him into a furry pancake. She lands not too far from his small form and proceeds to take off again, changing her direction to steer her brother away from the fragile being.

“Sorry, Oren!”

I really hope no one saw that! Please tell me that no one saw that!

With a slightly shaky form, Clover continues to run about with her brother – slowing her pace back canter in case there were any more foals hiding within the tall foliage. Thankfully, their fun soon picks back up once more, and their trips around the herd begin to take on more random and “zig-zaggy” shapes. Eventually, one of their trips had them running by yet another young stallion. This time, it was the dark form of Loki that stood in front of them. Not something that she could easily run over, nor a horse that was hard to miss. Though, upon noticing his “lack of a buddy,” the amber-eyed female purposely ran as close as possible to him to extend an offer.
“Come on, Loki, join us,” she shouts as she passes by, Epiales still hot in pursuit. She knew not whether he did join in on their games or stayed behind, as she was too focused on staying out of the black and white stallion’s reach for just a little bit longer.

A masculine whinny broke through the air just as she was about to make one final trip around the herd before switching roles. She couldn’t tell who or what it was aimed at, but she knew it was from someone she had never encountered before. A surge of excitement ran through her veins as she came to a stop as quickly as she could. Her head whipped towards the where the sound resonated from, spotting red roan stallion pawing at the ground and showing off his muscles. Clover honestly would have considered him to be quite attractive if not for her current age and lack of interest in being a mother. However, what really intrigued her was simply the fact it was a new horse with different experiences. Oh, the questions she could ask.

Before she could even think of making her way over, Epiales stepped in front of her – forming a protective stance that was angled towards the stallion. The dark bay mare almost scoffed at his actions, even if she was partially flattered. Did he really think he could stop her from running up to the stallion? She could easily trot around him. In fact, what was stopping her from doing so?

A second whinny sounded – this one feminine and familiar. Flickering her eyes upwards (when had she looked down?) she spots the lead mare herself, who had moved to stand between the stallion and the herd. And she did not look pleased. The red stallion, in response, trotted off to who knows where. The bay female couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed in this exchange, but could do nothing but watch as all those possible questions faded from sight and mind.

Oh well. Perhaps, another time.

Oren || 1 Month || Colt || Plains Herd Foal || M: Clover, Epiales, Tipper, Kokoro, Cicely (Ind), Oarlock (Ind), Feanor (Ind), Herd Members (Ind)

Oren was one of the last herd members to wake up. His slumber had dragged him down into the world of dreams, where he was as big and mighty as any other stallion on the plains! Where everyone looked up to him, and he was their protector. He defended the weak, chased off the greedy, and took in the poor. There, he was the best thing to have ever been born on the plains. However, outside of his dreams, he was nothing but a small colt with the bravery the size of a snail. But he was working on it! He’d become the stallion from his dreams… someday.

Outside of his dreams, the small colt had curled himself into as much of a ball as he could. Surrounded by long blades of grass, he was nearly invisible to the naked eye – his petite form just barely making an appearance over top of the “humongous” blades around him. Perfect for hiding his tiny form from any danger that may arise. However, this advantage had its disadvantages. For while he can easily remain hidden from predators, he is also hard to spot for the larger horses of the herd. And that is exactly what shattered his restful sleep.

Pound hooves shook the ground around him as whoops, cries, and laughs vibrated his world – startling the poor little fellow from the wonderful dream that he could only wish to reenter. He lifts his puny head up in an incredibly quick movement and turns it towards the source of the noise, nearly giving himself whiplash from the force produced. His ears pinned back as he attempted to assess the situation. Before he could even process what truly was going on, though, a sudden shadow passed over top of his head at blazing speeds – confusing and scaring the living daylights out of the palomino foal even more than the sounds before it. A thud follows the shadow, landing not too far from where he laid.

Jumping to his feet, watches as a somewhat familiar bay body speeds away from his position. A darker, much more intimidating body flies past not long after – either not taking notice or uncaring of his proximity to the foal.

“Sorry, Oren,” a voice shouts up ahead, undoubtedly female but one much too young to be anyone he had spoken to in recent days.

Standing in the same spot he had been laying, Oren stares after the retreating figures before bolting off in some random direction to simply get away from the high traffic area. After a few seconds of running, the terrified foal pauses to get his bearings. Taking a glance around his herd, he looks for anyone he could run to for protection. Off in the distance, he spots the same two yearlings continuing their rambunctious activities at a slower pace than before. He shuddered at the thought of being anywhere near them again.

Finally, his eyes land on a familiar and trustworthy horse. Cicely, her yearling, Kokoro, and her foal, Tipper, all stood together not far from his current position. With a high pitched nicker, he begins to trot his way over to the trio – hoping that he could catch Cicely before she decides to move.

His trip, for the most part, was silent and uneventful. He was left almost alone by the other horses of the herd, and he wasn’t almost trampled once more on his way over. All that really occurred was him pounding past by a rather large mare (he believed he had once heard someone refer to her as “Oarlock”) when he felt that he had gotten a touch too close to her for comfort. Well, that is, until a sharp and terrifying whinny broke the air around him. The colt’s trot turned into a gallop faster than one could ever blink, pushing his miniscule form through the tall and tough grass to what would hopefully be safety from the unfamiliar sound. Yet, when he arrived, there was no chocolate mare waiting for him. Instead, only the two young ones remained.

Bowing his head with flattened ears, the palomino foal took a single, gentle step backwards – feeling incredibly uncertain about the whole situation and taking no notice of what was happening beyond his little world.

The filly smiled warmly at her mother, returning the nuzzle while listening carefully to the words of the Lead Mare, nodding slowly in understanding. When her father had been here, it had been easier for the mares to watch their foals, but with him gone, the mares, and specifically her mother, had had to do more to keep them all safe. While it made her sad that none of her youngest siblings had met their father yet, she knew they could trust each other to get them all through such trying times.

"Of course, Ma," she said softly, taking a few steps forward to cast her gaze out across the herd in serach of her younger brother, a dark colt who took after both of their parents, although more like their mother. So far, he didn't seem to quite be bay, but a darker chocolate like their mother, whereas Kokoro had turned out a lighter shade of bay then her father had.

When she spotted the little colt coming over, easily stepping to the side to nicker a greeting to the foal. While all the foals and yearlings were her half-siblings, Tipper was her full younger sibling, as another child of Cicely and Chex, and she loved him dearly. She was protective of all of the foals, but found herself harboring a secret soft spot for a couple of them.

Kokoro watched the foal and her mother interact, enjoying their soft moment, when a whinny sounded across the valley. Her heart rose for only a moment, before it dropped down to her hooves. She knew, regardless of what she hoped, that that was not the voice of her father, and when she lifted her head to seek out the owner of the sound, she found she was right, a deep red roan stallion being the owner of the noise.

The word from Cicely broke her out of whatever heartbroken slump she'd momentarily dropped into, and Koko immediately moved towards her brother, taking up a position standing very close to the colt. She watched as attention shifted to the red stallion, her own being stolen by a lighter foal darting towards her and Tipper. Oren, a small foal that was seemingly palomino in his youth, had come to them, although was likely seeking her mother.

"Oren, stay with me," Koko said softly, making low sounds that she hoped were soothing to the two young foals. Both were only around or nearly a month old, and some of the younger foals in the herd. A touch of misplaced pride touched her mind, pride that her mother had trusted her to take care of the two younger colts.

When the bay filly looked up again, the red roan stallion was leaving, with her mother trotting off after him, giving orders to Ursa to take care of the herd in her absence. She leaned down, nuzzling Tipper softly, and extending her head towards Oren for contact if he wanted it or needed it.

"We'll be okay, my Ma, Ursa and the herd will keep us safe, and I'll beat up a stallion for you if you need me to anyway," she said, knowing full well she couldn't beat a stallion, but knowing she'd damn well try for her youngest brothers.

Leveau

Mare || 6 Yrs 9Mths || Herd Mare || Plains Herd || Mentions: Plains Herd [ ind. ] Feanor [ ind. ] Chex [ ind. ]

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Lying in the grass, the young paint was on her side, her legs outstretched and her head gently nestled into the thick blades of grass. She was quite tired- exhausted even, with all thats been happening.. the loss of their Lead Stallion, the pondering questions of where he was, was he heading to the valley, or if he was still alive. The questions haunted Leveau. Granted, she was never close to Chex, but she felt a sense of security and peace in his presence, but now with him gone, such feelings were no more.

Groggily, her eyes fluttered open to the sounds of movement all around her. That was her que to wake up. With a heavy and hesitant sigh, Lev pulled her legs up to her stomach and lifted her head up off the ground. Her mane was ruffled, and there were pieces of dead grass still stuck in between the small nots in her hair. Almost looked like she had a bed head. Looking around her, she saw a few of the mares were already up and ready to take on the day while a few of the foals were simply roughhousing. As her muscles groaned, Leveau hoisted herself up, her hooves stomped into the grassy floor below as she did so. When she was fully standing, she exhaled loudly, and began to shake rapidly, flakes of dirt and grass flung in all direction by just a few feet.

" Another day, another - " she began, but she was interrupted by the sounds of a whinny that was unknown to her personally, and she knew just about everyone in this herd. The call catched her attention almost instantly, and her ears were perked forward, listening for more. She looked beyond in the distance, and saw the source. A handsome red stud was standing still a bit away from the herd, his eyes looked fixated on the herd, making Lev feel uneasy. "Splendid.." she muttered to herself quietly. She took a few measely steps forward, planting her hooves into the ground with each step, her eyes stalking the stallion. She could hear the other mares moving around, moving their foals around to protect them from what may be a fight. Leveau's head bobbed up and down for a moment before she noticed their Lead Mare, Cicely. Now that Mare was a force not to be reckoned with. As their Lead Mare responded, and quite aggressively, it looked to see that the stallion took Cicely's call quite seriously, and Lev shortly lost sight of the stud.

"I'm not really up to starting my day with this kind of crap on an empty stomach." Lev shook her head, and began to graze, taking mouthfuls at a time, hoping to fill her empty void of a stomach before any more surprises.

Female | Herd Mare | Plains Herd | 6 yrs | Mentions: Ursa, Cicely [ind], Ursa [Ind], Herd [Ind], Feanor [Ind]

Raksasa watched, slightly disappointedly, as the lead mare stepped in front of the herd, almost challenging the stallion before he moved away out of sight. She huffed in annoyance. The lead mare got to have all the fun, talking to the stallions. Turning she trotted aimlessly through the herd, smiling at the playing fillies and colts that dashed around her. Stopping she found herself besid the deputy mare, who'd just finished scolding some well deserving foals. "Good Morning Ursa" she said, dipping her head slightly "Shouldn't someone have gone with the lead mare?" she asked hesitantly, speaking her mind. She just didn't see the safety in the one mare going to "check out" the stallion, especially not one like that.