Personality
Ynilla was an innocent mare, but after the terrible fighting in her filly-hood is now sassy, and knows she is quite pretty. She's quite happy to play the innocent and likes to run rings around others, especially stallions. She is a confident mare, sometimes too much so which gets her into all kinds of trouble (but she'll never admit it was an accident. Of course she meant to fall in that bog, silly!). She gets snappy if you pick at her or make fun of her and isn't afraid to get nasty either. Even though she is dainty and fast, she's not afraid of a fight.
She's not mean or cruel but she gets impatient and is impulsive. Her poast had forced her to take care of herself, but she has taken that to the extreme.
Basics
Name: Ynilla
Age: 7 years old
Gender: Mare
Colour: Mealy bay skewbald
Breed: Pintabian
Height: 15.1hh
History
Ynilla was born to a large, strong herd of horses. They owned much of the range, and escaped capture many times. They moved further and further into unchartered territory, the lead stallion and mare hungry for more power and land - they longed for it so much, they began to lose sight of the wellbeing of their herd.
Ynilla was only 3 at the time. Some of the other, older members were becoming tired of the constant travelling and lack of coherency within the group. The lead mare and stallion had become distant and their focus was lost as miles of land fell under their belts.
Others were fiercely loyal to the leaders, backing them up speaking up for them. The group began to drift apart. At last, one bold member spoke up. He called the leaders out, threatening them with desertion should they not heed his followers words - decide what is most important to you... land and power or family?
Things in the herd grew very tense very quickly. The leaders snapped back that the rebels wouldn't dare leave and that their words were false. Why would they leave the most powerful group, and it's protection and provisions? But the rebels knew that without half of their herd, the leaders' power would soon diminish, especially if the rebels decided to fight for their land.
So, the group split - the rebels followed their leader, turning away to regroup and decide what to do next. But the original leaders were not about to let half of their gene pool walk away.
A vicious fight exploded as both 'herds' spun on each other, lashing out with hooves, baring teeth and striking out bodily against the others. Horses which, that morning had been accquaintances, fought for hours as new-found enemies, for freedom or for power.
Ynilla was lost. She didn't know which side to be on - she never had chosen a herd which she wanted to be a part of. She didn't want to lose either half of her herd. But she knew she had to fight or die. Horses came at her and she blindly struck out at them, eyes flicking wildly from face to face. Horses she recognized, horses she didn't. Horses she had been friends with only hours ago.
After a last few terrible hours, the injured horses split, and Ynilla fled with the nearest horse.
The small group staggered away into the dusk, Ynilla trailing behind, limping. She fell behind the others to rest, panting heavily, blood trickling silently from her nose. She fell into a deep, deep sleep. Awaking, she found the others to be rising from the ground, groaning and sighing and in various states of condition. She recognised the leader of the rebels amongst them, and he gathered them together to figure out what to do next...