Welcome to Gaia! ::

I love day-dreaming of being a wild horse, it would be great, i think. I would have all the time in the world, i think. I would be so free, i think. so why not? you be the horse. just dream up a charachter for you to be, find a picture you like or desribe yourself, hell, you could even be a unicorn if you wanted!

fill this out

map of island:this island will never be discovered because it is located in the bremuda triangle, it is populated by a number of animals but a human has never set foot upon it's beaches.

area 2 had been Freebird's home, it was a large territory and she guarded it as if she were a dog. It was one of the most perfect and convient peices of land on the entire island, it had plenty of water, forest, a good food source and even some beautiful mountains to finish it off. The places around the mountains resebmled a desert, exept much friendlier and though she enjoyed her privacy she grew lonely. Some of the creatures in the forest kept her company, mainly an old wild dog and the birds who didn't mind her much. She found herself grazing by nearly noon that day. She had, a month ago, realised she had grown pregnant from another stallion she had left behind, in area 5.

(*pokes Fizzeh* Pssstt... there's no such thing as 17.9 hands... a hand is four inches, therefore it goes 17.0, 17.1, 17.2, 17.3, 18.0, 18.1, etc. the decimals don't indicate a fraction of four inches -- they just represent the next inch)

(Mariah - going to assume shes in the forest? wink )

Faolan exhales a brief, loud huff as he lowers his head and stretches backward, shaking his mane with a satisfied grunt. He then resumes his aimless wandering, lifting one durable hoof after the other and letting them fall softly to the loamy soil. His eyes are serene; their deep brown shows no sense of concern. Rash, perhaps, but his ears swivel constantly, listening for anything vaguely different. Each and every muscle is subconsciously poised to spring into action.

And then he halts; gently, without a sound, all four hooves squarely on the ground. He lifts his chiseled head, a certain light darting into his eyes. An absence of fear still exists; his listlessness has now, however, been replaced by an alertness - an interest, if you will. His ears turn in indecision for a moment before flicking forward. The stallion stares ahead of himself. He'd heard something, he's sure of it; he can sense the faint vibration beneath his hooves. The source is amorphous as of yet, but its form is bound to take shape if he can get close enough. He has an innate knowledge that the creature he has found is not a threat, but another of his kind. His his nostrils flare, their delicate pink lining visible as he strains his senses. Mare, he decides, pondering whether or not he should audibly greet this new equine he has found in the section 2 forest.

Nero darted in and out of the surf playfully, stopping every so often to strike at the darting schools of fish that mocked him mere inches below the surface.The colt put his head down and snorted at the darting silver forms. What are you doing under there? he seemed to inquire, head tilted to one side ears cocked forward questioningly.

With a shrill squeal, he reared up, then crashed down, scattering the fish in all directions, before galloping up the beach with reckless abandon. His wet silver coat gleamed in the sunlight, and his long black tail streamed behind him, held high like a banner. He gave a mighty buck for the sheer thrill of it, and slowed into an easy canter, nostrils flaring as he breathed.

Suddenly, his black tipped ears swiveled forward. He could have sworn he heard something. Other horses? It could be, but it was mostly likely some sort of lion. AH! He leaped into the air, as a twig snapped, without even realizing that it was his own hoof that snapped the twig, and broke into a headlong dash for the forested areas, letting out a shrill and prolonged whinny as he galloped.

Only 15 hands razz
there's a yearling at our barn right now whose like, 16.2
It's nuts