Thanks For The Memories
Dec 9, 2014 5:44:58 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 9, 2014 5:44:58 GMT -5
the bright chestnut stallion strode confidently into this land of white and cream, his nostrils flaring as he took in the scents. Others lived here now, lived in a place that had brought him happiness and pain. His unmarked head lowered to the ground , sighing softly. His white stockinged legs matched the land well as he stood and closed his eyes.
Over there, that was where Ambrosia had told him that she was with foal. And over there was where Adonis gave up her fight for life. And still more memories flooded his mind. His once amazing lead madethat never rreturned to him. His son that had to hide. So many memories. The chestnut head lifted and turned, looking at the scars covering his hide. The world was just cruel. Oh, how he wished Avershon was alive once more. Sighing, he folded his legs and lay in the soft grasses.
As he lay, he grazed. Eros was not a weak stallion, but he was older and perhaps wiser. He had learned love and friendship as well as pain and suffering. He had also learned that he enjoyed his alone time. No, he was not a hermit, but he just did not have a herd anymore. Did he want one? Maybe. But what he wanted now was the memories that lived here.
He stretched out onto his side and closed his eyes, letting the memories take over reality. He drifted between wakefulness and dreams, waking only when he grew hungry and thirsty. Once those were quenched, he returned to his side and his dreams.
Over there, that was where Ambrosia had told him that she was with foal. And over there was where Adonis gave up her fight for life. And still more memories flooded his mind. His once amazing lead madethat never rreturned to him. His son that had to hide. So many memories. The chestnut head lifted and turned, looking at the scars covering his hide. The world was just cruel. Oh, how he wished Avershon was alive once more. Sighing, he folded his legs and lay in the soft grasses.
As he lay, he grazed. Eros was not a weak stallion, but he was older and perhaps wiser. He had learned love and friendship as well as pain and suffering. He had also learned that he enjoyed his alone time. No, he was not a hermit, but he just did not have a herd anymore. Did he want one? Maybe. But what he wanted now was the memories that lived here.
He stretched out onto his side and closed his eyes, letting the memories take over reality. He drifted between wakefulness and dreams, waking only when he grew hungry and thirsty. Once those were quenched, he returned to his side and his dreams.