|
|
Post by Corowa on May 20, 2009 1:34:08 GMT
Myrrina
When Werrilah left her side, Myrrina stood for a moment searching the winds, ears sharply pricked and nostrils quivering. Slowly, almost shyly, the mare grazed her way towards Tingara. Only when she could stand this trembling excitement no longer, when her very blood throbbed with it and every hair stood on end, did Myrrina raise her head. With the softest whicker of greeting towards the two mares, she extended her nose to his.
“So how is it with you my mate?” she asked. For the mare knew he would limp for many days still, and here even amongst his beloved mares, he seemed almost too tired to stand. Ears pricked, the mare gently nosed his shoulder, touched her nose so tenderly to each of those terrible gashes. Always would he carry the scars of that great struggle, and always would Myrrina remember her betrayal. When the currawong called twice and was silent, the mare shivered. For had not the wise currawong spoken, told of sorrow and death, when she had followed the grey stallion away into the snow? Stirring fearfully, Myrrina pressed closer to the other mares, suddenly afraid he would come for her once more.
Werrilah
Werrilah leapt to one side, when the roan filly came too close. Then she propped and nimbly whirled around, and lashing out playfully with his heels, the colt squealed with excitement. Tail held high, Werrilah galloped swiftly over the springy snowgrass, heart pounding strongly in his chest. That fascinating brown filly came to greet him, and Werrilah slackened in his headlong gallop. When the filly struck out, he answered with several lively bucks. Throwing up his head, the white colt abruptly stopped. “I am Werrilah, son of Tingara,” he said proudly, and then more mischievously went on. “Might I know your name too filly, for a stallion must know the name of the mares with which he runs.”
Durroon
Even the gentle and wise Durroon had grown tired of the trembling shyness of the other mares. Filled with restlessness, Durroon pawed the ground impatiently and then giving Taworri a firm nip, stood with head held high and nostrils flared. Watching the young colt and fillies play, the old mare tossed her head with an eager snort and then leapt away after Boorana and that queer white colt. Suddenly a brown and white blotched filly swung about in front of her, nimbly dodged the white colt and then galloped madly off. Pulling up sharply, the mare turned and trotted off towards where Tingara’s mares stood.
OOC: Someone from Tingara's herd can talk to Durroon if they want
|
|
|
|
Post by Ehetere on May 20, 2009 9:20:46 GMT
“I don’t like it,” replied Muyan, her ears flicking around in nervousness, “All of these horses! It is unwise to have such a large herd at any time of year; in winter it makes the search for food an hourly struggle, and in all the other months men hunt us! You’re injured and will take time to heal; and while you do we cannot truly travel with any swiftness. We will all need a lot of grass as most of us are with foal. And the foals! They just make a herd of this size that much more difficult to hide and they slow us down even more. Mares will need even more grass to feed their foals and themselves. Mare will wander to have their foals… the list of dangers goes on and on! There are a great number of desirable horses in one spot now; and the men will not hesitate to hunt us if they catch even a glimpse of a pretty coat. I only say this out of concern for everyone Tingara; having this many horses in one place will bring trouble to us all!” She affectionately nibbled at his mane and then trying to sooth his wounds; all of a sudden very self conscious. Muyan was rarely a mare of many words, abut when she said something like that it meant that she really meant every word. She did not like to waste words; and everything she said she usually thought about for a long time beforehand.
There were nervous mares milling around; fillies careering about playing games; the scent of horses was so strong in the air it was almost like a heavy curtain of mist. There was sudden heat and humidity; a feeling of pressure; and Muyan could not for the life of her shake the feeling of being watched. Her hide prickled uncomfortably, and every unusual noise or sudden squeal made her jump ever so slightly. There was a feeling of foreboding in the air; and whether it was simply Muyan’s fear for her unborn foal or something more she did not know, but all Muyan knew was that there was danger brought by these new mares. |
|
|
|
Post by tingara on May 23, 2009 13:04:23 GMT
Gently Tingara whinnied to the new mares trying to entice them over for some company. This was their herd now, a fact that he could not and was not willing to change. He was not about to return them to Nevada, from the moment he had herded them away there was no going back. The King sighed and began to nibble on Brael’s mane affectionately, already the moonfilly was proving herself to be an interesting and lively addition.
Myrrina then came into view and the black stallion nuzzled her lovingly. He still could not believe he had his mate by his side once again. He whickered contentedly as she brushed her soft muzzle over his battle wounds. “I will survive but Nevada I am not so sure. What if I have killed him? That was not what I wanted,” he sighed sadly. The injuries he had inflicted on the white stallion were serious ones.
Muyan spoke and Tingara listened to every word she said and knew what she said to be fair. “You are right; this vast amount of mares makes this herd a target. This is why I plan to move us all to Yarraman’s Valley as soon as I am able to travel. Men do not go there, there we will all be safe I promise you,” the King said hoping to reassure the beautiful grey mare. He was pretty sure the men would not be around for awhile, they had caught many horses last year. So many in fact that there was really no need for another brumby run for awhile.
He was distracted from his train of thought by the appearance of wise Durroon. At last at least one of the new mares had come over. Tingara extended his nose to hers in greeting before boldly grooming her withers. He was unsure as to how he would be received but, as his son and daughter frolicked with the new fillies, he felt some hope that this new herd would one day fit together nicely. “Luz, Kirrikie,” the stallion whickered softly to the dark and pinot mares, beckoning them over, “I am sorry if I frightened you. Our first meeting was not exactly the best one.” He was ashamed, he had frightened all the mares and he knew they disliked him for it.
~~~
Castelle whinnied and kicked up her hooves in pure and utter delight. The other fillies had joined her! At last she had others to play with that would not grow as tired as quickly as her mother and they would actually understand the games she was trying to play. As she ran a nip on her hindquarters told her it was her turn to chase. Squealing in delight, the fewspot filly wheeled around and began to chase a chestnut filly who smelt a lot like her. A sister!
Positively beaming, Castelle tore after her sister and the fillies of the white stallion’s blood. This day could not get any better.
|
|
|
|
Post by Tiggs on May 23, 2009 14:02:16 GMT
Gleeful that her older sister Bindaree had joined in the game, it wasn’t long before Quinja was having too much fun to worry about the strange stallion, or dwell on the disturbing sight of her father beaten and defeated. The strange spotted filly was fun to play with, and the two yearlings bounded joyously about, nearly avoiding rushing into the adult mares.
Wyralla had also joined in the game, and Quinja whinnied for her yearling half-sister Biara to join in too. Boorana looked quite smug that the white colt had singled her out, and Quinja giggled at the sight of the yearling colt trying to impress two-year-old Boorana. Her half-sister seemed amused, and was apparently humouring him. Feeling particularly cheeky, Quinja peeled off from the game and gestured for the other fillies to watch.
Prancing up to the colt, she stood beside Boorana and pulled a proud stance. Lifting her head, she stood as regally as a yearling could manage. Humour glinting in her eyes, she did her best impression of Boorana. “Hail, colt! I am Quinja, princess of the universe!” Squealing in delight and barely contained laughter, she wheeled and cavorted away to the rest of the group, giggling. She apparently found it all very funny.
Crayola meanwhile had grazed apart from Tingara, and had come to approach the mousey brown mare. Head on level with her shoulders, ears saddled neutrally, the calm spotted mare greeted the elder with a touch of her muzzle on her withers. She had automatically assumed a submissive role, as she often did, but this mare demanded more respect than most. “Hello, I’m Crayola, what’s your name? You’re with foal, have you chosen a name yet? Do you think it will be a colt or filly? I’m hoping for a colt this year – I miss my first son dearly. His name is Prisma. He looks just like his father, only with white spots. All of my foals have spots. I don’t think yours will though, you don’t have spots. What was your last stallion like? Did he have spots?” She asked in quick succession with no pause in between for poor Durroon to answer. The spotted mare was earnest, at least, and seemed quite enthused at the idea of more foals.
|
|
|
|
Post by yaruka on May 24, 2009 2:08:57 GMT
At the colt's words Boorana stilled, acting offended though she was really quite enjoying the game. "I do not run with you, colt. Merely around you." she answered mockingly. "I am not yours to be had." She danced away, glancing over her shoulder to see if he would follow. Let him work a little harder at his flattery before she gave him any ground. In truth he was much too young for her for now, but if there was fun to be had Boorana was all for it. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught the grulla's attention and she turned to see Quinja prance over. Hail, colt! I am Quinja, princess of the universe!" Trying not to laugh, Boorana whirled in mock anger and snapped playfully at the dark grey. "I'm afraid that position is mine," she said, tossing her head in mock superiority. She then turned back to the white colt, rearing up proudly. "Come, let us run!" she said boldly, more of a command than a request. Returning to the ground she kicked out playfully and took off through the center of the herd. It was more fun to run when there were obstacles to dodge around.
---------------------
Watching Boorana's sassy toss of her head Bindaree snorted softly, the slate coloured filly was so different from her sweet and shy dam. Poor colt, she thought, he had no idea what he was dealing with. Bindaree could tell that her half-sister was merely humouring the white colt for now, and having fun as she did it. The willowy blue roan watched in amusement as her younger sister pranced over to tease Boorana and the colt. Laughing at Boorana's put on display of anger, Bindaree quickly resumed the game of chase, peeling after Quinja as she raced back into the game.
---------------
Wyralla squealed in mock terror as the few spot appaloosa turned and chased after her. Bucking with barely controlled energy, the chestnut filly frolicked happily, leading the brown and white on a swift chase about the edges of the herd.
----------------
At Durroon's impatient nip the chocolate and cream mare seemed to come out of a daze. Raising her fine head, she looked after the older mare, before turning to nuzzle her daughter beside her. "Go Biara," she said gently "Play with the other young ones. It should not be up to you to mope with the rest of us." Noting the concern still evident in the toffee coloured filly's eyes she add softly "I will be fine." Nuzzling her daughter once more, she turned and followed after Durroon, heading towards where Tingara stood. Reaching the stallion and the group of mares about him, she dipped her head respectfully. "Greetings, Tingara." she said quietly "I am sorry for my lack of politeness. I am Taworri, named for the evening breeze." Standing there, the moon filly gazed at the black stalliion, trusting him finally as, here in the peaceful valley, she could think of him as the kind stallion who had guarded them for Nevada once, so long ago, rather than the stallion who had attacked and maimed Nevada. She knew of the emnity between the two, had known the battle was inevitable. And Tingara had not fought to kill Nevada, for that she was grateful. But inspite of her faith in the black, and her reassurance that they were safe, there was still a gleam of sadness in the sweet mare's eyes as she waited for the stallion to reply.
--------------------
Quietly, the chesntut and white pinto continued to graze, ears flickering to catch the conversation around her. Amused by Crayola's obvious enthousiasm, her thoughts were quickly turned once again to her own upcoming foal as the mare rambled on about spotted foals and non-spotted ones. Wirruna didn't care what her foal looked like, as long as it was healthy. Any day now, and finally she woudl meet the creature that had been growing inside of her these past eleven months.
----------------------
Luz started as the black stallion spoke her name. She had not known he knew it, but of course Durroon would have told him. She was not encouraged to go over to him though, despite his gentle nicker. It would take more than words to get Luz to trust a stallion again.
-----------------
Jannali had not moved from her position beside Kala. She was slowly resigning her self to the fact that this was her new life, for now. The black king was not Nevada, he would never hold that same alluring mystique as the grey did for her, but she would make the best of her time here. Sighing softly, she dropped her head to graze. Kala, noticing her half-sister's discontent, rested her head softly on the blue roan's withers. Gently, she began to groom her along her neck. "Do not fret, sister," she said "For we are still together. And do you really think Nevada will forget his mares? He will be back, and then you can make your choice. Just be patient."
|
|
|
|
Post by Corowa on May 25, 2009 23:11:41 GMT
Myrrina
Hide prickling uncomfortably, Myrrina stepped swiftly from Tingara. She sensed his sorrow, felt it burn feverish in her blood so it seemed as if every nerve tingled with this unspoken dread. The mare sought to reassure him, for she was not certain whether she was strong enough to stand both his sadness and her own. Aware it was her own foolishness, which drove such resentment, Myrrina could do no more than comfort him with the soft touch of her nose, her wise and gentle words. “Do not be so anxious my mate. Nevada is strong, and his anger toward you will surely keep him alive. For you stole his mares and daughters, and he is too proud a stallion to forget them.”
Filled with this terrible shame, Myrrina turned and drifted slowly from his side. Tingara had the companionship of his other mares, these thrilling new fillies and strangely beautiful mares. For Myrrina knew it would never be the same between them, not when she had run with another, had felt the wild excitement of the winter storm. She should never have left him; she could see such wisdom now. Yet she had been filled with all the foolishness of loneliness, and a longing borne of madness. Coming to a standstill further down the grassy slope where only the fillies and her white son played, Myrrina dropped her head to graze.
Werrilah
“When I run with as much swiftness as you, when the very winds call my name, then I will come for you and you shall be mine,” Werrilah playfully replied. For though the colt sensed Boorana led him on a teasing dance, he gladly followed. Aware of no more than this beautiful brown filly, Werrilah did not see the other fillies come nearer. Suddenly those wildly galloping fillies surrounded the colt, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Then that same grey filly joined his game, and Werrilah tossed his head and snorted at her gentle mocking. Lashing out with both heels at the grey, Boorana went up on her hind legs, sprang away at a hard gallop towards the grazing mob of mares. Tossing up his head, Werrilah neighed in answer to that enticing call, a stallion’s neigh, strong and sure. Then, unable to stand still for any longer, Werrilah bounded after the elusive brown filly, nimbly weaving a path through the mares in pursuit of Boorana.
Durroon
Durroon grazed quietly, where the flat sloped down to a narrow creek, and the snowgrass grew in clumps sheltered by scrubby saplings. Nostrils widening, she nervously raised her head when a queerly marked mare of Tingara’s, approached. Aware it was not uncommon for mares to threaten newcomers with bites and kicks, Durroon took a step back. Ears twitching uncertainly, she stood watching the mare a moment. However, when the mare gently touched her withers in greeting, Durroon blew noisily through her nostrils, sensing this mare had no interest in quarrelling.
“I am Durroon, named for the night heron,” she answered steadily. “No, I have not yet chosen a name; for I am not certain whether it is a colt or filly I carry. However, for all its kicking and moving about, I am worried it is a colt as foolish and stubborn as its sire.” When Crayola spoke of her mate, the queerest tingling went through Durroon. Standing only half-listening, the mare’s thoughts were instead filled with that grey stallion, proud and victorious as he had been before Tingara and the fight in the snowgrass glade. “Surely you know it was from Nevada I was taken, those other mares and fillies too,” Durroon anxiously went on. “The bush has been alive with tales of his defeat, have you not heard?”
Wondering if perhaps this mare was not so wise as she had thought, Durroon spoke of their foals instead. “What of you?” she asked curiously. “Have you chosen a name for your own foal? For with a sire such as Tingara, it will surely be inheritor of both swiftness and cunning.” Surrounded by strange mares such as she was, Durroon was glad for the companionship of this kind and gentle mare. Pleased, she swung her haunches about so she stood more closely to Crayola. Then reaching over, she nipped her lightly and then began to nibble purposefully on her mane, moving her way down the white and brown blotched shoulder, snorting softly as she went. “We should be friends you and I,” she said rather shyly. “For I do not know many of Tingara’s mares or his fine daughters, and perhaps you could tell me of them?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Ehetere on May 26, 2009 10:49:03 GMT
Muyan Post:
Muyan was still unsettled and restless. She started pacing in circles; needing to move around to keep panic at bay. Usually she was such a level headed horse, but she used to be able to disappear from danger to some unknown valley. Now she was with Tingara and his herd, she couldn’t exactly just run off with out any warning. It was rude and dishonest.
Tingara had moved away to speak to some of the other various mares he had accumulated. All of a sudden, Muyan felt a kick in her side. She looked around for the culprit. Finding no one; she looked down at her side only to see something small and hoof shaped indent against her skin before disappearing again. Muyan was so astonished that she stood starting blankly at the spot where the tiny hoof had been for several minutes. The urge to get away from the herd and be alone was getting stronger and stronger by the minute, and she knew that perhaps she would be foaling soon. Mares regularly left the herd to foal… So she looked around again; to see Tingara preoccupied still. She has still not really gotten to know any of the other mares in the herd yet, save for friendly Crayola, so none would miss her. Tingara might, but he was busy here and surely he knew that she was going to foal… So silently Muyan slipped back towards the trees and out of the shining sunlight. Her coat blended in with the dappled light well, and soon she was invisible; a shadow among the branches and leaves moving steadily away to find a secluded glade…
Kirrkie Post:
Kirrkie threw her head up in alarm at the black stallion approached her and Luz. Despite his kind words, Kirrkie still did not trust him; or any stallion really now. Words meant nothing; if one did not truly mean them and then back them up with actions. Her mother had promised to protect her. At this she had failed miserably. Her father had vowed to protect her mother as well, and yet it was he who had led almost the entire herd into the man’s traps.
She snorted disapprovingly; their first meeting certainly had been a bad one. A great amount of time would have to pass before the horrific images of the fight between the balck and white would even begin to fade from her mind. Luz too was rather unimpressed by the black’s speech it seemed and Kirrkie was happy about this. She dropped her head to graze in a clear message of dismissal, and whispered to Luz while pretending to chew, “We will leave tonight. I however need to have my foal; so perhaps we could meet where we first touched noses; at the Bogong where the white stallion Nevada was beaten by the black brute who stands before us. Perhaps he needs help or comfort in some way.” Kirrkie really did take a mouthful of grass this time; suddenly ravenously hungry. When she had finished this she added, “Unless of course you want to stay with this stallion?” |
|
|
|
Post by tingara on May 29, 2009 9:50:55 GMT
Filled with a new and deep sadness, Tingara dropped his head. His victory had become a hollow one. Somehow that one fight that had been looming for so long had distanced the King from the horses around him. He was injured and dejected, he could not fix it while he was in the state he was. He could not show the new mares why they should stay with him, that he was a stallion who was full of life and one who loved nothing more than to frolic with his mares. The black stallion snorted, before realising he could stand no more.
His legs were shaking from the effort and his front legs were slightly lame. As he lowered himself he watched Muyan leave heavy with foal, it was something Tingara had seen many times before and he did nothing to object to it. Instead he rolled onto one of his sides and lay on the soft snowgrass of the Gap. The breeze gently blowing across the plateau enticed the King to join it in its waving dance, to soar through the Cascades and over the top of Kosciusko itself. At last he surrendered to himself to sleep.
It was a deep sleep that the black King fell into, some could be forgiven to think that he had died. Exhaustion had pushed him to the brink of darkness. As he slept he dreamt, Tingara dreamt of a white stallion lurking in the shadows as he danced with his mate Myrrina. Eyes watched them forlornly from the twisted snowgums and eerie candlebarks, they were the other mares. It took what seemed like ages but eventually he enticed them all to come and join the merry dance. And, as he led them all, Nevada watched on jealously.
With a start Tingara woke in a cold sweat, his breathing shallow and his legs incredibly stiff and sore. He saw that he was surrounded by horses in the dark of deep night.
|| OoC: Feel free to keep Rping the day, Tingara will just be snoozing. || |
|
|
|
Post by Tiggs on May 29, 2009 13:07:12 GMT
Crayola’s ratty tail wiggled behind her, happy to be talking foals with another mare. “Ooh, a colt will be nice. Good luck for one.” She thought for a moment, ears flickering as she tried remembering something. “Oh yes!” She said, brightening, “Nevada. I’ve seen him once or twice, not too close though. He looks like a handsome one though. Not as handsome as Tingara, though.” She added, looking fondly over her shoulder at her black mate. “I remember the gang-gangs talking now. That’s you, is it? Well, it’s a pity you had to leave him but that’s how the bush works, I suppose.” She was proud of Tingara for beating the white, he had been so worried about Myrrina and now he had her back. He being happy made her happy.
“Oh I’m still thinking about names. Perhaps Durel for a colt, or Iona for a filly. There are so many names, Tingara likes to help me choose usually.” She craned her head to nudge her swelling stomach with his mottled nose. “He or she will be a good colt, Tingara’s always are.” She looked back to Durroon, ears pricked forward. “Oh yes! We will make good friends – I can introduce you to the other mares if you like. They’re quite quiet mostly, I think they’re shy.” She rambled onward, telling Durroon about each of the mares, where Tingara had met them, their sons and daughters and anything else she thought was relevant, which was a lot in Crayola’s case.
Quinja meanwhile was having lots of rambunctious fun, and later, when she was tired out, she moved with the little group until they came across sleeping Tingara. Gasping at the size of him, Quinja sneaked closer, nose extended fully. She sniffed at his shoulder, daringly brushing her nose over and uninjured expance of hide. Squealing, she wheeled and ran back to her sisters and new friends. “He’s so big!” She looked at him, noticing how his barrel chest would make a fun obstacle to jump. “I dare someone to jump over him!” She looked to Castelle, her eyes gleaming. “Go on, I’ll do it if you will.” She urged, tail flagged in excitement.
|
|
|
|
Post by yaruka on May 30, 2009 2:50:00 GMT
When I run with as much swiftness as you, when the very winds call my name, then I will come for you and you shall be mine,” said the white colt.
Boorana had already run off, but hearing the colt's words tossed her reply over her shoulder. "In your dreams," she mocked lightly as she wound her lithe body in and out of the throng of mares. The colt called after her, and there was something in his voice, in his possesive call, that caught Boorana's attention. It was a sure, confident call, the neigh of a prince, yes, but something more. Stopping at the edge of mares she flicked her ears in his direction. Maybe there was something more to this colt than she'd thought. But as she caught sight of him darting after her all thoughts of the future were banished. Kicking up her heels she led the colt on a twisting race about the outskirts of the herd. It was as she reached the peak of the hill overlooking the herd that she had an idea. Eyes glinting she called quietly to Werrilah. "What say you to an adventure in the bush?" Not wainting for an answer, she slipped quietly into the shadows of the snowgums, her soft brown/grew coat blending in seemlessly.
---------------------
Taworri had settled to grazing beside Durroon, concious of her friend's discussion with the appaloosa mare but not volunteering her own opinions unless asked. She hated to seem as though she were butting in. She watched her eldest daughter's antics with amusement and a little concern, for the colt. She hoped the white son of Tingara did not take Boorana's taunts too seriously. A sudden kick to her side caught her notice, shifting her focus from Boorana just in time for the filly to disappear into the brush. A sharp but brief pain shot through her abdomen and Taworri quickly raised her head. It was time she left to give birth to her latest foal, perhaps her last son or daughter of Nevada's. With a soft nudge to Durroon the moon filly slipped off to give birth.
----------------------
Kala, too, was feeling the discomfort that comes with the early stages of giving birth. She too thought it time to leave, and with a reassuring nuzzle to Jannali, she hated leaving her half-sister when she was in such a state though it couldn't be helped. But the blue roan was quick to reassure her, to let her know that she would be fine for now. Jannali's own foal would not be coming for another few days but she well understood the pain Kala was going through at the moment.
The chestnut roan's stomach seemed more swollen than it ever had been when she carried Biangri and Wyralla and Kala wondered at the almost incessant kicking inside of her. It was almost as though her foal had eight legs, not four! Nodding gratefully to Jannali she wandered off. Passing Wyrall Kala nosed the chestnut filly, letting her know that she would be gone but Jannali was there for her should she need anything.
--------------------------
The small chestnut filly was sad to see her mother go off, but knew it was the right thing. It was the way things went. Turning quickly back to her game she noticed that none of the other mare's abdomens were quite as swollen as her roan mother's. But Wyralla attributed this to the fact that none of the other mares were, as of yet, ready to give birth. Quickly reassured, she replied eagerly as Quinja issued her challenge. "I'll give it a go!" she whinnied.
-----------------------
Bindaree's cautious side flared up as Quinja suggested leaping over Tingara's prone body. Flattening her ears in her concern, she looked uphappily at the black stallion's sleeping figure. "Why push it, Quinja" she said. But Wyralla seemed eager,and the blue roan was certian Castelle would be up for the game. Snorting to show her clear displeasure, Bindaree refused to be associated with her sister's latest stunt and wandered over to stand by Biara. The silver grulla was also staying out of this particular game. Nosing the older filly, Biara pondered over what her newest sibling might look like. Would be a colt or a filly? She would soon find out, for Biara's watchful gaze had not missed Taworri's subtle departure to give birth.
----------------
Wirruna.....is still grazing lol. not much to say there.
-----------------------------------
“We will leave tonight. I however need to have my foal; so perhaps we could meet where we first touched noses; at the Bogong where the white stallion Nevada was beaten by the black brute who stands before us. Perhaps he needs help or comfort in some way.” whispered Kirrkie. A shiver of excitement ran through the dark blue roan at her friend's words. She was ready to leave this crowded clearing, to get far away from this black stallion who, in her mind, had shown such violence back in the clearing. She did not wish to return to Nevada, but that at least would better than staying here. As though Kirrkie had read her thoughts, the pinto added Unless you'd rather stay here? The words were like a challenge, but Luz didn't need any persuading to leave. This place and this stallion made her nervous. "I'm game," she said quietly. "I will meet you there tomorrow night, when the moon is at it's peak in the sky and we can play in the moonlight like we did before stallions disrupted our lives." It was silly really, but the lack of moon since she had "joined" Tingara's herd only contributed to her distrust of the black stallion. He was as black as night, and it seemed to her then that he quenched all that would be light. Like the Nevada, the moon, and Kirrkie and herself, mares who danced in the moonlight.
|
|
