::Back to the Basics::
Name:
Teketa
Gender:
Mare
Species:
American Paint Horse
Age:
16 years
Group:
Ranch with genders separated by pasture. Geldings and mares share a large pasture, while stallions have their own.
Appearance:
Teketa is a bay tobiano American Paint with black points, where the paint markings exist around her shoulders and butt. The black on her legs fades around the top of the leg, and she has a matching black mane and tail. Her eyes are a murky brownish black. Around her barrel and neck, there are lighter brown dapples in her coat.
::Let's Take a Look Inside::
Personality:
Teketa is one of those
"been there, done that" kind of mares. She isn't afraid to boss around
the geldings or shoo away them from a patch of clover. Though at heart,
she is a kind old mare that will offer wise advice and will be patient
no matter what. She will stand up for the others around her, and is
considered very motherly, especially when it comes to her son, Chief.
Sometimes, her young heart will shine through, and she will always go
for a long gallop though the paddocks.
::We Are Family::
Mother:
Unknown
Father:
Unknown
Siblings:
Unknown
Mate:
None
Offspring:
Chief, male
Friends:
Most other mares
::Storybook::
"Easy girl," my rider
spoke, his heels digging into my sides. I slowed abruptly from a gallop
as the ranch appeared over the horizon. Suddenly, a bath sounded like a
good idea. I could feel the sweat from under the saddle blanket seep
into my coat and around my tousled mane. I didn't resist the urge to
lope back to the barn. "Teketa, hey! Whoa girl!" My supposedly
arthritic legs felt free as they flew with the wind downhill, my mane dancing in the wind and tangling further. Finally, I
slowed to a halt, my badly kept, split hooves sliding into the dust. When will it ever rain?
I thought to myself. My rider dismounted and started to lead me to the hitching post where he tied me up. My mind started to wander aimlessly and I pranced around impatiently, waiting for him to return. My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a jerk
on my bridle. The curb bit dug into my mouth painfully and I snorted, pawing at the dust. "Hey, you can't do that!" my rider shouted as he reappeared with a water bucket. He set it down in the dirt and ran over to me as I was being led away.
"I can do what I want, ye ol' fool!" he growled. My rider slunk back and watched in fear as the stranger led me away. The
blistered hands were nothing like I had seen before. They were much
rougher than my owner's gentle touch. I pinned my ears and lifted my head, daring to refuse to go any further.
"Git here, you dang creature!"
he snapped. I dared to turn my head at my rider, who was watching
mournfully, but my gaze didn't last long. The angry man tugged at my
lead again, making me turn away in pain. I let out a whinny to my
pasture mates, but I only got a silent reply as frightened eyes peered
at me through the stalls. "Lead 'im in," the man ordered my rider. I
now understood what was happening. I had overheard my owner conversing
with this same man weeks before. He had been yelling at my owner for
refusing a breeding request with one of his stallions, and I had heard
he was desperate for his stud to have a foal with a mare. Now I knew
who that unlucky mare was.
::11 months later::
Standing
over my overo colt, I nuzzled him as I led him away from gossiping
mares. I glared at them and their foals, which were wondering why they
couldn't play. He'll never understand...
I sighed, lowering my head to graze on some dew-covered grass. As the
breeze ruffled my mane, something nudged me. I looked up to see an old
friend that had been standing quietly away from the other mares.
"Teketa, don't let it get to you. One day it won't be like this," she said softly into my ear.
"But Whisper, I don't think it'll ever get better for him," I shook my head.
My foal's spindling legs took a shaky step closer to me. "Why can't I play with the other colts?" he whimpered softly, reaching up to nudge my shoulder. I didn't speak at first. With a flick of my ear, I turned to face the little chestnut paint.
"They don't understand us, Chief. They just don't understand."
::Art::
