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The land is destroyed. There is nothing left for anything to thrive on, nothing, humans wiped out, the fish, insects and birds all gone, but one creature remains. The equine. They have scattered about, forming separate tribes, bands, bloodthirsty and uncontrollable. There is nothing that will stop them from tasting the metallic blood on their kissers, the bones of others snapping in their jaws. The equines have turned bloodthirsty as nothing else survived. A thick smog covers the land, blocking out the harmful sun rays, closing in the poisonous gases. The land is in ruins, nothing else remains except for the skeletons of equines and the moans of others dying, for the horses who inhabit this land are no better off. Thin and weak they push on, fighting daily, dying slowly. Neither herd has gained and neither herd has lost they are still fighting each other here today, still trying to gain the land. Each herd following the foot steps of whom they chose to follow, will the suffering ever end? Will there ever be peace again?
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Deathly hot, highs of about 100 and low of about 90
Season:
Late Summer
Fighting:
Yes
Foaling:
No
Breeding:
No
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