The sky turned and awful shade of gray as a long stride ebony hued Arabian mare lead herself into the valley. Rubber narrs flarred as she searched for fresh air to suck into her lungs. Twin horns perked forth then fell, they laid flat to her thin defined skull. She slowed her pace and halted. Pawing the ground with impatience, she wickered. Ebony dyed whip cords lashed her rear quarters. A loud whinny... nor a scream was emitted from the depth of her black twisted soul. Her cursage which few got the pleasure of knowing was Dark Angel. The Angel of Death some have called her. The wench shook her thin petite skull, twin peaks perked forth listening to the sounds the valley made then plastered to the back of her skull with rage. Rage seemed to flicker in her ebony dyed optics. Pawing the ground fiercely she snorted, throwing her crown heaven bounds she let a shrilling, bone crunching howl echoed her vocals. She was on the hunt, the hunt to find another like herself.