A Breezy Gale

Flicka's ears twitched as she lifted her head from grazing. she could sense it. There was another horse around. Not in direct sight, but near. Feeling uneasy, she picked up a gentle trot, scanning the area carefully. After a few miutes, she realized she was on a small hill.

The silver grulla mare cast a glance down, into the open field.(Like the one in the movie Spirit!) Her gaze settled on the black stallion, and she narrowed them. She backed up, and picked up her canter as she went down the gently sloping hill. She stopped several feet away from him, her head raised in defiance. "Who are you?" She nickered, her voice steely.

The ma flicked her ear and swished her tail. "Flicka." She replied back. She wasn't sure how to act around another horse. She'd been on her own for so long, she forgot how nice it felt to have company.

"It's been good. Good grazing, no twolegs. Yeah, the herd's been gone for quiet a while." Flicka aid, answering all of his questions.

Bucky Vin-Grahl was his name. He was a big, black, country stallion. He was bad, oh yes. But not as in evil, bad. But as in, he was a bad hero, so to say. He was tough, let's put it that way. Many towlegs have tried and failed to saddle him up. He's a bucker, oh yes, a mighty fine one at that. No towleg has ever been able to tame this wild stallion. He was a legend. One that no one will ever know.

He came galloping forward at top speed, stretching his long powerful legs. He saw other horses. Yes, that's what it was. He needed someone to talk to. He snorted and galloped faster, heading towards the two.

Flicka nickered lightly in agreement with Gale. Her ears twitched as she heard the sound of beating hooves. Soon, she felt the grounf vibrating softly as the new-comer came barreling towards them. She pinned her ears back furiously, and reared up, pawing at the air with her front legs.

Bucky slowled to a trot and showed no sign of fear or aggression. He could have, but he didn't feel that way. He snorted a bit and trotted heavily over, standing at a safe distance away from the furious mare. The stallion raised up, standing taller than the she-horse. "Woah now, miss. I ain't come over yonder to do no harm.", he said. He had quite the southern accent. He was one of those horses you'd expect to see in the old west. He went back down onto his four legs and watched the mare.

Flicka dropped back onto all fours, but her ears stayed pinned back angrily. She felt threatened by the stallion, despite the fact he made no moves or showed any signs of aggression. "Well, I s'pose not," the grulla mare muttered, sweeping her skeptical gaze over the stallion. "Your not from 'round here, are you?" Her accent wasn't nearly as deep as his his, but you could hear it in her light voice.

Bucky snorted a bit of laughter. "Oh no, m'lady. I'm from far 'way from here. But I'm a bit of a trav'ler, so I get around.", he snickered. He stamped his hoof on the ground, testing it. He didn't know why, but he always did that when moving into a new area. It was just out of habit. "Grazin' fine 'round this place?", he asked, feeling a bit hungry from his long run here.

Flicka bobbed her head a couple times, nodding to his question. "Oh yes, the grazin' is wonderful." And it was. More so in the summer, but it was one of best places to graze during winter.

"That's nice.", he said. He kicked at the ground again. "Oh, pardon me, where are my manners?", he asked himself. "I'm sorry, I fergot to intoduce m'self. The name's Bucky Vin-Grahl, one of the wildest horses in the ol' west.", he said, using his 'full title'.

Flicka dipped her head to him. "I'm Flicka."

Bucky dipped his head. "Nice ta meetcha, Flicka.", he said kindly. He was anxious to get back running again, but he wanted to stay and chat. "So where're ya from, Flicka?", he asked curiously.

"A vew days travel from here. My daddy called it Georgia."

Bucky nodded. "What's it like there?", he asked.

Flicka paused. "Well... In the Summer, it so hot that you'd gladly want to live in this kind of weather all the time. But in the winter, it's bitter cold. But it almost never snows." Her eyes grew distant, and longing as she thought of her old home.

"You look a little homesick, Flicka.", he noted. Maybe he could take her back to this place called 'Georgia'.

OOC: I live in Georgia and it is sooo true! By the way: I've got a new 'Clan' that I've created called The Pride. It's pretty cool. Ive got plenty of high positions avalible, if you want to join. Let me know and I'll post the link to the sign-up thread.