Arathi

[Martyr]

Three set of daggers danced across the lithosphere. They clung to the turf propelling the bulks of stallions across the earth. Their sizes and pelts clashes with each other, making them stand out. Three best friend had just escaped from their prisoned homes. Martyr was in the lead. A pure gypsy vanner stallion he was true to his breed. Martyr had muscles protruding from every possible spot on his craft. Though his pelt was mostly white with black blotches here and there. Right behind him to his left was the stallion Chartyr. Shorter than Martyr, Chartyr fought to keep up beside his friend. The pelt of dark crimson was like fire in the blaring sunlight. On his dial a large blaze stretched from the very top of his facade to between his nares. He was short and stocky, like his quarter horse ancestors. Then there was Zephyr. Neither the tallest nor the shortest, he raced against the wind. His pelt was tinted with the golden kisses from the sun. Like a fallen star he seemed to move with grace and ease. He was not muscular and definitely not stocky. He had the build of a racehorse and Zephyr ran like a racehorse. Their journey had began way before their adulthood. In fact, as youths their parents had told them stories of this magical place for free equines. Arathi it was called, had a secret entrance through and arch of trees. Only the wildest hearted equines were allowed to enter. Some how it kept humans away. Their parents had told them that Arathi was in their reach. They only had to make that journey and prove their worth. So here the equnies where chasing their wildest dreams and the wind for the chance to enter Arathi. The scent of lush green tendrils and limpid waters were carried to their nares by a friendly breeze. The pain and hunger in their bowels gripped them trying to veer them from their path. Chartyr was slowing down from his weakness. He felt as if he could not carry on.They all pushed themselves to their limits. When it seemed like all hope was lost the arches appeared before them. Racked with excitement the stallions raced through to the otherside. Coming out on a mountain they gazed at the land.

Arathi
Now the stallions where filled with excitement. They had found the land that was promised to them. They raced down the mountains side throwing their bodies over rocks or fallen trees. As they reached the flater lands they ate and drank plenty. Replenished Zephyr ran up to Chartyr and nipped him on his archer. Chartyr bucked and sprinted off. Zephyr in hot puruit raced after him. Martyr was left to watch the two act like colts again in the hot summer sun. A rumbling of in the distance tickled Martyr's audits. He turned his dial to the horizon and there was a herd. The mass was composed of multiple equines and multiple colors. To him it looked like a painting. In the front was the largest horse to cross his orbs. Pelt like the cold night and the shadows that follow, musles bunched underneath the ebony, and his orbs. Looking into those orbs chilled Martyr to the bone. To him his blood was frozen in place. The earth shook as mighty daggers raced towards the stunned stallion. The build of the horse that was charging was that of an Irish Cob. The beast paused before Martyr and parted his deadly kissers. Pearly whites flashed in the morning light as a mighty bellow was spewed forth from the beast's bowels. The herd behind him froze in place. None stirred except for the copper glimmer that raced to his side. Her banners streamed out behind her. Now she was a arabian fae. With four socks and a star in the center of har facade she pranced to her master's side. The black stallion looked down at his trophey and then at Martyr. How dare you tresspass on my land! I should kill you for this treachery, you filthy vagabond! His rant echoed up in the mountains and caught in the audits of Chartyr and Zephyr. They raced to Martyr's defense. Chartyr leapt for the throat of the unruly beast, but he was knocked down by the creature. Rearing up, he bore down upon the crimson stud. Without mercy he fell, with all his wieght in the daggers. A crunch rang in Martyr and Zephyr audits. Both stared amazed at their fallen comrade. Crimson rivers streamed into the dirt and pooled beside the listless body. Now state your business! The brute bellowed. Martyr stole a glance at the icy portals. He saw nothing and he felt nothing. We where just looking for a home. We had been told of a land through the arches, where only wild horses lived. And we traveled here. He whispered in a dead tone. Chartyr was dead. The poor little stud thought that he could defeat the monster before them. The beast seemed to have softened up a little. Well then. Take have of my herd to split between you two. You painted one can have from the mountains to the cove. You golden one take whats left. I will take the hidden part. Know me as Leviathon. Fear my name. His voice echoed. From that day one Martyr and Zephry watched the herds they earned. The time came when they would die and in the end Leviathon did to. The land is barren and empty of equines. Its time to change. Stories are passed down from father to son and from mother to daughter. Its time to make that journey and follow your dreams through the arches. We just want to be free

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