None of us remember how good a family is until they are gone. I had to figure this out for myself when my herd was attacked. Nothing was left but a tiny filly with a butterscotch colored coat. I saw it all even though my mother had just given birth to me. Large wolves attacked everyone without warning and I couldn't do anything but lay still. Seventeen years I grew up with no one to care for me so I learned to care for myself. No one knew I survived and I kept it that way. Even if I was to be broken, I never let that happen. ∆∆∆∆∆ #461 in Werewolf category

Some call me hope. Some say I bring luck. But to me, I'm just looking for the one I'll spend the rest of my life with. Abandoned as a foal, I was taught by myself, my instincts. I saw many tamed horses with great companions, who they dearly loved. I've seen many go wrong though. So I'm searching. For the right one. Alone in the wilderness, the traveling paint filly, looking for her saviour. In the years of many Wars, horses are much wanted. To tame, to ride, to die in battle. She must find the right person, or face a horrible fate on the battlefield...

Have you ever experienced the wind flapping through your mane and forelock as you gallop through vast plains and over rocky slopes? Have you ever known what freedom feels like, knowing that it isn't free? Of course you haven't. You aren't a horse-shifter like me. Well that so called freedom can be taken away any second of any day. In the blink of an eye, and you probably won't even know it. But I do. It happened to me. Like yesterday, when I was caught by the people that run the Wild Mustang Round Up. It isn't a beautiful sight. But I am. My coat, black as night, red as fire in sunlight. My mane, dark as coal, wild as the wind. My tail, as dark as ebony, that can't be tamed. My spirit? Ha, it is as wild as wild can be. I. Can. Not. Be. Tamed.