A bright bay mare stands on the edge of the Watering hole, ears slightly drooping. She flicks her tail, sun shimmering off the ebony tendrils. She paws the ground lightly then drops gracelessly to the ground. A dust cloud puffs up, settling around her. She snorts and settles her head on her forelegs. Her dark mahogany orbs follow the movenments of a butterfly nearby. -- The Watering Hole

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