To Claim a Home
Jun 4, 2013 15:11:54 GMT -5
Post by bullseye on Jun 4, 2013 15:11:54 GMT -5
This land was a mish mash of climates and terrains. By the time Laughlin had managed to grasp that the river at which he'd met Angel and her family wound through the entirety of this place they called Sunshine River, he'd already wandered through miles of unfamiliar territory. He'd bumped into a variety of other equines, some hostile, some friendly. One amused mare had been kind enough to give him the name of the place and send him in the general direction of the land's claimable territories. She'd warned him that most of the lands were occupied, but here and there, various terras remained barren of equine occupants.
Somehow, her advice to tread lightly through the territories was not enough to convince Laughlin to fly under the radar. After the first two encounters with angry stallions and several new bite and hoof marks marring his spotted hide, Laughlin finally got the point. He'd been wandering since the afternoon of the day before, not even pausing to rest during the night, but even his impatience to end his mad search could not convince Laughlin to continue his haphazard and aggressive tactics.
Eventually, the young stallion took to using the sniff-trumpet-listen tactic, as he called it in his head. He'd approach a territory and scent around for any sign of an equine. If no smell of horse reached his nostrils, he'd send out a trumpet, then pause and await a replying sound from a fellow stallion. Were a stallion present, he high-tailed it out of the terra as fast as his legs could take him.
This particular place, though, was a sight to behold. The scent stage of his approach had returned negative results--in fact, the air smelled sweet and quite void of his kind. Raising his voice in a loud trumpet had resulted in no return call, so Laughlin had wandered further into the land.
Though he was certain no snow had yet fallen, this place was as desaturated as any land covered by a winter snow could be. The speckled stud lowered his nose to the grass and snuffled at the ground. No doubt, the sweet smelling grass lacked any form of frozen moisture. The sky and trees also were of albino coloring. Laughlin felt quite sure that his eyes had not lost their ability to see color, and yet, he'd never seen a land such as this. Frankly, despite its strangeness, this place was quite beautiful.
Taking one more look around, the young stallion elected to take a chance.
Tossing his head back, Laughlin let out a pealing claiming scream. He watched and listened, awaiting some form of reply, but heard no challenging call. Giving a satisfied snort, the stallion glanced around what was now his terra.
Now, it seemed, it was time to retrieve his herd. And then, finally, the weary little band could finally rest in peace.
Somehow, her advice to tread lightly through the territories was not enough to convince Laughlin to fly under the radar. After the first two encounters with angry stallions and several new bite and hoof marks marring his spotted hide, Laughlin finally got the point. He'd been wandering since the afternoon of the day before, not even pausing to rest during the night, but even his impatience to end his mad search could not convince Laughlin to continue his haphazard and aggressive tactics.
Eventually, the young stallion took to using the sniff-trumpet-listen tactic, as he called it in his head. He'd approach a territory and scent around for any sign of an equine. If no smell of horse reached his nostrils, he'd send out a trumpet, then pause and await a replying sound from a fellow stallion. Were a stallion present, he high-tailed it out of the terra as fast as his legs could take him.
This particular place, though, was a sight to behold. The scent stage of his approach had returned negative results--in fact, the air smelled sweet and quite void of his kind. Raising his voice in a loud trumpet had resulted in no return call, so Laughlin had wandered further into the land.
Though he was certain no snow had yet fallen, this place was as desaturated as any land covered by a winter snow could be. The speckled stud lowered his nose to the grass and snuffled at the ground. No doubt, the sweet smelling grass lacked any form of frozen moisture. The sky and trees also were of albino coloring. Laughlin felt quite sure that his eyes had not lost their ability to see color, and yet, he'd never seen a land such as this. Frankly, despite its strangeness, this place was quite beautiful.
Taking one more look around, the young stallion elected to take a chance.
Tossing his head back, Laughlin let out a pealing claiming scream. He watched and listened, awaiting some form of reply, but heard no challenging call. Giving a satisfied snort, the stallion glanced around what was now his terra.
Now, it seemed, it was time to retrieve his herd. And then, finally, the weary little band could finally rest in peace.
