*Master* of /a l l/ .Bow. to your >q u e e n<

The filly stumbled into one of the empty pastures, her kissers sweeping the long stalks of grass. She took a few of small mouthfuls, before spitting them out. Her grey coat shimmered silver in the weak moonlight, and she soon reached to top fence, before collapsing onto the ground, her sides heaving.

She had been travelling for days on end, and she was exhausted. The two year old had been unable to find any food for 3 days, and had only drunken at the small ponds that littered the dead lands.

The filly had a light grey coat, with dapples on her shoulders, rump and chest. She was extremely pretty, with the bloodlines of some of the best racehorses. Her legs, maw and eyes were covered in a fine layering of black hair, and she has light brown, large eyes. Her mane and tail are stained with black ink, and are full and silky.

Master Of All is the prize that all stallions would kill for to have as a mate, the prize that any breeder would give anything for, and the filly that any trainer would die for.

The filly did not object as the rope slid down her light grey neck. As the rope tightened, she scrambled to her feet. She let out a forlorn little whinny, before walking slowly up to the boy who had roped her.

Master rested her large maw on the boy's chest, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

The femmae's legs shook dangerously, and her ribs stuck out against her grey pelt. She whimpered slightly, and took her lips off the boy's chest, to take a few stalks of grass.

Filly lifted her head, and gazed at the stables in the distance. The sound of horse's filled her ears and she let out a louder whinny.

The femme took a wobbly step, stumbled but recovered. She let out another small call to the stallion, and kept walking with Dylan, each step taking an effort for her weak and malnourished state.

The two-year old lay down as soon as the rope was removed from her neck, and her breathing became slightly more shallower. Sweat glistened on her neck, and the filly's dry tongue licked her lips.
Master raised her head, looking around for the water she could smell, and the warm bran mash that she missed dearly.

The femmae raised her head sleepily, and took a long sip of water from the bucket, and a mouthful of the food. A small whinny escaped her maw, and the food and water that hit her empty stomach was like a new sun.

The filly's head rested on the ground, and her eyes fluttered closed. A small sigh escaped her lips, and she finally fell asleep.

Master turned her head to nibble Dylan's sleeve affectionately, not knowing what was happening. She watched curiously as her tail was held out of the way, and her skull was tied securely to a pole.

The filly tried to throw up her head, but the elastic lead just yanked it back down. She lifted up her rump, attempting to buck the stallion off. Her back leg lashed out, and she just missed the stallion's legs.
Master's grey ears lay flat against her head, and she bared her teeth, snapping them at the empty air.

15 minutes it took. 10 minutes of struggle, of kicking and biting and trying to rid herself of the stallion on her back. She knew that it would happen again, and she knew that she may be better next time, but she was 3 years old, and wild.
The last 5 minutes, the filly had stopped struggling, sweat pouring off her flanks and shoulders, and sides heaving. She could feel the stallion's teeth on her withers, drawing blood slightly, and as soon as she felt him slip, she started to fight again.
After a while, Master collapsed on the ground. The sweat had stained her pelt dark grey, and the dapples were nearly invisible. Her legs shook as she lay on the ground, and her sides heaved unevenly. She felt as bad as she was 6 months ago, but knew that this was not the end.
She stopped fighting at last, and looked up at Dylan with her large, brown eyes.

Master got shakily to her feet, relieving her neck of the uncomfortable position it had been in, and shook out the sweat in her coat.
She lifted her tail slightly higher, her tall, lean and muscular frame glowing slightly in the dim lighting, and tried to shake it out of the bandage. The stallions behind her went berserk, and started to pace, paw and rear at their closed doors.
The femme immediately turned, tucking her tail to her backside, and bared her teeth at the stallions.

Master dipped her lips into the cool water, and drank deeply. She loved the feel of the water trickling down her throat. The grey filly looked at Dylan, her eyes sad.

Young mare snorted softly, turning her head away slightly as she moved further into her box. Black tail whipped her flanks gently as Master nosed around on the ground before laying down with a soft thud.

Her grey coat shimmered slightly, rippling over her toned body. Her ribs showed no more, but she was not obese. Her mane and tail were full, shiny and beautiful and her gorgeous brown eyes were alive. The young filly looked a lot better than she did 6 months back.