I am Slowly Drifting Away (Bishop)

A deep bay pelt, covers a muscled carcass. Big bones give this brute a massive stance, and a broad chest. Onyx mane, tail and stockings give a strike of contrast to the bay pelt. Deep brown eyes seem at points to be almost black. A question mark like scar gives flaw to his chiseled visage.

Rage and emotionless. Two words that this powerful beast embody. His past has made him this way. He is determined and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Patience is a virtue, and it is one of many this equine lacks. His short temper and tendency to jump to conclusions make him hard to handle. Never off guard, Biso’s first instinct is to be on the defensive side. However, from his mother he has learned that trust is everything, and that you cannot survive without the help of others. Deep down this bay brute wants to follow his mother’s wisdom and live up to her expectations. But his past makes this nearly impossible.

Bishop, was born into a herd that lusted for prestige. It was a small herd with around fifteen members, most of which were stallions and their where some questions about interbreeding. The mares that would give clean bloodlines to all the stallions where valued and highly protected. One of these prized mares was a deep bay with a striking white blaze. She was poised and wise, she was the matriarch of the herd and was persuade by many stallions. Livarta was Bishop’s mother, and he was lucky to be born to such a saint.


The colts of this herd were viewed as the devils spawn. They were beaten as soon as they could walk, few survived the first week, and those who did where the least fortunate. Bishop received beating after beating and despite the determination of the herd’s stallions this colt would not die. Biso would come home bloodied and sometimes barley able to walk. There he would meet the loving embrace of his beautiful mother. She would have a painful look in her eye and fought back tears as her son fought for his life. And she was the only reason he survived. Unlike the other mothers who would abandon their colts and hope to birth a filly the next season: Livarta would stand by her son’s body and guard him, sometimes it would take a few days others a week. But there the angle stood guarding her son, against predators and the herd stallions. For no stallion dared to hurt this prized mare. This lasted for three long years, the beatings just got worse as Bishop got older, yet he managed to survive.

However, the worst beating came when Bishop turned three, which is when he came of age. He had lasted this long and would now go through the initiation to become a herd stallion. Livarta feared this day, for the mark of the herd was put upon the stallions. This mark was engraved by a kick just outside the eye. The gash formed a question mark, and usually healed. However if the equines aim was off the stallion would lose its eye and possibly its life. This was a process Livarta had yet to come across. Bishop was her fourth foal but only her second colt. Her first foal was a chestnut colt that fled the herd when she was carrying Bishop.


Bishop was out on a leisure walk, despite his mother’s plea to stay. He wasn’t a helpless foal anymore, but even more so he wanted revenge. Biso did feel guilty for leaving his mother, the look she gave him when he left her side tugged at his conscious. But he walked until she was out of sight. After a few minutes, the rocks beneath the bays hoofs began to shake, and battle cries sounded near. Bishop’s body tensed his thorns stood erect he heard them coming, and he knew what they were coming for. His frame shook as his nerves twitched. Perhaps he had pushed his luck.

Two, three, five. Five. There were five grown stallions coming Bishops way. It was time, and instead of running from the inevitable, the bay stallion stood grounded with his visage held high. The group slowed as the approached, the pranced in place, and pawed at the ground as the encircled the younger brute. Their orbs danced with the pleasure of inflicting pain. And they didn’t take long to start in.


They lashed out, on at a time each taking their turn. The group did not like Bishop has he had yet to reach his full potential and was already outshining them. But they had experience and force in numbers on Bishop, and he was losing greatly. He fought back when he could but there was just too many. They had one specific target, him, and he had five equines to focus on. Biso was losing blood and with it his strength.



Blackness inhabited the brutes mind. Not from blacking out just from all the commotion, he was no longer thinking, his survival instincts kicked in and his movements became mechanical. After what seemed like hours, the group backed off and once again formed a circle around Bishop. But this time his head was not held proud and his once gleaming coat had diminished to a bruised and bloodied body. He has survived but there was one more mark to be made. The distinctive mark of the prestigious herd, the strongest stallion approached Bishop raised his foreleg and delivered the deathly blow. Biso staggered backward, as his head split open and blood started rushing from the wound. The hot liquid ran into Bishop’s eye causing him to lose his sight and stagger backwards. The group laughed. Under herd law they were supposed to leave him, but these stallions wanted more.

The mob rushed in on Bishop again, but a familiar cry slowed them. It was Livarta, once again the angle had come to save her son, but was it too late? She came galloping down to her child and placed herself at his flank ready to charge any of the stags who encroached on her protective bubble. Three stallions backed off, knowing how important this mare was to the herd. The bay momma bear stared at the other two brutes. And reluctantly the fourth backed off. But a black stallion still remained. His sides heaved, and his body was covered in a sleek sweat. He was hot and wanted more blood. He charged at Bishop, and Livarta stepped in his way. Before he could stop himself the black stag kicked the mare in the chest.


The crack of that the impact made seemed to slow down time. No one moved as the bay mare fell to the ground her breast torn open her blood flowing out of her body. The five stallions stood stock still not knowing what to do. Bishop’s breath was caught, but he didn’t notice his body reacting to the lack of oxygen, he was too busy watching his mother die. As Livarta gasped for air the five stallions took off running leaving the prized mare and her battered son alone. Biso took three limping steps towards his mother; her body began to twitch as life left her. A tear feel form the bay stallions chocolate eye and he let out a sigh as is mother took her last breath. She was gone; the sweet guardian angel was gone. She died for her son, a son other mothers would have left to die. How ironic that she is the one lying dead…


He couldn’t stay here, they had killed her. The herd that she trusted so much, the herd she said he would one day be a part of because they were his family. That herd that killed the only family he had ever known. He had to leave. Lowering his bloodied neck Bishop took in one lest breathe of his mother’s scent and hobbled away, without looking back.



Hope the history included is okay!