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Subject: She whickers and if she could grin she would. She resumes the kicking of the door and finally it crashes open,the door slightly splintered and cracked,but no other harm done. Obviously the lock had been jiggled just enough by her furious kicking it unlocked. She steps into the courtyard. If she was molten silver,she wanted to get away from her mold and flow freely. She was obviously finely bred,a refined slight dip in her face could maybe call her Arabian,but that was not so. Author: Tillifien the Silver Shadow Walker [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] Date Posted: 12:32:44 03/08/01 Thu In reply to: Celtic Shadow 's message, "His ears prick at the mare's whuffle, and he returns her call with his own. Extending his head as far as he could, the ebon steed whickers, nibbling at the bolt on his door, eyes upturned to the silver beauty, still working on the stubborn lock..." on 19:20:54 03/07/01 Wed She is an unamed breed outside of the woody hills and mountain streams of Mondune, her birthplace. She steps lightly from her stall and trots gracefully,never tripping over the rough flagstones. She breaks into a canter and canters about and then suddenly stops at the open gate. She looks longingly out,but does not go through somthing willing her,telling her not to go. She turns and trots back over to the stallion and too fiddles with the lock... [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]