Karina

[indi]

-Karina-

-What You Want to Know-

Gender: Mare
Alliance: Light
Age: 27
Breed: Mustang

-What You Can See-

Height: 14.3hh
Coat Color: Chestnut
Mane and Tail Color: Chestnut
Eye Color: Brown
Hoof Color: Tan
Markings: Blaze

-What You Can’t See-

Personality: Gentle and quiet in nature. My past has forced me to treasure the moments I have left, and make friends rather then enemies. However that is often difficult, for I am not revered for my beauty. My body is thinner then it should be, and my large bones are obvious beneath my faded sorrel pelt. My skin is no longer soft, but roughened by the dirt and wind, where small patches of my fur have been rubbed off by who knows what. Rather displeasing scars criss-cross certain parts of my body, telling the tales of my glory days when I was a reckless and free spirit. And though I have quieted a great deal from that point in my life, I still have enough energy to go for a good romp every once in a while. My back is swayed from the birth of half a dozen foals or more. Though what drives most other equine away, is the gruesome angle in which the bottom half of my left hind leg hangs from my hip, as it is indeed snapped in two. But I will admit I am a tough one, I seem to have found a way to survive in meager conditions, and extend my length of life to the fullest. And with the little time I undoubtedly have left, I plan to still have a bit of fun in my old age, while finding a protective herd to settle in and enjoy myself those last few moments. I keep any rude thoughts to myself, and simply stand up to the critcism I often recieve. Many believe it is my time to go, I've been around long enough. Let the youngsters come in and shine. Certainly I have lived long enough, but I will live while I'm alive. And actually, if you seek out my history, you may find that I'm a living legend of how things used to be.

History: I've lived far to long to bother you with a re-telling of the entire venture. But I will point out most of the major aspects. A rarity nowadays, I was actually born among a feral herd. Those still partially controlled by people. At this time, most horses had been released, but our lot were instead kept around for some breeding stock. Born to a quarter horse cross and a grade mare of some sort, my lineage is thoroughly mixed. By my second year I was growing up like any filly, frisky, playful, independent. I bore two foals in that feral stable, each of which were sold soon as they could be weaned. But I loved them so. Little, innocent things fascinated me. But I was untouched by the hands of the wild at that point. But then the time came; reduction. Nearly every mare and stallion were being sold to anyone, for anything, because our people didn't want to care for us anymore. And it was off to the auctions, where we were basically given away to the slaughter houses. And I was among them. Yes, I endured a terrifying drive to the awful smelling businesses in which I had no idea what happened. Luckily I never found out for myself, for the killbuyers noticed that I was among the few that were not lame or completely crazy. I was docile, they could handle me, and I could run. That immediately gave them the idea to rent out just a handful of us to a Mexican festival organization. I had no idea the torture that awaited me there. Those bloody humans found it entertaining to put us in arenas, with everyone watching us, and come galloping out on there own horses and chase us madly around the ring. And while this was frightening enough with all the flashing lights, bright colors and hollering people, they decided it wasn't enough. And so one of the riders cast a rope through the air, and the idea was to catch a horse around the ankle and purposely fell them. I later learned this event was called 'horse tripping' and was popular with everyone else...but the horses. [This is a real sport by the way] I was one of the lucky ones. There were many a terrified equine that I saw go crashing down face-first, or somersault over their own heads. The large majority were then shipped back to the slaughterhouses and killed, because they had broken necks, broken backs, broken legs. However it seems that I was spared. I was used only twice, because my first time around I went down on my side, a simple fall. But the people wanted more, they wanted to see some REAL action. Therefore I was taken back out, and by that time, the cowboys were just as frenzied as the crowd. Chasing me around in confusing circles, I was becoming horribly frightened and desperate to escape whatever fate they had in store this time. You have no idea the terror of being suddenly swept from your feet, and not being able to run anymore. I heard the whistle of a rope, and bucked. The lasso hit my rump and slid back down, but I was going crazy. I wanted out...right then! I'd heard of other horses attempting to leap from the arena but it looked nearly impossible. Deciding it was worth a shot (you must remember I was still young then) I found a point in the fence, and launched myself into the air just as one of the cowboys flicked his rope. Perhaps I would have made it, my forelegs had just cleared the very tip top when a rope coiled itself about my left hind and I found myself plummeting vertically to the ground. An unbearable pain seizing my leg so that even once I had fallen awkwardly over the fence, I was unable to get back up. By the time I could stand, it was obvious the rope had snapped my leg clean in half. It wasn't long before I was taken back to the slaughterhouses and, to my amazement, some fool who worked there let out an entire corral-full of horses; I among them. It took a long time, but my leg healed itself, however it healed crooked with no medical care, and is now the reason it hangs at such an odd angle I cannot properly walk on it without great pain. So from that day forward, I vowed to remain wild, for no human could ever be trusted ever again. Since then I have roamed freely. Back then I was careless, running wherever I wanted to go, doing whatever I felt like. I got many scars from little fights I now realize are silly. Falling in and out of love, roaming from one herd to another. And while most other mares take their hurt along with them, I left it behind. Growing up and getting wiser. Many different horses taught me many different things to make me who I am today. And while my number of friends is far out-weighed by those that had criticized me for my ugly appearance and age, I haven't given up. Though I'm not as young and talented as I once was and grey hairs are beginning to overtake the chestnut ones, I haven't quit living. I still walk happily, with my chin up, looking to enjoy the world until my time is up. In fact, I'm still quite busy with all that is going on in my life. Having met a stallion only a few years younger than myself, who had never before had children, I soon found myself expecting a foal -- which turned out to be two -- with him. Also, Eveny was stolen, making things quite stressful.

The twins were born without any undue problems for either them or me -- despite my age -- a blessing I have been grateful for. Unfortunately, not long thereafter, Mudd and Benjamin both died of a disease that somehow Kalea and I did not catch. Our home has been taken over by a stallion who looks like he could do with some friends. I hope that between us, Kalea and I will be able to help him.

-Some Fickle Details-

Herd and Home: The Haunted Battlefield
Rank: Herd mare
Loyal to: The Bloodstained Soldier of Elegance and Decay
Mate: None
Foals:
Man O'War {forgotten}
half a dozen others {forgotten}
Kalea {w/Mudd}
Benjamin {w/Mudd}
Grand-Foals: Many
Sire: Forgotten
Dam: Forgotten
Siblings: None
Friends: Eveny, Wind Reader, Decay
Friends who have passed on: Fantasia, Bree, Mudd
Enemies: -


This Code was modified for indi of Wild Equines 2 and is copyrighted (©) to treetracer of Wild Equines 2. Use without permission will result in unpleasant consequences.