A little beginning - Page 3

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A little beginning

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        01-07-2010, 04:28 PM
    Also if the foal is large the birthing moments could be too strenuous on the mare and she could die from too much or the foal could've ripped something inside her as it was struggling to get out. Complications coming right after birthing can be brought up. Colic kicks in sometimes and they die soon after. Research helps!
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        01-07-2010, 09:25 PM
    Hope you enjoy. I'm accepting critique at any time. :)

    A small, gangly foal lay in the straw, looking bedraggled and miserable. It has brown, darker than the mare who gave him birth, but still a bay. Bright white spilled down the front of it’s face, shortening to a trickle and then tapering off alltogether. It’s copper muzzle proved it was a bay, and then on it back leg, one tiny white sock.
    It was also a little colt. A little colt, whose life would be tumbled and confused, and would not rest for a moment. He would need bravery and courage, as well as a steady temperment.
    As soon as possibly, the copper mare was moved. She would never again see her stall, the foal she had fostered, or the world again. The people were deeply saddened by the loss, but these things happened. And they were prepared.
    The gray was led in immediantly, and she seemed to know what she needed to do. A long pink tongue stretched out to rasp at the colt’s fur, and she attempted to warm him up. He weakly raised his head, and stared at the gray horse standing above him. His stomach growled, and he decided it was time to get up.
    But how to work these long, giraffe-like legs? One after another, he hoisted himself to a standing position, looking like a puppet with it’s strings cut. He couldn’t smell what instinct told him to smell out- milk.
    The people came inside, calling words he couldn’t understand. He lifted up one leg, and promptly fell over. The people gently lifted him up, and guided him to a strange object that smelled faintly of milk.
    Next, they tried to place the object in his mouth. He started to back up, and fell over again. This time, the people let him get up on his own, and this time he allowed the strange object to be inserted into his mouth. His instinct allowed him to suckle at it, and his hunger vanished.
    The people quickly realized how fast of a learner he was, and how calm and confident he appeared to be. He allowed the strange, rubbing material to be placed over his face, and he learned how to walk easily, to back up, to stand still when a kind lady came to visit, and to not get in the gray mare’s way.
        01-07-2010, 11:18 PM
    Awww, they took away the fake mommy. :( so sad. Good tho!!
        01-08-2010, 11:12 AM

    The grey mare was wise, and knew to teach the colt all she could. How to look for understanding in the scariest of situations, and how to trust that the people wanted the best for him.
    When he was a yearling, they began to teach more complex ideas to him, and the gray mare always reminded him to be calm and accept the strange and unusual.
    A cold, harsh tasting piece put into his mouth, and then he was given a handful of grain. Everyday, he had to keep the piece in his mouth for longer and longer, and less grain was given to him until he would stand, complacent, with the bit in his mouth.
    Next, they put a saddle on him. This was most confusing of all- what was he to do now that such a heavy item was on his back? But, to his great surprise, he could easily walk around with it strapped down to him.
    Finally, a person was placed on top of the saddle. The weight was not too great, nor did it stop him from moving, but it was frightening to be directed around by someone he could not see. The person soothed him though, babbling to him in the strange language that he, for the most part, did not understand. Certain words he had learned, others the gray mare had taught to him- the cold piece between his teeth was a ‘bit’, the strange object on his back a ‘saddle’, the shelter he went to every night a ‘stall’, food was ‘grain’ and ‘hay’, drink was ‘water’ and material that was buckled around his head while in the pasture was the other young ones was a ‘halter’.
    But most other words were just noise, endless but soothing when spoken in a low, kind tone. The man who ‘rode’ him the most was always calm and kind, and the colt enjoyed their runs together.
    The people, however, did not seem to approve. They always shouted when they watched him run, and screamed at the man when they were through.
    “Faster! Push him!” they’d call, and the man seemed to ignore him. He knew that the colt could go no faster without causing harm to himself or the man. And if he pushed him any more, the colt would break. And the man would be to blame, even if he was following the orders of the people.
        01-08-2010, 11:03 PM
        01-09-2010, 02:17 PM
    Wow, this story is so good, keep going By the way, what happened to his surrogate mummy? Will she be brought back into the plot?
        01-09-2010, 07:37 PM
    First off, thank you everyone who has commented- you guys keep me writing. Secondly, I thought I should explain- the surrogate mother died during the colt's birth. :( Sad, but it was necessary. :( Third (ly?) I will try to get some more up tonight.
        01-09-2010, 07:45 PM
    The colt enjoyed the running so very much. To stretch his long legs, to thrill in the victory of winning against his own shadow, to finally have fun. Though his bloodlines were great, and his colthood wonderful and kind, he was not fast enough to win. But the people tried. Powders in his grain, special types of oats and hay, great blocks of strange taste, and even visits from the kind lady, who poked him with odd objects that smelled of places far away.
    Although she was not his mother, the gray mare cared for the colt so much. She wanted him to know this, and for him to know that he had a place in the world, even if he couldn’t race.
    Little did the horses know that very soon, the colt would discover this for himself.
    The morning of his first race, he was dozing in his stall, waiting for hay and grain to be brought in. Instead, the man who rode him and trained him led him out of his stall, and into what the gray mare called a ‘trailer’.
    Am I, he wondered, going to race?
    Indeed, he was.
        01-09-2010, 07:50 PM
    Heheh you used indeed! :) This story is awesome!!
        01-09-2010, 08:50 PM
    Hmm...i wonder what'll happen next...??

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