Post by Forte on Jun 29, 2010 13:18:32 GMT -5
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Name: Natavi
Age: Five Years
Gender: Mare
Breed: Spanish Barb with occasional strains of mustang or others thrown in
Height: 15.1 HH
Physical Description: Natavi is not an exceptionally pretty mare, with a short, squat body, heavy by nature. She is exceptionally big and hefty for a mare, with a brusqueness about her that suggests nothing approaching gentility. Bay sabino in color, she sports four white legs and a wide blaze between her alert, dark eyes. A rabicano-like marking surrounds her barrel, whiter and thicker at her waist. The dock of her tail is likewise frosted with white. She has a generally healthy, strong air that suggests that she knows well enough how to take care of herself. The angle of her neck, of her tail, is almost cocky, suggesting that she will submit to no one. Though she's not exactly the tallest, she has height due to a more recent strain of Thoroughbred and Quarter Horse released on the range to improve the wild stock. She somehow exudes power, and the look in her eyes convinces most that she is to be left well alone.
Personality: Natavi is certainly an exceptional mare. She knows how to take care of herself, and knows how to fight. More than once a stallion larger than her has come off the worst after paying a little too much attention to her. She is a strong-minded, obstinate sort of horse, with a good amount of range intelligence and no fear beyond the ordinary. Her fight instinct is a good deal stronger than that for fight, and she has been known to go for things as large as a coyote, even, once, having driven away a cougar. She has not yet met a wolf, although it certainly would be like her to go straight at it. She is not rash, rather she feels in her the indomitable spirit of the wild, and feels that horses ought to stand up to more of the predatory kind. She will not back down from anything, and once she has set her mind on something she is determined to carry that something out to its fullest extent.
She feels that the world belongs to stallions and is governed by their rules, and hates it, for she knows that she could be as good a leader, or even better, perhaps, then some of the fool-hardy branch. She is quite willing to fight them, and whenever they will take her on she will. In fighting she is vicious, a powerhouse, and has an exceptional amount of willpower. She will not give up. She's not submissive to any one, and for that reason has not been able to find herself a good herd. And the stupid laws of stallions dictate that she cannot start her own. She hates the laws of the land, is rebellious against them, and has determined to sink her teeth in and never let go. Perhaps she is a bit rash, a little devoid of the motherly instincts of most mares, but this hardly bothers her. After all, she is tough, and she is hardy, and she has hooves and teeth as strong as theirs.
History: Natavi has had an exceptional life. Born in a year and a place where winter had encroached upon spring and the frost would not let up, it is something of a miracle that she survived at all. The small band of tough mountain horses that she was born into was hit hard by the cold, and a good deal of foals and ever grown horses fell victim to the frost or predators. The band had no choice but to migrate continually, with pregnant mares and small foals tacked on, and none of the other foals born that season survived. Yet, Natavi, with the sort of natural instinct that would follow her later, clung to life like a tick. Before she was weaned she could already eat some of the bark on the barren trees, and her hooves were as hard as iron. When at last the frost let up she thrived in the sunlight of the valleys and could climb the side of the mountain as well as any mountain goat.
The place in which they had now come, however, was plagued by men, breeders of high-quality Quarter Horses who thought Mustangs a scourge on the land. When the lead stallion - on one of those stupid ventures that stallions so often go on, mated with several of the Quarter Horse mares and got many of them pregnant, the men determined to round up and destroy the mustangs. Over the next few days they did just that, shooting those that got away and sending the rest off to be destroyed. Natavi and her mother broke from the group and began a desperate flight across the countryside, where they were attacked by wolves. They killed Natavi's mother, who was suffering from a shotgun wound to the haunch, and the little filly sat trembling in a bush while they tore her apart. The wolves, hunger appeased, went away without killing Natavi.
It was her luck that a man, a normal sort of fellow and a studier of plants, was coming up to see a bloom of cactus and came upon Natavi nuzzling her dead mother and giving pitiful little whinnies. He tied a bit of rope around her neck and took her home, where he kept her in the garden and fed her goat's milk until she could live off of grass and oats. He might have hoped that she would grow up tame, but she didn't, and she would bite and show her heels whenever anyone came near. When she was a yearling she kicked down a length of the fence and escaped into the open countryside. Any other young horse in her situation would certainly have fallen quickly to the claws and teeth of predators, but she did not. On the third night a coyote came around to harass her and she chased it down and killed it. Soon she forced her way into a small band of mares, whose stallion had been killed, and made herself its leader.
She would have lived with them forever quite happily had not a group of bachelor stallions come upon them and broken them up forcefully. Natavi fought like the devil and nearly killed one of them, but they were too many for her and eventually she was driven off, limping and bleeding. She recovered quickly and now survives as a wanderer, bitter and resentful towards all stallion and quite ready to fight the lot should it come to that.
Name: Natavi
Age: Five Years
Gender: Mare
Breed: Spanish Barb with occasional strains of mustang or others thrown in
Height: 15.1 HH
Physical Description: Natavi is not an exceptionally pretty mare, with a short, squat body, heavy by nature. She is exceptionally big and hefty for a mare, with a brusqueness about her that suggests nothing approaching gentility. Bay sabino in color, she sports four white legs and a wide blaze between her alert, dark eyes. A rabicano-like marking surrounds her barrel, whiter and thicker at her waist. The dock of her tail is likewise frosted with white. She has a generally healthy, strong air that suggests that she knows well enough how to take care of herself. The angle of her neck, of her tail, is almost cocky, suggesting that she will submit to no one. Though she's not exactly the tallest, she has height due to a more recent strain of Thoroughbred and Quarter Horse released on the range to improve the wild stock. She somehow exudes power, and the look in her eyes convinces most that she is to be left well alone.
Personality: Natavi is certainly an exceptional mare. She knows how to take care of herself, and knows how to fight. More than once a stallion larger than her has come off the worst after paying a little too much attention to her. She is a strong-minded, obstinate sort of horse, with a good amount of range intelligence and no fear beyond the ordinary. Her fight instinct is a good deal stronger than that for fight, and she has been known to go for things as large as a coyote, even, once, having driven away a cougar. She has not yet met a wolf, although it certainly would be like her to go straight at it. She is not rash, rather she feels in her the indomitable spirit of the wild, and feels that horses ought to stand up to more of the predatory kind. She will not back down from anything, and once she has set her mind on something she is determined to carry that something out to its fullest extent.
She feels that the world belongs to stallions and is governed by their rules, and hates it, for she knows that she could be as good a leader, or even better, perhaps, then some of the fool-hardy branch. She is quite willing to fight them, and whenever they will take her on she will. In fighting she is vicious, a powerhouse, and has an exceptional amount of willpower. She will not give up. She's not submissive to any one, and for that reason has not been able to find herself a good herd. And the stupid laws of stallions dictate that she cannot start her own. She hates the laws of the land, is rebellious against them, and has determined to sink her teeth in and never let go. Perhaps she is a bit rash, a little devoid of the motherly instincts of most mares, but this hardly bothers her. After all, she is tough, and she is hardy, and she has hooves and teeth as strong as theirs.
History: Natavi has had an exceptional life. Born in a year and a place where winter had encroached upon spring and the frost would not let up, it is something of a miracle that she survived at all. The small band of tough mountain horses that she was born into was hit hard by the cold, and a good deal of foals and ever grown horses fell victim to the frost or predators. The band had no choice but to migrate continually, with pregnant mares and small foals tacked on, and none of the other foals born that season survived. Yet, Natavi, with the sort of natural instinct that would follow her later, clung to life like a tick. Before she was weaned she could already eat some of the bark on the barren trees, and her hooves were as hard as iron. When at last the frost let up she thrived in the sunlight of the valleys and could climb the side of the mountain as well as any mountain goat.
The place in which they had now come, however, was plagued by men, breeders of high-quality Quarter Horses who thought Mustangs a scourge on the land. When the lead stallion - on one of those stupid ventures that stallions so often go on, mated with several of the Quarter Horse mares and got many of them pregnant, the men determined to round up and destroy the mustangs. Over the next few days they did just that, shooting those that got away and sending the rest off to be destroyed. Natavi and her mother broke from the group and began a desperate flight across the countryside, where they were attacked by wolves. They killed Natavi's mother, who was suffering from a shotgun wound to the haunch, and the little filly sat trembling in a bush while they tore her apart. The wolves, hunger appeased, went away without killing Natavi.
It was her luck that a man, a normal sort of fellow and a studier of plants, was coming up to see a bloom of cactus and came upon Natavi nuzzling her dead mother and giving pitiful little whinnies. He tied a bit of rope around her neck and took her home, where he kept her in the garden and fed her goat's milk until she could live off of grass and oats. He might have hoped that she would grow up tame, but she didn't, and she would bite and show her heels whenever anyone came near. When she was a yearling she kicked down a length of the fence and escaped into the open countryside. Any other young horse in her situation would certainly have fallen quickly to the claws and teeth of predators, but she did not. On the third night a coyote came around to harass her and she chased it down and killed it. Soon she forced her way into a small band of mares, whose stallion had been killed, and made herself its leader.
She would have lived with them forever quite happily had not a group of bachelor stallions come upon them and broken them up forcefully. Natavi fought like the devil and nearly killed one of them, but they were too many for her and eventually she was driven off, limping and bleeding. She recovered quickly and now survives as a wanderer, bitter and resentful towards all stallion and quite ready to fight the lot should it come to that.