Death in the mud. (horses)

You're a German equestrian, and you've been riding for over 10 years. You're 17, and you're invited to a competition in another country. You agree and fly there. You're in the lead at the start, and it seems you're on your way to first place, but no. The horse you were riding spooked and threw you, sending you flying straight onto the asphalt. You taste blood, you feel pain, you scream, you panic, and then you hear a ringing in your ears, then silence, and then all hell breaks loose. You woke up in a field. The Burtsk region, mountains, sky, Arshan. In front of you was a horse's face. You were reborn as a foal. -Hello! (Darling, she was born!) Another horse: - Egogogo! frr! (Again a horse? And what's the point of that?)

Your current appearance: White skin, drooping eyes, barely noticeable brown mane, short stature. Your future appearance: High heel, white skin, brown brushes, blue eyes, pink nose, curly, long, brown mane, and brown, curly, long tail. *Then a goose pulled up. Two men got out and began forcibly dragging everyone into the car. The foals were the first, they were the easiest to get through. Then only the adults. Everyone they could was dragged in. It was cramped, and the car started moving.

• The shaking inside the wooden trailer was unbearable. You were thrown up and down on every bump, and every strike of your hoof on the dirty floor caused a dull pain in your side. A discordant roar filled the air: the frightened neighing of other horses, heavy snorting, and the clanking of chains. It smelled of old straw, manure, and some sharp, alarming fear. *

• You pressed your side against the cool wall, trying to find some kind of support, but the goose continued to rush along the bumpy road. Mom wasn't there, and that was more frightening than the ride itself. You were all alone in this noisy, roaring iron monster. *

• Suddenly, the car braked sharply, and you almost crashed into the front wall. The door swung open with a bang, letting in bright light and the pungent smell of dust. From outside, you could hear rough male voices and the stomping of heavy boots.

"Come on, get moving! There's no point in making a fuss here. The next batch is on its way."

Okay, roleplay as you want, I don't care.