His ankle really wasn't bothering him. That much. He walked easily, no limp in sight. Though, underneath that fine, crimson pelt, bones and tendons were working. And near his ankle, they were straining. Trying to get him to walk correctly and painlessly, they caused more pain. It was like trying to stop a sinking boat. If you threw the water out, there was just more for it to come back in. You couldn't win, and neither could his hard-working muscles near his right fore. Still, he walked proud with his head held high, unscarred body strutting along like a King. Which, actually, he was. King of the lights; some accomplishment. When all he had been before was King of the losers. King of the broken racehorses, who couldn't even run anymore. Absolutely beaming, he high-stepped like a Saddlebred, letting all know that he was important, he held a high position of power.

Enjoying the sunlight, he paused. Something was different. His paper-thin nostrils diluted, inhaling an unfamiliar scent. It was a female, yes, but of what? Uneasily, he shifted his weight and cast a look around. Something wasn't right. She didn't seem bad, whoever she was, but you never knew. If only Speed could see her... she didn't smell, nor did being in her presence give him the impression, like a horse. A full-blooded equine. Could she perhaps be a donkey? Or a mule? Back at the racetrack, there had been a few of those, mostly teasers to get the mares ready to breed. But she didn't smell like either of them. Very cautious, he tossed his high-strung head, filled with a mostly-empty brain, and gave a high whinny. It was telling whoever was there that he was a tall, sixteen-point-two hand Thoroughbred, and he wasn't one to be messed with.

Then he saw her. Instantly, his second call that he was emitting faltered in mid-sentence, and he could only stare. She was the most peculiar, interesting, curious thing he had ever seen. Ebony stripes were going vertically down her otherwise spotless, ivory pelt in more than one places, but breaking up every now and then. He had never seen anything with such a pattern. Colt-like oaken eyes widened, looking at her forelock which was sticking up, and her mane. She definately wasn't a horse, but maybe something else? Not a donkey, that was for sure. Or a mule.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Speed decided to do his best not to be rude, but still find out what kind of animal she was.
"Lo, m'lady. I am Speed; King of Lights. Who--and what, if I may ask--would you be?"
He executed a half-bow, still precoppied with her stunning pattern.
[477 words]
[Rushed]
[Muse-less]