Through shadows I wander,
Through blood I wade.
A deadly trauma,
You cannot escape...

Fierce yellow orbs glowed with malice and hate, and a shrill cry rent the cooling air. The rabbit cried out in agony, blinded by maximatosis and suffering from many wounds apparently caused by the equine looming over it. It lay prone on the ground, stretched out to full length, limbs twisted and broken. The horse gave a rumbling laugh, the sort of noise a mountain would make if it could speak.
The horse was a huge black-and-red mare, of truely collosal proportions. Her muscles made the surrounding trees look weak, and her bloody tresses gave her a demonic look. Cruelty was plain on her features, as she brought a dinner-plate sized hoof down on the rabbit again, crushing the life from it.

The dark mare chuckled, wiping her feathered daggers through the bloodstained dirt. Lowering her red-dyed muzzle to the rabbit, she gave it one last baleful glare and picked it up in her jaws, savouring the sweet tang of blood flowing from the mangled corpse. Haja sighted contentedly, throwing the rabbit a good distance through the trees, where it bounced sideways-on against a tree.
Things were good now. In her twisted mind, she was enjoying herself.

" I wonder when those other stupid horses will come... I want to speak with someone.

I don't know. Sooon... Soon... And you always have me, I'm always here.

But you are boring. And I can't hurt you.

You shouldn't hurt ANYONE Haja. Nobody will speak to you, and you will be left alone with me... "

The schitzophrenic horse muttered to herself, nipping herself on the shoulder. Eyes burned feverishly, black-and-bloody pelt seeming to radiate the same sort of glow. It was clear she was mad; from the way she twitched slightly while glaring at the trees, to the low muttering as she spoke to herself.
A short while later, she was composed. She had "persuaded" herself to behave, and now a nasty bruise lingered on her midnight barrel.
She had put up good resistance, but in the end her better side won. She wanted to socialise, something rare for her, something usually out of reach.

So with a shrill whinny, she rose to her hinds and beat the air with her forelegs, awaiting the form of another equine to appear through the trees.

Quickly becoming bored with her watch, the mare procceded to amuse herself with the cold mist, batting it into shapes with her hooves. But harks were on keen alert for hoofbeats, and she was not to be surprised.

Laugh at the air,
My mind's long gone.
And left in despair,
I'm falling long.
Away, away, to the pits of hell.
Away, Away, I hear the last bells,
Of sweet surrender, to the dark of death.