The grasses waved in the breeze, making a crinkling noise. These blades of grass were tall, yellow, and dead. It was lifeless and hiding places for the many small things. A sun mingled over head with its bright rays making the white cirrus clouds seem fluffy and happy. These clouds were not happy because they held no rain, they brought upon the land a drought.

Trees scattered around the dusty brown ground that was cracked and dead as the ground. Their thin, spindly trunks twisted and turned as they held aloft branches that bore no leaves not even a single bird. In fact, you wouldn't even hear a single bird or even see one for another twenty miles unless it was a buzzard. Though, it was a place was home to snakes, mice, lizards, and other ground dwelling creatures. For the sun above was too scorching hot for anyone else except maybe for the buzzard; they were unlikely too for there was never any carcasses, only bones.

If this seemed to be a good enough description for you, then you are a very unsatisfied person. A longing for being satisfied was what this equine was all about. The hooves were of a midnight color and contrasted to the tan color of the desert floor. The long tresses that hung down to her hocks were as tangled as a thorn bush. Even her mane was tangled and unkempt, pieces of dirt shying from it. If you thought any horse was beautiful in the wild with a silky coat, you were very imaginative.

Her coat that was a silky smooth ebony when she was first born now was rough and scarred. An exceptionally large gash across her chest gleamed as it was still healing. Her knees were rough from tripping and her side was battered from kicks. Her left shoulder was bitten immensely and her once glittery blue eyes now seemed dull and lifeless. Triangular shaped ears were up and switched back and forth. Each sound in this place was heard by her.

The long slender legs upon her body rippled with built up muscle. The star upon her forehead was covered in a thin layer of dust. Each cheek seemed to be crusted with old blood. Each and every muscle moved back and forth, bending and stretching. Nothing would be different for this beast of a horse. She was a morgan, bay and full blooded. No one wanted to mess with her, but she wanted to mess with them.

Teeth yellowed and sharp showed from curled lips, chapped as the sun. A distaste in this land made her lips curl; though she’d settle with her decision eventually. A very faint scent wafted into her now widened nostrils as she let her body stagger to a stop. She wasn’t the most beautiful mare in all of the lands, but at least she could stand a fight and hold her ground. This description was as much as herself could give you.

Lets see in her perspective:

My body moved from side to side as I glanced around. The ears atop my head tensely folded back as every muscle clenched together. I have a bad feeling in my stomach, clawing at my insides. Though I had never been to any of the lands in Forever Free, I had still been here. It made me feel so horrible to leave and then suddenly reappear years later. Yes, I was older now and didn’t exactly deserve to return. But every demonic mistress has a second chance and I was earning it now. I wanted to die happily in a pool of blood at my side. I wanted to die a victor.

And before I had left, I had met a stallion and a couple others. Remembering one stallion that I hadn’t talked too, I remember his name. At this moment, I can’t recall, but I know he was here. I could faintly oh so faintly remember his dominant scent and knew that I’d gradually be welcomed here. Who wouldn’t want a two-sided personality mare capable of massacring others? Wasn’t that what any male horse wanted as their mate? A lethal mare such as me? I mean, even I wanted myself and wasn’t willing to exactly “share” with others.

So as I stood there looking like my grungy self, I let my head raise up. My curled lips opened up to release a hellish sound. It was a shattering neigh that sounded rusty. Curling my head back down, I had a look of disgust in my eyes. I hadn’t talked much or even came within contact of any one within a few years. I had been isolated with myself and no other in the dark corners of the earth. Finally I had come out of my isolation insanity and decided to come back.

For every flower alive, there’s a tint a of indigo.