Post by Shanza on Oct 5, 2008 20:14:54 GMT -5
The Mortigi tell a legend of a sandy colored filly born upon the plains. Her name was Valmorth, and the only exceptional thing about her was her unusual color. She was quiet and kept to herself, for she was often teased by the other foals about her coat. Instead of playing and having fun with them, she would run on her own, traveling farther and farther away from the band as she got older. Her dam grew increasingly worried, for the young filly would only sometimes respond to her calls. The band stallion often had to go after her, and she received bite after bite on the hip for her disobedience.
When Valmorth reached her third birthday, a horn was strong and stout upon her brow. Unfortunately for the teen, she did not fill in and grow strong and tall like the others, and that made them jest only more. The colts from nearby bands and herds came to court the other fillies, but never Valmorth. For Valmorth was too lanky, too thin, too wiry to be beautiful and strong.
Her wanderings had never ceased, but now, they lengthened in time. She would disappear for days at a time, and be throughly chastened when she returned. Even the three-year-olds who teased were worried about her safety. Soon though, every one got used to her wanderings, even her mother, who accepted it as eventuality. Valmorth started vanishing for a week, then two, then three. When she vanished for a month, no one took much notice. The following winter she was gone, and only returned late in the spring after her fourth birthday, much to the surprise of the band.
She was different now, not any more gracious or filled in or tall and strong, but she possessed a savage beauty that both invoked desire and fear in the stallions who beheld her. Scars adorned her sides as well as her horn. She was not of their type, all could see that. Where they were powerful, she was thin, where they were strong, she was sharp. She was a deadly weapon with no soft edges or forgiveness. They were dangerous, but not deadly.
She took her leave soon after her arrival, and was not seen again for four more years.
When Valmorth reached her third birthday, a horn was strong and stout upon her brow. Unfortunately for the teen, she did not fill in and grow strong and tall like the others, and that made them jest only more. The colts from nearby bands and herds came to court the other fillies, but never Valmorth. For Valmorth was too lanky, too thin, too wiry to be beautiful and strong.
Her wanderings had never ceased, but now, they lengthened in time. She would disappear for days at a time, and be throughly chastened when she returned. Even the three-year-olds who teased were worried about her safety. Soon though, every one got used to her wanderings, even her mother, who accepted it as eventuality. Valmorth started vanishing for a week, then two, then three. When she vanished for a month, no one took much notice. The following winter she was gone, and only returned late in the spring after her fourth birthday, much to the surprise of the band.
She was different now, not any more gracious or filled in or tall and strong, but she possessed a savage beauty that both invoked desire and fear in the stallions who beheld her. Scars adorned her sides as well as her horn. She was not of their type, all could see that. Where they were powerful, she was thin, where they were strong, she was sharp. She was a deadly weapon with no soft edges or forgiveness. They were dangerous, but not deadly.
She took her leave soon after her arrival, and was not seen again for four more years.
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