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Date Posted: 15:53:26 04/25/04 Sun
Author: Insatiable
Subject: [ . Do you dare . ]

The absence of the patchwork jezebel had been unexpected and torturous, the events filling the endless months had traumatized the easy-going Gypsy and altered her in ways other than physical. Sturdy, feathered pistons propelled the contradictory vixen through the gates of the 'Greens, darkly shaded eyes never once glancing behind her. The crash of underbrush signalled her arrival, her readmittance into the world she had not voluntarily left. Her sleek pelt bore the visible scars of her adventures, the deep marks cutting across the pallid blotches, leaving her looking like a hastily sewn together doll. Her shaggy visage held the most obvious clues as to where she had spent the past months. Burn marks seared across her muzzle and cheeks in the distinctive pattern of a halter, a halter that had apparently been too tight and used much too roughly against the delicate skin. A prancing pony she had not been. For her earlier beauty, the two-legged beasts that had captured her had ended up with a wild banshee, a creature who had refused to be cowed by any of their brutish breaking techniques.

Beaten at their own game, the two-leggeds had turned to another humiliation... If they couldn't tame her, they could at least have her looks passed on to a bastard they could raise as they saw fit. So, after being poked and prodded, tied and held down, the brutes had subjected the Vanner mare to rape.

The product of that horrible time had absconded with it's reluctant dam, trailing along behind her as she made her way back to the mountains. Haven, the miniscule, unwanted daughter of Insatiable, with her gangly legs, skinny neck, and scrawny haunches. Haven, the unlucky reminder of Sati's imprisonment. Haven, the pitch-black filly with the stark white face and build of her unknown father. Poor dear, being unwanted by one's own mother was a terrible thing. Sati would care for the youth, but never bond to her, never be the mother the filly needed. Placing delicate onyx nails in the prints her dam had left, Haven tried valiantly to keep up, always following the scent of Sati. Where were they now? Fear filled the tiny dove, but who could she turn to if not her mother?

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