Something to Ponder {open}

[starlingshour]

When The Wise...

Psyche

The sun peeked through the evergreen branches. The rays that did make the journey all the way to the forest floor gave the place a nice warm glow. The air was musty from the wet pine needles that never seem to dry after a good rain falls. The place had a gentle slope to it since it was situated just above a valley on the mountain side.

The needles of the pine cushioned the fall of her petite hooves so she seemed to appear out of nowhere if you hadn't been paying attntion. The crest of her neck arched towards the soft ground beneath her. The sun sparkled off of her pearl mane and tail while her bodice was a black void to the light.

The filly's eyes stared at the world as if it were a master's painting and she was the critic. And what did the critic find? She found that the world was beautiful yet ugly, silent yet unbearably noisy, peaceful yet always warring. How can one thing, one place, one frame of time be so exaustingly complex and wonderful all at once. The mystery of it all intreaged her, it made her think beyond the little box that so many get trapped inside.

Psyche was content in being in solitude. It was a place to think and tudy this immense world, to learn its secrets and to try and predict the unpredictable. Especially at this time of the day, when the sun is high. Insted of producing the warmth that all needs to live it seems to suck away all life. Which is odd all considered since the moon gives strength and courage, yet the moon's light is only reflected off of the sun. This is a concept that will be mind boggling to the poor filly for quite some time. She will dwell on this fact until she just learns to accept the world as it is.

How dearly Psyche wanted to just lie down on the soft needles but her survival instinct forbid her to do as she wished. At her weakest she would be even weaker on the ground without the use of her flight instinct. An exastperated breathe of air flew from her nostrils warming the air around her even more.

Become Wiser...

[{ Opal }]

meet the SNAKE


Another figure lurked in the shadows of the woods; it was an old grey stallion, staring desolately into space. He was covered in numerous scars that flecked and marred his white coat, which was quite unkempt, being dusty and caked with mud from a rainstorm the night before. But if you looked into his unseeing eyes, that sight would strike you the most. For Gurnmil was blind, his eyeballs cloudy and frosted white, as they had been since birth.

The sunlight felt good on the old stallion's back, and combined with the half-hearted shadows created by the trees, it left Gurnmil very comfortable. But, unfortunately, the fresh spring air and chattering birds made no impact on his bad mood. For he was pondering over his situation, which was less than formidable; for years Gurnmil had tried to gather mares for his herd, but to no avail. Stealing was the only option, and if he managed to snatch away a mare, she soon slipped away herself- no mare in her right mind would run with a blind and elderly stallion. But it wasn't just that, for Gurnmil could hardly keep possession of a herd, as it was all too easy for some other stallion to come by and force submission down his throat.

Gurnmil burned with resentment at the position he was in. His whole life had been a worthless trial; no-one had ever taken him seriously, and after many long, harsh years, Gurnmil had developed into a deceitful and savage being. No, he was not "evil" in the sense of the word. He was simply willing to do whatever it took to get himself into a better place; he could kill, he could harm, he could haunt, and was unafraid to do so. He also had to admit that doing these little mischiefs made his own life a bit more bearable; it was cruel, but it was fact.

Gurnmil's mind flicked to Baragoola, the mare he had tried to steal, and had failed at doing so. If he could only get one foal out of her. A heir. His offspring. Someone to remember him by, if nothing else. Even now, Gurnmil's raven accomplice was tracking the mare and her stallion down; through the bird, he would ask Baragoola again if she would join him. He wasn't sure what would happen if she said no, which she most certainly would say...

And so, this was how Gurnmil's exceptional hearing (his other senses were magnified by his loss of vision) missed the sound of approaching hooves. He was jolted from his dark brooding only when the young mare has pranced within kicking range, and as you can imagine, in Gurnmil's surprise he was inclined to fling out a foreleg. But instead the grey stallion simply lurched backwards, flinging up his head with nostrils flaring. Gurnmil's body tensed on instinct as he imagined the worst scenario: a raging stallion two feet away. But Gurnmil noticed that the brumby's footsteps were light, and after testing the air, he recognized the soft scent of a mare. Now the grey's ears flicked back in even greater shock; how in the world did a mare stumble across him? Luck was not one of his virtues. Gurnmil took in another draught of air, and realized that this mare was alone. Being blind, he had no clue that this mare was also a coveted moon filly, but he acted so blown away one might of thought he had sight.

[starlingshour]

There is Much to Learn...

Psyche

A shadow that had been still just a moment before flung backwards. It seemed to flail about to the filly. Her head came up just to see what had just happened. When she looked upon the stallion she could tell by his general conformation that he was elderly, but what suprised her the most was his apparent loss of vision. White clouds seemed to float across his corneas making him blind as a bat.

Psyche steadied her position. Her head was high but not overly high and from appearance she would seem relaxed and at ease with her surroundings. On the inside however, she was already lost in thought, broodin over possible causes that this stallion could have lost his sight and scolding herself for not noticing him earlier.

The silver forelock that attachd at her poll fell down her forehead to lightly touch the white star there. Her head was turned so that she could rest her gaze upon the elderly stud.

Hello my elder. I am sorry I have startled you, please do not be frightened by my presence.

Psyche's voice was calm and steady. If you were to describe it you would say she sounded like a female leader with the voice of a alto. After speaking the filly dipped her head to him out of respect, even though she knew he could not have seen her. The gaze in which she looked upon him was one of respect for the long life of her elder and of the wisdom which he must have attained. Psyche perked up at the thought of learning more though she was still in a respectful attitude.

This moon filly was quite a wonder for her age and experience. She had wisdom beyond her years though she was sure she did not inherit this trait from her giddy mother. Her mother was still in the herd in which she had grown up and Psyche had no regrets of leaving her. The stallion that possed that heard was not one she would have liked to have a family with. What a snob he was!

When she had bowed Psyche had noticed that both of them had disturbed the soft blanket of pine needles on which she had tread. There was rich soil showing now. Any plant would have been quite happy if its home would have been within these woods. And so she pondered all of this while looking at the grey stud before her. She had better introduce herself.

Others call me Psyche my elder. Since I assume you cannot see due to the clouds that shadow your eyes I will describe myself to you so you may see me with your sense of hearing and sense of smell. My coat is dark almost the black that is what you see. My mane and tail are quite the opposite and are a pearly white. I have whites on all of my legs and a diomond star on my brow. I hope this aids you my elder.

Psyche felt as though she had done a decent job with explaining her appearance to this stallion and she hoped he would like her appearance in his mind eye. Though it didn't matter if he liked her or not, she could easily run if she thought the time was right.

From an Elder.

[{ Opal }]

Upon instant Gurnmil relaxed, his muscles letting go of their strain, his limbs becoming flexible and movable once more. Every bit of it he forced upon himself; getting all jumpy may as well scare the mare away, so he had to appear calm, if nothing else. Gurnmil's ears pricked as he heard the brumby's voice. Voices were very individual to him, as were scents, as he had nothing else to identify someone by. "Hello, my elder. I am sorry I have startled you, please do not be frightened by my presence." Gurnmil's head jerked up a bit in surprise. Elder? Was that what he was called these days? His emotions were flitting between disgust and approval. On one hand, the mare didn't seem afraid of him, and on the other hand, being called an elder was not a good start if you wanted someone for your herd. Gurnmil's head tilted to one side thoughtfully. He was a bit old for her, a mere two-year-old, almost still a filly. But age had little relevance in the game he was playing; he needed mares, or just a mare, and by now Gurnmil had little opinion in the specifics.

Gurnmil snapped back to reality. He needed to know all he could about this mare, so he stretched out his neck to breath in her scent. Leaning back again, Gurnmil contemplated the subtle cues which he could detect through scent, hearing, and logic. The mare had an exotic tang about her; something outlandish, perhaps. Where did she come from? Gurnmil also supposed her as a very thoughtful mare, though he couldn't know for sure. But his pondering was interrupted as the mare spoke again, now with information he found quite interesting. "Others call me Psyche, my elder. Since I assume you cannot see due to the clouds that shadow your eyes... Gurnmil stifled a snort of laughter. ...I will describe myself to you so you may see me with your sense of hearing and sense of smell. My coat is dark almost the black that is what you see. My mane and tail are quite the opposite and are a pearly white. I have whites on all of my legs and a diamond star on my brow. I hope this aids you my elder." Wow! What consideration! These were the thoughts that were now flitting through Gurnmil's mind. He was quite taken aback, for he couldn't recall any circumstance when someone bothered to take the place of his eyes; he found it quite nice, actually. But even more striking than that was what the mare had just explained; brown, almost black, with white. The description of a moon filly, those enchanted creatures guarded by the sun stallions! Gurnmil's expression instantly turned alert, his ears thrown forward, blind eyes searching.

Feeling it now time to introduce himself in the formal way, Gurnmil said in his husky voice, "Greetings, Psyche. I am..." He hesitated. Horses tended to shy away from his name, for its meaning. But, he had no fake name in mind, and mares loved the truth anyways. "Gurnmil. It means 'snake.'" Well, it was out. Gurnmil did not look embarrassed by it in the least, and lifted his head with dignity. Chances were, Psyche wouldn't mind; she didn't seem one to be easily scared.

[starlingshour]

A Name is....

Psyche

A delighted expression seemed to come across the stallion's features as she told him her color. It was hard for her to understand his obvious excitment though, color meant nothing to her. The horse could be he color of purple for all she would care for Psyche looked for the rainbow of personalities hidden beneath a horse's outer shell. Were they the type to avoid or a prospect of a future friend?

Greetings Psyche, I am..

The stud's voice was filled with what seemed like dread of what was to come and fear of what might happen. What a curious behavior, Psyche thought and almost immediately she was thrown into her mess of a mind trying to figure out the reason for this unlikley behavior, but just as she was about to explore deeper into her thoughts she was pulled by to reality by his voice.

...Gurnmil. It means snake.

He seemed to fear that she would be rash over a single word. A name is nothing to judge someone by for thir names are given to them at birth and likely do not resemble them in their adult age. But what if this name did resemble him? The thought scanned her mind and the first thing that belonged with the word snake was betrayal. Psyche had nothing to fear for she had nothing to keep hidden. The second word was tricks. Tricks were but a mind game and Psyche could easily overcome them. The third word was cunning. What an interesting word! This word could be a senile word or it could be an extremely benificiary trait, especially to a herd stallion.

I must say Gurnmil, you have quite an interesting name. It could mean quite a lot if you resemble that name but I only see one or possibly two of the traits that resemble the snake in you. I hope I never have to see the third.

Her eyes twinkled with a playful smile that he obviously could not see but she was so used to using body language when talking it was hard to just dismiss the behavior. Betrayal was the one she did not see in this stallion. Though she could be wrong.

The muscles in her shoulders rolled as she was getting quite stiff just standing here talking. She longed for a nice lake to plunge her body into and work out all of these cramps that were hidden in her legs.

...A Word.

[{ Opal }]

Gurnmil's name was at first greeted by silence. Whether it was mere thoughtfulness that caused the quiet, or reproach, he had no way of knowing. Tensing up slightly, the grey stallion tested the air, and found no scent of fear. A good sign...

Suddenly hearing Psyche's voice, Gurnmil tilted his head toward her, wanting to hear her reaction. "I must say Gurnmil, you have quite an interesting name. It could mean quite a lot if you resemble that name but I only see one or possibly two of the traits that resemble the snake in you. I hope I never have to see the third..." The old stallion's first emotion was that of mild relief; so she wasn't scared of the name. Then he felt a sense of curiosity, causing his veiled eyes to appear questioning. What were these traits she mentioned? What did she think of him, exactly? Then writing it off as unimportant, Gurnmil turned his attention to the matters at hand. Namely, the way he would get the mare to understand she was in his herd now, for the time being at least.

Gurnmil started by stepping tersely in the mare's direction, which he knew by the sound of her breathing. He poked his muzzle around her face, snuffling in her scent, and intending to know as much about her as possible. After being satisfied with that, Gurnmil redrew, only to suddenly jerk forward in giving Psyche a testy nip on the hindquarters.

Suddenly a raucous shriek ripped through the air. Gurnmil's head flipped up in surprise; he knew that voice. A glossy black raven crashed toward earth, aiming for the old grey's withers. But the speed was too much, and as the bird made contact with hide, he only glanced off the surface to make an undignified landing in the dirt. "Crakk!" Gurnmil roared, whipping around, nostrils dilating, annoyed by how he could not glare precisely at the raven- who was a feathery heap in a lump of dried leaves. "What the heck were you thinking?!" The stallion continued angrily. The raven's head poked up, its grotesque beak tilting to one side innocently. "I was scouting Baragoola, Master!" he said in protest. "And? Gurnmil demanded. "Well, I, uh... I didn't find her, exactly." The stallion's gaze darkened. "So, you lost Baragoola, is that right?" The raven nodded pathetically. Gurnmil sighed gruffly, but let the matter pass, to Crakk's great relief.

Turning to Psyche, Gurnmil began the introduction. "Psyche, this is my little raven friend, Crakk." The stallion glared at his accomplice. "A.K.A, 'The Troublemaker.'" Crakk nodded earnestly at the mare, for no apparent reason.

[starlingshour]

What an Odd..

Psyche

To her eyes the stallion seemed curious about her answer to his name, like it was something unusual that had happened to him. He reached out to her, taking a cautious step forward. Air blew at her face as he began to sense her. 'He's only trying to get a better picture of me in his mind's eye. There is nothing to worry about.' With that thought in mind she held her body stock still and waited for him to back off.

The movement was quick and it barely was caught in her vision. A sharp pain came to her rump. He had nipped her! 'I will not tolerate this.' Psyche had never been one given to violence. If he had merely asked her to move forward she would have done so. Her knees locked beneath her and her hooves dug into the ground.

"Gurnmil, you must know, I do hate physical contact that is completely unnessesary. Simply asking me to move forward would have been more affect than this little stunt has been."

A frown came unto her muzzle and her eyes hardened, annoyed with the stallion's rash actions. Before she could say more on the subject however she heard wings coming toward them. Looking to the sky she seen a Raven dive bombing the two of them. Instinct took over and Psyche did a neat turn on the forehand so taht she was once again facing Gurnmil and, now, the raven.

The raven scraped along Gurnmil's hide and landed roughly in the dirt. Almost at once the two were in furious conversation. Psyche heard all they said but she understood the meaning of none of it. Patiently she waited until she would again be included for what they said now was obviously none of her business.

"Psyche, this is my little raven friend, Crakk. A.K.A- The trouble maker."

When she heard Gurnmil direct the conversation to her she smiled, now aware that body language would come into good use with this other animal. Her eyes became soft and welcoming to the raven, wanting him to have a liking to her since, if what Gurnmil seemed to intend, she would soon be part of his 'friend's' herd.

"Hello Crakk. I'm pleased to meet you."

She dipped her head just the slightes to show that she acknowledged him. She looked down on the raven since he was still in a heap on the ground. Any animal should have recovered his position by now. Psyche shook her head at the obviously clutsy bird. 'How sad.' She thought. The two, horse and bird, were an odd pair to her. Especially since Gurnmil was blind, it seemed unlikely that another animal, another species in fact, would want to follow him. Though she was about to do the same as the bird herself. It was an odd situation really, a mystery yet to be solved.

"Where was it you wanted me to go now Gurnmil? Remember, all you have to do is ask."

A smile full of laughter came upon her pretty face and she winked at the raven while waiting for her lead to answer her question.

..Couple

[{ Opal }]

Gurnmil sensed her annoyance at his slight nip, which was intended as a test. He smelled the vexation on her breath, and recoiled a bit, but at least the young mare was still polite. "Gurnmil, you must know, I do hate physical contact that is completely unnecessary. Simply asking me to move forward would have been more affect than this little stunt has been." Gurnmil flicked his ears back, now trying to hide his amusement at her subtleness. But he didn't want her to think him rude, so he gave her a simple nod in assent, though his blind eyes twinkled.

Gurnmil listened on as Psyche responded to the introduction by greeting Crakk nicely. The raven responded in turn by fluffing up his feathers, turning himself into a lump of black fluff. "Crakk! Nice to meet you, toooo." he said in his queer, shrill voice, as he cocked his head.
Crakk had still not gotten up from the crumpled position, and looked quite comfortable, actually, clueless to the fact that any wandering hunter would gladly take him for lunch. As for liking Psyche, well... Crakk could care less for brumbies or their dealings. Unless, of coarse, it included Gurnmil. For some reason, Crakk was eternally loyal to him, perhaps because the old stallion had gotten him out of some nasty situations. After all, it no secret that Crakk was a total klutz.

Gurnmil's wandering mind was brought to attention by Psyche's flowing voice. "Where was it you wanted me to go now Gurnmil? Remember, all you have to do is ask." A miffed expression flashed across the grey's face. Was that amusement in her tone? With a soft snort, he blew the thoughts out of his mind. "Well, you know, I thought that you could choose the way." Gurnmil said with a casually teasing voice. With that the scarred stallion took a step back, looking a bit arrogant as waited for her to take the lead.

[starlingshour]

A New Role..

Psyche

"Well, I thought you could choose the way."

Wise was Gurnmil's decision. He would let the herd member who could see lead so that he would not hinder them. A moment of thought passed over her. During this time a fly was biting at her rump and she flicked at it with her tail. Making up her mind, Psyche gave a definitive nod then turned her eyes to the ruffled Crakk. A warm smile shown on her maw.

"Crakk, would you do me a favor? To properly lead Gurnmil I'll need to find a place with cover from the sun. Would you be willing to fly up and show me the way?"

Her voice was quite honey coated, trying to win the bird's favor. It seemed lie it was close to the time that the sun would set and the moon would show. A sigh came from her, it would be nice to bask in the moonlight and regain her energy. And the stars would twinkle in her eyes and it would just feel so good. A shiver ran through her hide as she anticipated the rising of the moon.

Taking a step backward after her little day dream Psyche did a turn on her haunches. Now facing the other way she started to 'float' forward. Her movements were soft and she made little noise. The gait she had chosen was a easy jog to start. Once she found the direction in which she was going she would be moving into the rocking motion of a lope. By that time it should be close to night fall so her energy could be wasted.

"Gurnmil, are you following?"

She wanted to make sure she didn't loose him and have to return to collect the blind stallion. Psyche had actually taken a liking to the hore. He was commanding and knowledgable yet it was easy for her to take control. The filly liked the feel of being in charge, it seemed natural though she didn't want the job perminitely. This would be a good experience for her, she could tell. A glow of softness seemed to show in her body language as she moved her jog out to a faster pace.

...Will I Like It?