Alone but for the wind, [o]

[Corowa]

The creamy filly grazed belly-high in snowgrass, alone but for the two gang gangs who shrieked and quarrelled in the trees above. Kareela and Illoura had vanished, and wise to the ways of the elusive silver brumbies, Wilgee had not sought them out. Turning northwards, she had travelled up through the rough country of the Crackenback, through the headwaters of the river to the steep rocky spur of the Brindle Bull. Quite a few mobs grazed here, and while these were mostly young colts and fillies, Wilgee had still glimpsed a pale roan stallion and his shadowy mares through the leaves of the snowgums.

Lifting her head from her grazing, her ears twitched and she stared about, eyes wide with curiosity. Pale mane and tail lifted by the light wind, the filly stood listening to the playful teasing of the gang gangs nesting in the rough limbs of the stringybarks. Standing quietly in shafts of sunlight slanting through the branches of the snowgums, Wilgee looked up when a currawong stirred with its joyful warble. Purposefully, the she grazed her way downwards, to where the timber of the lower Brindle Bull, grew scrubby.

Wilgee leapt sharply to one side when several gumnuts bounced off her rump. From where they nested, the two gang gangs mocked the nervous young filly, and Wilgee herself, snorted with amusement. Bounding away at a lively canter, the filly stopped only when the bush thickened and great ribbons of bark hung from the trunks of the eucalypts. There was no other sound but the rustling of leaves gently stirred by the wind, and Wilgee wondered when it was Illoura and perhaps even Kareela, would return. She missed the companionship of other young horses, and found herself filled with longing, drawn with this trembling excitement to the colts and fillies who ran the Brindle Bull.

OOC: This takes place when Kareela and Illoura are still away so it’s just Wilgee by herself. Also, I’m aware I have posts due elsewhere but she’s such a fun character.

[Ehetere]

Illoura trotted rather aimlessly through the Bull’s many crevices and valleys in search of her friend Wilgee. Having caught sight of Wilgee’s fresh tracks a couple of days ago; and knew that she was in the area. She had been wishing to play and frolic with the strangely coloured almost silver filly for quite some time now; the sooty palomino colt following her had proved to be no fun at all. He wouldn’t even run after her if she disappeared, just kept on wandering slowly in hope of rediscovering her. So Illoura had quickly given up her games in exchange for a foul mood and a sharp tongue. What was the point of life if you weren’t going to enjoy it?

The screeching of gang gangs filled the air, and instinctively Illoura melted away into the surrounding scrub. When she was sure no danger was looming out of the shadows, she stepped forward again and ahead with a more determined pace. For while scenting the breath of wind for any signs of danger, Wilgee’s familiar smell had drifted to her nostrils.

Pace increasing to a canter, Illoura dodged through the trunks as nimbly as a shaft of sunlight; flitting here, flitting there; insubstantial and mysterious. She cared not now if Thalera followed, all she truly wised for was Wilgee’s companionship and friendship. She would run the high country with her; chase the wind and sun across the sky. Illoura let out a longing, throbbing neigh to her missing companion; not caring who heard of it. She hadn’t properly run for days; and had stores of pent up energy to use.

There; between the trees! Another creamy coat shone bright through the trees. Illoura whinnied for joy and raced forward to greet her lost friend; dancing and prancing. She was so over-joyed at seeing Wilgee again that she almost forgot about the sooty palomino following behind her… always following… She was also careless enough to forget the threat of other brumbies that may have heard her noise. Silver brumbies were always a prize, and she was one of the most beautiful fillies she knew, of any silver horses around. Wilgee too was desirable, and by calling out as she had; she was putting them both at risk.

[Tiggs]

This was frustrating. He had started by leading, and then the creamy had taken over. Of course, he had no idea where he was going, but he wouldn't admit to that. He'd been forced to follow, unwilling to let the filly out of his sight. He might be young, but that was no excuse to let a good opportunity pass him by. Illoura was, well, alluring. She was silver, and worth a lot of prestige for a budding stallion like himself. If only he could convince her not to run off all the times.

Just as he was cursing the bush and all its flora and fauna, Illoura suddenly sped off. He was already lagging behind, and only her excited call gave him a vague direction to take. Grumbling under his breath, he upped his pace, clumsily making his way through the trees. A fallen branch surprised him, and he barely managed to lift his legs in time to clear it. This was ridiculous! The filly better appreciate the effort he was putting into following after her.

Finally, he spotted her again, but who was she with? Another mare! Composing himself, Thalera high-stepped out of the trees, nickering to the golden filly. What luck, a creamy and a golden. The second bore a little resemblance to his mother in colour, except for the darkening legs and dorsal stripe. He stared as he appreciated her colour. If he could convince these two to run with him, they would make a fabulous sight. Each of them with their pale manes and varying shades of golden coat.

The colt was breathless from his run and the excitement of seeing the new mare that he was slow to introduce himself. “I am Thalera – named for strength.” He arched his neck, holding his adolescent body proudly. His soot-streaked tail flagged behind him, and he was impatient to greet the second mare with a touch. Hopefully she would be more cooperative than illusive Illoura.

[Corowa]

From further up the slope, the gang gangs suddenly quietened, and Wilgee grew still. Raising her head nervously, the creamy filly melted back into cover of the bush. Bars of sunlight turned her coat golden, mane and tail glistening silver, for hers was a colour much harder to hide, and only in the snow could she be truly invisible. Peering through the rough narrow trunks of the stringybarks, Wilgee’s ears strained, listening for the faintest sound of movement. Then a mare’s neigh rang out, and she recognised it as Illoura, for once more had the silver filly returned. There was the drumming of galloping hooves, and Illoura burst into view, hurtling down the snowgrass slope towards her. Though Wilgee greeted her affectionately enough, she flattened her ears and shied nervously away when a stallion’s lingering scent reached her nostrils. Hide prickling uncomfortably; she wondered what trouble the foolish filly had stirred.

Those two nesting gang gangs shrieked a warning, and with a toss of her head, Wilgee backed hastily away. From the trees stepped a dark golden colt, and Wilgee stiffened, heart pounding in her chest. With a graceful, swinging stride, the young stallion trotted towards them, and the filly knew he had been drawn by Illoura’s alluring call. Wilgee turned sharply to the silver filly, striking out swiftly with one slender foreleg. His was the scent she had smelt on Illoura, and Wilgee’s nostrils curled. Undoubtedly, the filly had coaxed him on a wild dance through the bush, for she could smell his excitement mingled with the sourness of sweat.

“I am Wilgee,” she answered softly, for she was intrigued by this fine young colt. He was a rather striking colour, and he held himself proudly. However, even the filly’s interest in the colt, was not enough to dissuade her anger. Swinging about, ears flattened with displeasure, Wilgee was furious Illoura had been so daring as to lead this stallion to her. “You are a foolish one indeed,” she snapped. “I had thought the silver brumbies wiser than this, for even Thowra had more sense than to lead those who would capture him, back to his herd.” For while this young colt posed no threat, Wilgee worried Illoura would be stolen from her. Many of the stallions, who ran the Cascades, would seek to claim the prize of a beautiful silver filly. Even Illoura, inheritor of all Thowra’s swiftness and cunning, could not match the strength of a stallion in his prime, and Wilgee knew a filly such as Illoura, could not live without the very freedom of the winds.

[Ehetere]

Illoura let out a shocked cry when Wilgee kicked out at her. What sort of a reception was that? “You are a foolish one indeed. I had thought the silver brumbies were wiser than this, for even Thowra had more sense than to lead those who would capture him, back to his herd,” she exclaimed angrily. Illoura snorted in anger; how could Wilgee be so cruel as to call her foolish? “There are only three - two - of us, now that Kareela has left! Barely enough to constitute a band; let alone a herd,” argued Illoura, rather shocked at gentle Wilgee’s rather violent reaction to her arrival, “Besides; I brought him back with me as a friend for us to play with!” It then occurred to her that Wilgee may actually have been concerned for her welfare.

“Have you not been listening to the whispers of the bush lately? I’m sure even those two gang-gangs up there could tell you enough so that you would not fear for me in the current situation. Very few stallions have the speed, strength, skill or cunning to hold us; and those that might have been to preoccupied recently with beating each other up!” proclaimed Illoura, tossing her head, “Silver horses, whether we be descendants of Thowra or not, need to stick together! Thalera here is barely a colt, and from what he has told me, he has been in the clutches of man until recently. In the same way that stallions hunt us for our coats; they would surely hunt him if they ever spotted him. I could not just leave him up there out in the open like he was! You would have thought that he had no bush sense at all!”

Illoura had a habit of calling any creamy horse silver; for in her mind they all shared the silver manes and tails that had them labelled as silver in the first place, so why not all call them the same as well. It was logic; of a kind. She also had another nasty habit of being wise when she wanted to. Illoura was no fool, no matter what Wilgee said. Immature and reckless maybe, but not foolish.

[Tiggs]

For a moment, she looked interested, then her expression darkened and she turned on Illoura. Thalera had taken an eager step forward, but paused to watch the exchange between the two. It seemed Wilgee was concerned for her freedom – a confusing notion. Why wouldn’t she want to be owned by a stallion? She had a lovely-coloured coat, and she would make wonderful foals for him. Their blood mixed together would surely create a spectacular foal.

He couldn’t understand why she was so stressed about it all, she should be thankful Illoura had brought him. He was, after all, a fine specimen. At least Illoura was defending her choice, though he wasn’t keen on how she described him. Barely a colt? He huffed. He was old enough to sire foals, that excluded him form the ‘colt’ title, surely? It was true, men would hunt him for his coat, but Thalera had no intention of latting that happen while he had two palomino fillies in his possession.

He snorted and stepped up to Illoura, shooting her a glare. “I have enough bush sense, thank you.” Whatever that was, he probably had it. “Do not be so dismissive, Wilgee. Illoura led such a convoluted path that no other brumby could follow it. I might be a stallion, but I mean you no harm. I want what any stallion wants: your company.” And foals, but he had a sneaking suspicion that might scare her off.

[Corowa]

Wilgee was maddened by the silver filly, proud and spirited Illoura who had no more sense than this foolish colt she’d run with. “You think yourself elusive as the winds Illoura, but I worry you take your teasing too far. Not all stallions are gentle as Thalera, and for all your spirit and cunning, without your swiftness you would be held easily as a brumby in a trap. Listen to me Illoura, for I know what it is like to be mastered by a will stronger than mine. Swiftness alone is not enough, and so I tell you beware Illoura, for you are a silver filly and to be hunted is your inheritance, much as my own.”

Wilgee felt the sweat break out on her creamy hide, and longed suddenly for the gentle peace of the bush, where there was no sound but the whisper of the wind in the leaves of the snowgums. Shaking at the ugliness of those half-remembered memories, the creamy filly moved further into the cover of the trees. When a ribbon of bark brushed her flank, the filly started suddenly forwards, for in that moment, it seemed the harsh touch of the spur she’d felt.

Thalera’s soft snort quietened her, and though her ears still flicked nervously back and forth, she made no move to vanish into that rough timber, where another brumby might not so easily find her. “Young colt you have much to learn,” Wilgee answered sourly. “If you are not so bush wise as to be captured, how was it you alone could track a filly so cunning as Illoura? Perhaps she is not so cunning as you thought, and perhaps you are not the only colt to have answered her call.” Torn with longing to go with Illoura, and yet anger at her friend for having left her alone for so many days, Wilgee turned swiftly to the colt. “You are no stallion,” the filly said with a toss of her head, “You are a colt, and a foolish one at that.”

[Ehetere]

Illoura quieted slightly at Wilgee’s words. How could any stallion be strong enough to hold the spirited filly? This thought disturbed Illoura greatly. She had never encountered a truly cruel stallion; they all tried to woo her or ineffectively drive her. None of them used any of their strength on her in fear of scarring her off. But what if a stallion really was ruthless enough to simply force her to come with him?

Illoura hung her head in shame; never before even bothering to ask about Wilgee’s past. She had indeed been foolish to believe that no horse would ever be able to tame her; but until now, where was the evidence to suggest that? No other horse had consciously tried to hurt her, save for the occasional jealous mare or filly. Perhaps her past was the reason for Wilgee’s caution. Illoura had probably had a fairly idyllic history in comparison, apart from losing her sister to the men.

All the same; it did seem to Illoura that Wilgee’s foul temper was the main cause of her sudden outburst and her continued mean spirited words. “If you wished to be left alone with no one to yell at but the wind Wilgee; you had but to politely ask,” huffed Illoura, for although Wilgee’s anger was understandable, she could at least be reasonable about it. Why oh why did other horses have to be so complicated about their emotions? "I did not wish truly to stay away for so long Wilgee; but time seemed warped and I lost track of it. It was indeed wisdom for two hunted fillies to stick together and use both their wits to elude those who would hunt them. I should never have left, for it endangered the both of us and I realize this only now after I have returned. It would be rather petty, don’t you think, to let a lapse in my judgment become between our friendship, don’t you think?”

[Tiggs]

The reunion was all very heart-warming but when was he going to get the attention he deserved? He was a handsome male; these two should be fawning over him, not mocking his intelligence! He huffed and tossed his head, holding his blazed face high. “I’ll have you know, I was captured as a youth,” he said bitterly, “It was hardly my fault my mother was fool enough to get us captured when I was barely a yearling!” He gave a derisive snort; obviously he did not think much of his mother.

“I have grown cunning since then. I escaped the men, did I not? Is that not a testament to my wiles? I followed your friend with skill, not luck or fault on her part. Illoura is a mysterious silver filly, and as a stallion, I wish to hold her.” He might only be two years old, but he was ready to father foals, did that not make him an adult? “You are bitter in your loneliness, Wilgee,” he had picked up that much from Illoura’s guilty reply. “Why don’t you stop fretting and let someone else look after you? I have sharp eyes and ears – I can alert you to danger. You could relax; enjoy the grazing with your friends.” And take that stick out of her rump. She was such a killjoy.

[Corowa]

Wilgee filled with anger. This filly and colt understood nothing of what she had said. Tossing her head, the filly nervously eyed the young stallion, for surefooted and swift as she was; she wondered if he would still follow her. “I will not run in the mob of some colt. You would lose me to the first stallion you fought for you are only young, and can know nothing of what it is to be beaten.” Slowly, Wilgee moved towards the timber at her back, no longer interested in Illoura or the colt. Though she would miss her friendship with the silver filly, she could not forgive her carelessness.

When she felt the touch of leaves over her flanks, Wilgee knew she must leave before Illoura could coax her back. “You can have your filly then stallion,” she said sharply. “She is both proud and foolish, a suitable mate for a stallion such as you.” Furious, the filly sprang suddenly away into the thick bush of candleheath and hop scrub. Nimbly, she darted between the rough trunks of the eucalypts, leaping felled logs, slithering on streamers of bark. This was not a joyful run, teasing the colts here and there like a gadfly. This was a hard gallop through the bush, the filly blindly plunging down the rocky line of ridge.

The tor dropped sharply down to one narrow shelf and then another. Indeed, so precipitous was the slope, Wilgee propped wildly to a stop on the high ledge. For a moment, the filly peered nervously over the edge, backing up hastily when she glimpsed a thin line of bush far below. One ear flicked back towards the way she had come, and she stilled when she heard the gentle swaying of the snowgums, the soft rustle of leaves. Someone had surely followed, and feeling suddenly terribly exposed, Wilgee gathered herself and jumped. There was a sickening jolt when she landed not quite squarely, and she stood, trembling all over. For there was nowhere to go but downwards, down into that deep damp gully of swamp gum and stringybark. Breathless, heart pounding in her chest, the filly gathered herself once more and then leapt out into the air.

Where the slope grew rougher, the filly slid down on her haunches, until there was snowgrass springy underfoot and the shelter of trees above. The low and scrubby snowgums closed around her, and Wilgee drank thirstily from one of those wandering bush creeks, hung over with pimelea and candleheath. The white blossoms of the pimelea scented the air, and a currawong cried out from further down the flat. Hearing the warning in its call, the filly felt the sweat break out behind her ears. For though her legs shook she badly she could barely stand, Wilgee trotted on, hide crawling with fear. Indeed, the filly had never been this far north of the Brindle Bull, and when a shadowy mob of kangaroos hopped on through the trees, she leapt abruptly to one side.