In a stand of stringybarks, a mare quietly grazed. She lifted her head and looked nervously towards where her foal lay sleeping in the snowgrass. Coorabin was stretched out on his side, and he stirred when she nosed him. The colt blinked and looked drowsily about himself. Only half-awake, the colt gave a wondering sort of sigh and then lay back down. Warridanga nudged him with her soft nose, reassured he was truly hers. He looked so very small, and the mare sometimes worried he would vanish into the bush and she would be alone once more. She was fascinated by her newborn foal, for the mare was only young, and the feelings he stirred within her were both queer and exciting.

The mare gave a snort, and then dropped her head to nibble on the snowgrass. However, she found herself so restless with longing she could barely stand still. Her hide prickled uneasily, and she tossed up her head, and looked to the foal in the snowgrass. The sunlight glistened brilliantly in the golden hairs of his mane and tail, and the mare thought him splendid indeed. Her ears flicked back and forth, and Warridanga purposefully grazed her way towards a belt of timber, where the ti tree and rough stringybarks thinned. The mare sighed deeply, suddenly filled with such sadness and loss. Then she turned, and walked back to where her foal lay sleeping still. Warridanga nudged him suddenly and urgently, feeling within herself some terrible sense of dread.

The colt stood for one moment, swaying on legs he had not yet mastered. Then his mother nickered, and Coorabin walked unsteadily forwards. Warridanga swung around to urge him on, but the colt squealed in protest, for he suddenly found himself so tired he could hardly stand. The young mare nickered again, and his soft nose bumped her flank as he thrust his head under to drink. Coorabin nursed for only a short while, but even the warmth of his mother’s milk could not give him comfort. The colt was unable to remain standing, and he dropped down into the deep sleep of young ones. Warridanga looked on worriedly, and then with the tenderest of caresses, touched her nose to the sleeping foal.

OOC: For Burrello and Warridanga only.

Warridanga stood and rested in the warm bars of sunlight. The young mare stirred nervously when a wattlebird gave its harsh cry from the low clump of mimosa. Just at that moment, there came a great trumpeting call, and the mare started badly in fright. The whites showed in her eyes as she tossed up her head and listened with ears pricked forwards. And Warridanga could feel something move deep within her, for she realised it was Burrello, searching for his missing mare. Warridanga trembled all over with a profound longing, and then, quite unable to contain herself, she gave a ringing neigh. Then she turned and roughly nosed Coorabin, so the foal awoke with a sleepy squeal of protest.

Warridanga could feel herself filled with some restless excitement, and when Coorabin stood and tried to drink, she swung her haunches about and struck out with her hind leg. The foal clung close to her side as the mare pushed on through the whippy saplings and scrubby timber. His legs were unsteady, and once or twice, he almost fell. Warridanga hurried down a narrow and shaly track. Warridanga stopped quite suddenly, and turned to her chestnut foal. She snuffled him anxiously all over, and nosed the foal towards her bulging teats. Coorabin propped and shied away, for he remembered how she had driven him off. Insistent, Warridanga nudged him harder, and the foal finally thrust his head under her flank.

The mare nibbled on the snowgrass, suddenly aware of how dreadfully still the bush had grown. She could feel the sweat break out behind her ears, as from further down the roughly timbered flat, there came some sound of movement. Coorabin looked up at her curiously, for he sensed both her excitement and anxiety, and he wondered at it. The mare barely seemed to notice him as she hurried on through the stand of eucalypts. Only when his shoulder bumped her flank, did Warridanga remember the foal. Here the encircling stringybarks thinned, and the mare gave a glad neigh as she finally saw him, his head held high and mane and tail lifted by a light wind. Then Warridanga walked towards him, walked on with that proud, swinging carriage, while Coorabin followed strongly at her side.

She was truly beautiful in her joy, a young mare and her newborn son. She looked at him earnestly a moment, before she stepped forwards to greet him. The mare nibbled fondly on his shoulder, and then swung around to touch his nose to hers. Coorabin moved anxiously at her side, and Warridanga turned and nickered encouragement. She breathed in deeply, and trembled at the intensity of her feelings. “This is Coorabin,” she said shyly, as she gently nudged him out from her side. The foal stood on splayed legs, with ears sharply pricked and nostrils quivering. His chestnut coat glistened brightly in the sunlight, and Warridanga found herself filled with such tenderness for this firstborn son of hers.

Warridanga was bursting with pride. Her first foal was strong and handsome with his bright chestnut coat and queer white face. More than that, she had found Burrello and perhaps also his small mob of mares, and he had greeted their foal with such gentleness. The mare whickered contentedly, and rested her head on the stallion’s withers, a sign of unspoken trust and affection. Each time she looked at him, she felt something stir deep within her, a reassurance, which told her she belonged to Burrello and would belong to him for as long as she lived.

Coorabin squealed and presented his rear to the stallion. There was the thump of his hooves as he kicked out, and then he turned and galloped away. The foal stood with ears flickering uncertainly back and forth, as he thought it all over with a look of intense concentration. The mare paid no attention to her bad-tempered foal, and started to graze on all of the rich pockets of snowgrass that she could find.

The foal sniffed and snorted at everything in reach, and his tail flapped with excitement. Something moved in the snowgrass, and Coorabin stamped and snorted. His ears tipped forwards and he lowered his nose to investigate. There was a strong, sharp smell, and the foal stepped forwards with nostrils wide. He wasn’t able to figure out where the smell came from, and he stamped his foot again.

Coorabin was now some twenty yards from his mother, when he looked up and noticed he was alone. The foal thought perhaps he should be frightened, but there was that interesting smell still, and a sound that came somewhere from the ground nearby. With his ears alert, Coorabin gave an eager whinny and then followed the sound for the better part of a mile. It was the river that interested him, and the foal watched it intently for a long while before he was convinced to approach.

His whole body trembled, and his ears went in all directions as he dropped his nose to further investigate. The shock of cold surprised him, and the foal shook himself all over as if he had tasted something bad. Coorabin mouthed the water, and decided it was not at all like milk, which was warm and good. The foal gathered himself to jump, as all of sudden, something flung itself against his legs, so the foal staggered one step forwards and then fell.

Warridanga, had been grazing almost shoulder to shoulder with Burrello when she stood suddenly alert. Her head up, the mare turned to see if Coorabin lay somewhere in the snowgrass. With a loud snort, the mare found her foal was nowhere to be seen or heard. She started to call wildly and race about looking everywhere the foal could be, until, covered in lather, she turned and bolted in the direction the sound had come.