M o j a v e -dead
Aug 25, 2011 17:54:50 GMT -5
Post by minerva on Aug 25, 2011 17:54:50 GMT -5
Name:Mojave
Age: 12
Breed: mustang
Height: 15 hands
Color: black
Eye color: brown
Gender: Mare
Markings: white line down her face
Offspring
History:Mojave grew up on a distant desert plateau. These horses were tough as nails, born to survival, and relied on their instincts more so than most other horses. The stallions were tough, on themselves, their herds, and each other, in order to keep the bloodlines strong and to ensure survival.
Mojave left her herd at young age and there she met a stallion named Warrior they had a family their first filly fell and broke her neck after two days and when men on horseback raided the lands. Her and her second filly was caught. Mojave fought hard kicking and screaming until the ropes that held her back snaped. Her filly was trampled in the choas, using her nose she fallowed Warrior's scent but there was way to many scencts and she was set off track a few time before she tracked him down. By that time another scent was with him and it was female. Mojave knew that herds and mares where a stallions thing but she could not help feel upset that Warrior had not tried to save her.
Turning away Mojave went the other way, she began to travel from place to please meeting new mares and stallions, some had tried to coax her to join their herds but in the back of her mind Warrior always remained and the thought of her lost daughters haunted her but she moved on and went she began to fallow a long endless river it opened up and new and curious world.
Age: 12
Breed: mustang
Height: 15 hands
Color: black
Eye color: brown
Gender: Mare
Markings: white line down her face
Offspring
| Name | Gender | Sire |
| ? | Filly | Warrior |
| ? | Filly | Warrior |
| Pumba | Colt | Warrior |
History:Mojave grew up on a distant desert plateau. These horses were tough as nails, born to survival, and relied on their instincts more so than most other horses. The stallions were tough, on themselves, their herds, and each other, in order to keep the bloodlines strong and to ensure survival.
Mojave left her herd at young age and there she met a stallion named Warrior they had a family their first filly fell and broke her neck after two days and when men on horseback raided the lands. Her and her second filly was caught. Mojave fought hard kicking and screaming until the ropes that held her back snaped. Her filly was trampled in the choas, using her nose she fallowed Warrior's scent but there was way to many scencts and she was set off track a few time before she tracked him down. By that time another scent was with him and it was female. Mojave knew that herds and mares where a stallions thing but she could not help feel upset that Warrior had not tried to save her.
Turning away Mojave went the other way, she began to travel from place to please meeting new mares and stallions, some had tried to coax her to join their herds but in the back of her mind Warrior always remained and the thought of her lost daughters haunted her but she moved on and went she began to fallow a long endless river it opened up and new and curious world.