Hoshor Plains cowboy like me

She clomped her lips together a couple times, a sign of general amusement; her storytelling was going over well, she thought, as the most effective storytellers often took some grief from the caretakers for the crying of foals in the night-time from fearful stories and nightmares. Mallow was a year old though- and it was right for her to know that her actions in life might have consequences. Nightmarish tales could sometimes be enough to steer the most unruly children toward adopting better behavior. 

"Anor is his name; a great red steed with yellow, snake-eyes; fangs for teeth, and claws for hooves. His tail is a whip, and it makes a crack louder than thunder when he flicks it." She said. "He'll drag any wandering souls down to the darkness, and he's the one the Dark Horse puts in charge of doling out eternal punishment." She said. She flicked an ear, as if in irritation. "He's the reason us sorrels get such a bad reputation," She said, with a dry but bitter laugh.

 "Spawn of Anor!" She remembered being teased as a child, and how it caused her to grow stronger and tougher; once she'd become a yearling she'd put her heels to the sprightly colts who had taunted her, and had established herself within the herd. 

"So you've got choices to make, in your life, and you'll face them every day. So long as you're true to yourself and true to your herd, you'll cross through the Green to the Goldenrealm. Personally, I think you got nothin' to be afraid of," She said, running her muzzle over the grulla's withers.