Innops

One look at the young mare, and anyone could see that she was a very sick girl. Her steps were sluggish and heavy, her ears and were drooping, and her eyes were bloodshot and lacking the life they were suppose to shine with. Against her ebony coat, her ribs were starting to show. "Zaquaim? Glaze?" Her breath was labored and wheezing, and she stopped frequently to either rest, or to cough. Eventually, the tired young mare folded her legs and lay down at the bottom of a low knoll, not caring that the ground her limbs were pressing into was uncomfortably wet. She just didn't have the strength to keep moving.