Rigganmore

Prologue

(UNFINISHED)

     Silver winds blew down the plains and across the grand steppes of the native lands. Fall was in full swing and the harvest was done with winter close at hand. Short golden stalks gathered and bundled within the fields drying and waiting for the field hands to come and retrieve them tomorrow to store for the long cold days ahead. The estate of Baron Tirfal R'tchlan was well prepared for this season. Many hands to care for and many acres have been harvested so far and more to come in. Night slowly enshrouded the two story stone manor. White stone reflecting the dim light of the plain looking sunset and no clouds meant it would be a very cold night tonight but the stars would be a sight to behold.

      The humble equine watched the hands come in from the fields in the distance laughing and talking among them selves. Smiling softly, he turned to look to his animal stable, making sure things where locked tight for the night. With recent odd raids on the outlying farms along the boarder, he wanted to make sure his investment in prized beasts where well taken care of. The slight itching feeling between his shoulder blades would not cease though. Unknown feelings crept into his gut, long forgotten from his days as a soldier under the service of his grandfather. Shrugging off the feeling he headed into the house to see what awaited him from his family, and to sit before a warm fire and finish off his favorite book. Hopefully tonight there would be no midnight visits from the farmers down the road again.

      Eyes looked out of the upper window down upon the estate of her father.Chill in the evening air made the workers in the courtyards breath visible in the darkening light. Children still out at play rampaged around playing their games with glee and abandon, their voices of gay laughter making her smile softly. Reaching up with her hand, she brushes the long strands of her mane out of her long face. Long lines of evolution had given her the fine figure of that of the Rigganmorean race. Descended from a wild form of plains animal that closely resembled a beast of burden, she contemplated the fact of how it was possible. Why did they have intelligence, speech and a complex society?

      Her long fine equines face mixed with the elegant curves of a now extinct humanistic form lent for a good and fine figure. Turning with a swish of her soft cotton skirts she preferred over the more extravagant silks and satins that her suitors have given her this year, she headed to the section for old wood bound books. She tipped her head to the side slightly to get a better view of the titles along the dark wood wall. She reached up to carefully take down the book that theorized her pattern of thoughts and carried it to the corner seat by the large fireplace. Settling herself down by its warmth, the young lady browsed the book again, as she had since she was old enough to reach it. She remembered her father telling her she couldn't read it until she was old enough to touch it, and by that time she should be old enough to understand it. A soft smile came again to her elegantly crafted muzzle.

      No one really knew how they had come to be. The holy men had said long ago they where divine creations, one of a kind and unique to the world, each one in their own way. She wasn't so sure. Pictures in the beginning of the pages showed the hearty beast that closely resembled most of the population of their now humanoid design.