<><><>*Harsh scream echos, ringing in the dead of the night.*<><><> -- The Watering Hole

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Subject: <><><>*Harsh scream echos, ringing in the dead of the night.*<><><>

Author:
Lady Hawk

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Date Posted: 23:08:47 04/13/01 Fri
Author Host/IP: NoHost/216.238.172.185

*Stunning bay femme appears upon hilly horizon, dark coat rippling, illuminated with the eerie glow of moonshine. Same freakish glare erases all traces of chocolate from fiery orbs, replaced with burning ivory glaze. She, in her madness stumbles on, sturdy iron hoof striking against soil, both dry and damp. Mud splatters upon shadowed forlegs, entire pelt darkened by thick coat of perspiration. Shrill scream is emited once more through parted lips as femme rears back, forelegs striking, steel-like horn striking furiously, insanely at nothing in particular, though femme seems to know exactly what the target is. Uknown steed approaches maddened female, causing her to wheel upon muscular hindquarts, ebon tail whiplashing about lithe body. Mandibles snaps ferociously at steed, striking upon muzzle full force. Bay moves back, iron scraping against earth, audidtives back, flat against cranium. Incisors bare, fiery orbs glare at intruder. Without warning, femme strikes, charging forward as she rams against stud, receiving powerful snap upon thin-skinned shoulder. Wounds nor crimson liquid from them stop the mare as she wheels once more, hind snapping up to kick against chest of opponent. Battle cry rages from lips, as both equines tear at one another in their battle, blow for blow, block for block. Miniscule war continues well into the hour, competitors illuminated by bright rays from moon above. Steed delivers powerful, final blow, as femme stumles backwards, barely avoiding tripping to hard earth, and he is gone as mysteriously as he came. Slowly, bay stumbles onwards, heavy burden of wounds finally coming to her as insanity leaves, the pain now quite visible within features. Travel carries her further, before life itself is unbearable and joints give way beneath femme. Soil ruches to meet lithe body, though impact makes no matter. Femme falls into restless slumber, and the dull ring of a bell echos from the land of humans and their silly lifestyle. OPnce, twich, on and on, two dozen chimes the bell tolls as the dreaded hour strikes upon the valley, washing over inhabitants with its darkness.*

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