Anarchy

Her movements were swift, her hooves pounding into the earth as she propelled herself on and on and on through the territory. She moved so fast past the other horses, the little yearling filly did, and she paid them no heed. As she reached the terrains edge she whirled, her black mane and tail flashing out behind her as the fawn colored filly turned and raced on. She loved to run, oh how she did. Anarchy moved with such grace and agility, her banner waving behind her and her muscles bunched beneath her with every little movement. She was bulky, much like her father whom she did not know. She was also rather tall, much like he, and if she had been back in the days of knights and maidens, she would have made any knight proud for her size and stamina alone was something to be in awe over. Anarchy leapt over a fallen log, landing smoothly and with a loud crash. she came to a halt in one of the clearings, the breath coming in and out of her quickly but she was not tired. There she stood, listening... Waiting.

.Perfect Image.

Perfect Image, no older then a yearling, marched down a snowy ridge, skidding to an abrupt halt, ears pricked. The daughter of the two elites, Stryker and Jasmine, she was a proud fellow. Image watched Anarchy, perplexed and amazed at the same time. She was the daughter of the new leader, Nightlinger. Well, not leader, but the current commander. Image trotted, high-kneed, her little head thrust high with a high ego. Image came up behind Anarchy, nipping at the filly's flanks mockingly, shaking her mane. "What are you waiting for?" Image questioned, though she did not try to emphasize in a curt way. Image was audacious, and loved to speak loud. A big ego, and a small brain, but her stupidity was made up with her antics and bravery.

anarchy

Her eyes narrowed at the nip, and she pinned her ears back warningly. Listening. She growled under her beath. Although she was high spirited and loved to run, she loved the sound of nature, to listen to the birds singing.... But now the birds were silent and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Anarchy was not stupid, and she knew that this one was to be watched out for. Power goes to the head, as Anarchy knew well. Do you like to run, mon petite? She asked softly. A duel then. Yes, a duel would be nice. Steam was rising off the fawn colored filly, from the slight sweat she had gained from her previous run. She pawed the ground, the feathers on her large hooves attracting attention. her father a mystery, her mother a leader... What next? What road would she carve out for herself?

.Perfect Image.

Image pondered Anarchy's question, flicking her tail cautiously with a grin. "Only if I have competition," Image arrogantly replied, pawing the snow with a hoof. Image loved to see someone fall to her power, but perhaps Image was getting too over her head at this. She'd barely beaten her siblings and cousins a few times, half the time she gave up or gotten distracted. Image smiled, flicking her ears. "Why, madam, you wish to race the almighty Image?" Image laughed, knowing she was full of shit.

Anarchy

Anarchy wanted to laugh at Image. She was like Paris Hilton in horse form. Who knew? Alright then, mighty Miss Image. How about a race then. When that piece of snow up on that tree falls, we go. Race to the end off the terrain. No giving up now, pretty little Image. I wouldn't want to say to my friends that you were a weakling.... That was a lie. Anarchy had no friends. It was by choice, but sometimes the fawn colored filly got lonely. Her eyes raised up to the snow on the branch, oh so close to falling. She settled far back on her haunches, a classic move for racing thoroughbreds. It was meant to propel herself forward at a greater speed then if she stood normally. 3, 2, 1... The snow fell. Before it even hit the ground, Anarchy was off and running. It didn't take long for her to reach a gallop, making sure not to go her highest speed and save some energy for the end. She snow was knee deep, but her friesian mixed with the Kiger mustangs made her fly through it as if it were nothing. She was unstoppable.

Perfect Image

Image squealled with rage, charging after Anarchy, trying to keep her speed. The Arabian filly had her speed, but only for short sprints. Although Image was far from allowing Anarchy to win, it was more than evident that the other filly would win. But Image wasn't going to stop, for her breed, too, could be racehorses. Although lesser known for their speed, Arabians could spring distances like banshees. Image pounded after Anarchy, snow thrust into the air as her hooves raked against the icy ground. "Run, filly, run!" Image screamed in a torrent, a weak attempt to take Anarchy off her focus. Image was about ten feet away from Anarchy, breathing heavily and burning energy like a machine to keep up with the daughter of Hidden Shadows and Nightlinger.

Anarchy

An ear flicked back towards Image, but it wouldn't throw the big filly. She kept plowing her way through the snow, her ears pinned backwards. Come come, pretty Image. She called back. Her fawn colored coat was dark with sweat, but she didn't mind. She leapt over a fallen log, taking it in stride and with ease. She lived for times like these, where she could run and be free. That's when she picked up the speed. She dug deep into the soft snow, pushing herself and pushing herself. She would NEVER give in. Stubburn much? Oh yes. Very much. Her energy was not sapping away, for she did this quite often and had grown quite use to the stress on her muscles. She knew when to back off the pace, she kenw when to pick it up. She was so precise in her timing. She slammed to a halt at the end of the territory and turned, looking for Image. the breath was coming in short little gasps, but she was laughing so hard and her eyes were bright and full of love for the run.

Image

Image flattened her ears against her skull, taking the log in a giant stride. She pressed hard after Anarchy, but had no avail. Image panted heavily as she slowed to a lope for a short while, throwing in the towel. When Anarchy stopped, Image picked up the pace and slid purposely at the filly, hoping to spray up some snow for sheer joy, or to, perhaps, intentionally piss Anarchy off. Image didn't care anymore, she had had fun. That's what really mattered, right? "Oh, fine, oh, fine. You can run decent," Image half-teased, half-sneered. She was too weak to be curt, though. "Must be your Thoroughbred blood..."

Anarchy

As snow was sprayed up at her she laughed. She shook out her fawn colored body, then looked to Image. Even though theres very little of it. She said with a soft smile. She knew she was only a quarter of a thoroughbred, and her mothers kiger. And her father? She figured him to be a draft of some sort. Mother never spoke of him. What do you like to do for fun, Image? She asked softly. She was in no mood to fight, and her body was warning her not to push herself anymore. She was tired, but not terribly so.

Image

Image shook her head, ears flopping. "It's getting colder. My mother says it'll get worse," Image commented with a returning smile. The nag of loosing seemed to be tugged off, but it left some pain within her still. Image looked up at Anarchy, pricking her ears with interest. "Ya know...run, jump, try to get stronger. I want to be a fighter like my father," Image replied wistfully.

Anarchy

Anarchy looked to the sky. It probably will... I love the cold. It helps me out with my black coat. Her eyes followed Image, and she said softly I can help you, Image. She figured she may as well become friends with Image, since she had never before talked to anyone besides her mother. Why not make a friend?

Image

Image chuckled, looking at Anarchy. "Et Tu, Anarchy," Image replied, knowing that Anarchy must wish to place high amongst the South of Heaven ranks. Image shook some snow from her poll, yawning slightly. "I'm tired. You gave me a run."