Roll With The Wind [Nevada/Open]

[tingara]

For a year now she and her daughter had been wandering alone, not at all overly worried about finding the stallion they belonged to. Through the gnarled snowgum forest the pair moved, leaving no trace that they were there. Not one sound was made by the two brumbies, not one word spoken. They were wary of the potential of man; Dilali had never fully regained her trust in the Bogong after her first foal’s capture here. The grey filly and the queerly coloured mare picked their way through the undergrowth towards where they knew fresh and sweet snowgrass would be waiting for them. The question Dilali kept asking herself reappeared in her mind, would there be others waiting for them too?

News of Nevada’s defeat at the King’s, her brother’s, hooves had reached the brown and white mare’s ears. He had lost everyone to Tingara but no creature she’d asked knew if the great white stallion had indeed lost his life too. Not even the wise grey kangaroos could provide an answer, Nevada’s fait was as uncertain as her own it seemed. With a low whicker Dilali encouraged Mayrah to explore rather than to cling to her side. The mare flicked her bronze forelock out of her eyes and regarded her daughter. Mayrah had grown into a beautiful yearling, one who was built as elegantly as her father but was as slight as her Dam. Already she had the unusually long mane and tail of Nevada and lovely rose grey coat.

Dilali nuzzled the filly before continuing towards the open plateau of Paddy Rush’s Bogong. A mopoke cried ominously from quite close, making both horses shy in fright. The brown and white mare began to grow nervous, her hide prickling in anticipation of something. Shafts of sunlight glittered through the trees, penetrating the silent darkness. Not a sound could be heard since the mopoke’s cry. On the edge of the Bogong Dilali surveyed the eerily quiet flat, her head lifted high and nostrils quivering. Her blue eyes scanned for signs of the battle that she’d heard so much about but could only see the green snowgrass gently swaying in an afternoon breeze.

The last time the mare had been on Paddy Rush’s Bogong it had been abundant with horses. She could almost see her old herd grazing peacefully but alas it was only a vision of the past. Instead the Bogong was all but empty as far as Dilali could see, not one horse was in her line of sight. There were lingering scents of others on the air and one caught her attention in particular, Nevada. The mare’s heart beat grew steadily quicker as excitement and anticipation built up. Though she was still wary, her mind had tricked her in the past. It did cross her mind that it could nothing but the scent of his body that she could smell. That thought quelled her excitement and again the mopoke cried mournfully to the clear alpine sky as the odd coloured mare stepped out onto the Bogong and dropped her head to graze.

[Tiggs]

Travelling with her mother was a double-edged sword. The adventure was exhilarating, but just the two of them became lonely after a while. Mayrah had learned a lot, however, and the rose grey filly loved the adventures she and her mother had in the High Country. In retrospect, they were probably not as exciting as she thought they were, but everything was new to the yearling so what was just another grazing spot for Dilali was a whole new adventure for her daughter.

As they travelled, Mayrah was proud of herself for recognising the land. They were getting near the Bogong! Mayrah was in high spirits this day, and with encouragement from her mother, the roamed within a small radius of her mother, investigating the scrub on either side of her mother’s trail. When they got to the edge of the expansive meadow, Mayrah patiently checked for signs of other brumbies as her mother had taught her before stepping out into the open.

Mayrah knew her mother well, and her growing excitement fostered an unknown source of anticipation in the greying filly. Snuffling around, she suddenly realised why. Her father, her mother’s mate, had passed by here within the last few days! Mayrah was too full of energy to graze with her mother, so she ran rings, bucking and playing by herself. When a white figure – barely distinguishable from the pale sky – stood up on the horizon, Mayrah thought for a moment it was a cloud. Then the figure came limping swiftly down the hill. Nevada! Without thinking, she let out a shrill whinny of excitement and bounded back to her mother’s side.

***

He felt like a fugitive, sneaking around, in his old territory no less. He’d done well to avoid detection for this long. The only stallion he had seen had been Toxic, and any he’d detected by scent alone he had managed to evade. It was unfortunate that he’d had to leave Toxic, but with Durroon stubbornly staying with him, he had no other choice but to leave the other stallion behind. He couldn’t risk the black Arabian getting ideas about stealing his only mare away.

Bunderra seemed to be coping well. Durroon was a wise mare and she managed to eat enough to keep them both well. Nevada was always on edge, however, and his weight was suffering for it. With all the stress of keeping out of other stallions’ way, he was not eating well and his ribs were starting to show. Perhaps he was being a bit overprotective, but he would not make the stupid mistake of tempting another stallion to fight him. The grey stallion still limped, and though it was steadily improving, he could not win a fight on it.

To make matters worse, he was imagining things. That morning, he had smelt no other than Dilali on the wind, her scent accompanied by last year’s filly’s. Leaving Durroon safely tucked away in the bush, he led a convoluted trail before following his nose to the plateau. There were few brumbies out on the Bogong today, for which Nevada was thankful. He closer he got to the scent, the more he was sure it was not his imagination.

At an awkward lope, using his lame leg as much as he was able, he finally came to a rise in the Bogong. Down that hill grazed a white and brown mare, accompanied by a rose grey filly. His nostrils flared and he caught a neigh in his throat. It came out as a soft nicker, and he had to hold himself back to check for other brumbies before he started down the hill toward them. The downward slope of the hill pulled him up a little, but he only hobbled down on three legs before the straight allowed him to put weight on it again.

[tingara]

The more she grazed the more Dilali began to relax. The swaying of the long, yellowing snowgrass in a refreshing breeze made the mare feel calm and happy. She was back in familiar territory with her daughter frolicking amongst the country in which she’d been born. The summer sun was high in the sky and made Dilali’s mane and tail glitter bronze in its light as it danced and swayed in the wind. In her mouth the grass was dry but sweet, the grass of Paddy Rush’s Bogong was almost unmatched anywhere else in the High Country. Still, the mare missed Nevada, the closest stallion she had to a mate. He had protected her when she had needed him, saved her from Garrong but she had not been there when he had needed saving.

Nevada’s fait was unknown to Dilali but she didn’t have the heart to search the Bogong for signs of his body. If he was dead she felt better remembering him as he was, a proud and strong white stallion full of life. Again the mopoke cried making the mare’s hide prickle nervously. Her muscles tensed ready to bolt to the cover of the candlebarks. Mayrah’s whinny caused Dilali’s head to snap up in panic, her eyes looking over the Bogong wildly. She called her daughter to her side before she spotted what had caused the rose grey filly to cry out.

A silver ghost had appeared on the rise before them. Dilali quivered in fear but could not run, she was transfixed. As the ethereal white horse grew closer the mare saw it was limping in a very unghost-like fashion. The ghost horse’s scent was born on the wind to the mare’s flaring nostrils and it was then she knew that it was no ghost. Instantly her body language changed from fear to excitement at the appearance of Nevada. Overjoyed Dilali whinnied in greeting before loping to her mate’s side.

Her eyes widened at the damage her brother had done as she ran her muzzle softly over the scars. ”Nevada, I have missed you so much as has our daughter Mayrah though she does not remember you as I do,” the mare said quietly, nuzzling the grey stallion. She avoided asking of the others for she knew where they were. Taken by Tingara to be his own for that was the way of the bush. ”You look awful, don’t you eat any more?” Dilali asked concerned. She didn’t like being able to see Nevada’s ribs and hips through his skin or his coat so dull.

[Tiggs]

As his scar-marked muzzle came into contact with her pale shoulder, he sighed, his hide prickling. The grey stallion nickered, his joy at being reunited with his prized mare making his anxiety wane. How could his world’s worries bother him at a time like this? With Dilali so close, being able to touch her for the first time in seasons was perhaps the most delightful thing he had ever experienced. It was as if a weight had been lifted, and he could just float in his bliss as if suspended in calm water.

“Oh Dilali.” He nuzzled her shoulder, sniffling along her neck to rest his nose on hers, blowing warm air softly into her nostrils. Compared to him, she was looking utterly divine; not that she didn’t always. He chuckled at her remark. “I’ve been a little preoccupied; eating is the least of my worries*.” He said, gently nibbling her forelock, his lame leg taking as much weight as it was able which but him at a slight lean. “Oh it’s good to see you,” he breathed, “I think if it’s possible, I’ve missed you more than you’ve missed me.”

His malnutrition he could blame on Tingara, but Nevada had matured a lot since that fight. He could not hold a grudge on the King for taking back what was his and more; it was the way of the bush. Nevada had come to terms with the fact that he had lost, but was determined to set right that fact. It was no longer a personal vendetta; it was a matter of natural progression. Once he was at his full strength, instinct would drive him to challenge the strongest stallion in the High Country for the right to hold that title for himself.

“Mayrah is growing into a fine mare, Dilali. She will break many hearts.” He nickered fondly to his estranged daughter, glad to see that she was not anxious in his presence. The rose grey yearling was quite content to nibble at the grass, ears riveted to their conversation. Nevada resumed grooming of Dilali, rubbing his teeth over her withers and spine. Her scent permeated his being, and he drew deep breaths of her dusty pelt. He nickered, voice low and satisfied. “I know I’m not exactly in peak form, but I’m afraid I can’t possibly let you out of my sight. Come with me?” He asked, resting his head over her back.

He had always been infatuated with Dilali. Ever since he had first seen her, he had wanted her for his herd. Back when she had been Aleo’s mare, he could not let the idea of her go when she was so far out of reach. When Aleo disappeared and he was free to take Dilali, he had never fully realised how lucky he had been. Suddenly gripped with that comprehension, he pressed his shoulder closer to her flank, eyes closing as he held her close with his chin on her other side. “I repeatedly fail you,” he said softly, “Yet somehow we always find each other. I love you, please forgive me. Be mine.”

^{*Subtext: Eating is for the weak!}

[tingara]

It was like leaves were being removed from before her eyes. Although Dilali had not felt any urgency to once again run beside the white stallion something had been missing from her life, like she had been walking around in a dream. Now with his muzzle running over her body she was awake once again. she felt sorry for not seeking him out sooner but knew she could not have beared to watch her mate and brother locked in what she could only guess would have been a bloody battle. For the first time in a year she felt content where she was, her wander lust gone.

”Now that I am hear you must know I will be forcing you to eat,” the brown and white mare laughed, placing her head next to Nevada’s. His voice sounded so foreign after not hearing it for so long but it was as soft and assuring as she remembered it being. Dilali ran her nose over the scars again; it was slightly surreal that it had been her brother who had inflicted the harsh black marks on Nevada’s snowy coat. She was still puzzled as to why Tingara and Nevada had fought, the tales of dancing mares and the King’s mate had been dismissed by the mare as fairytales concocted by the gang-gangs.

But she did know that the fight she had missed would not be the last between the white and the black. Nevada would want his mares back and he had always had his eye on the Kingship. Now that Tingara had made the first move the ball was in motion. Dilali dreaded the day that would dawn the next fight, she made up her mind as she snuffled at Nevada’s mane that she would not be there to watch. She would not witness what could be the death of her mate or her brother.

”Mayrah has her father’s looks, I’m not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing,” again the mare laughed but shied away soon after as the mopoke that had cried so mournfully before flew low overhead. Dilali snorted at it, laying her ears flat against her neck. Why did the bird have to be so ominous on an occasion that called for joy?

”I have missed you Nevada but while I wandered alone I learnt something. I learnt that you are my mate. I could not think of myself running with any other, when I try I only picture you beside me,” the mare sighed softly into Nevada’s white mane in answer to his question. Of course she would go with him, in her eyes there was no one else. ”You have not failed me once you foolish colt, circumstance is what failed me but all that has passed and we are here now together even after all that has happened to us, I love you too.”

[Tiggs]

It was a strange concept to have a mare look after him, being so accustomed to being the carer rather than the cared-for. The grey stallion chuckled and nosed her perfectly round chest. “Well it’s a good job you’re here then.” He muttered, turning to stand beside her and rest his head against hers. “Mayrah inherited all of her mother’s good points.” He said, proudly brushing his mare’s cheek.

When she started her response with ‘I missed you but…’, Nevada steeled himself for the worst. Why would a prime mare like Dilali want to waste away in his meagre company? He shouldn’t have asked, it might only make her guilty. And then she continued, and that weight lifted from his burdened shoulders and he could breath freely again.

“Truly, you will stay with me? Oh Dilali, I love you. You are my pride and joy, my perfect mate.” He nuzzled and groomed her, enthusiastic in his excitement. “I will keep you safe this time, I promise. I will be strong soon, and no stallion or man will separate you from me.”

He rested his muzzle on hers, content in the bliss of her company. “I suppose I should tell you, I am not entirely alone. Durroon is with me, with our colt, Bunderra. You must know by now where the rest of my herd has gone.” He added wryly, with only a hint of bitterness. “I have missed the crowd, at least now I have the four of you to keep me company.” He dropped his head and pulled up some grass. Chewing it, he said, “See, I’m feeling better already.”

[tingara]

Solemnly Dilali let her light eyes wander over the black blemishes upon Nevada’s coat as he spoke. They were stark reminders of a King whose anger was rare but fierce. The brown and white mare had never before witnessed her brother’s wrath and was glad that she had yet to. ”Of course I will stay with you. I will be beside you until my last breath,” she answered quietly. If she could of Dilali would have flushed bright red. She felt her face burn with embarrassment at being called the perfect mate.

”No,” the mare whispered softly, ”I am far from it. I did not seek you out even when the danger had subsided. I was not there to stop you from being a fool, whatever reason I could have provided you was lost to the wind. I was not there to chide you for almost being killed then to nurse you back to health in your darkest hours.” Her voice faltered as she choked back the shame she felt. The mare’s head was lowered as she spoke and she did not look at Nevada.

”If I had of been beside you maybe the Bogong would be alive with life now,” Dilali sighed gravely, lifting her gaze up slightly. The mare extended her brown muzzle slowly to Nevada, savouring the feeling as they touched. She would not be surprised if she was chased away though she would very much like to see Durroon again. At the Grey stallion’s mention of her she perked up slightly with a small smile. Dilali had always liked the wise old smoky grulla mare.

[Corowa]

In the grey light of dawn, the brumby mare grazed in the fringe of snowgums. As the mare grazed her way from the shelter of the trees, the dark shape on the ground near her, stirred, lifted its head and looked sleepily around. Bunderra stretched his forelegs out in front of him, and stood rather unsteadily, while Durroon gave a low, grunting nicker. When Nevada had left them alone in a fringe of low heath and ti-tree, Durroon had led the queerly marked foal towards the thick bush, north-east of Paddy Rush’s Bogong. The grass here was good, and there was shelter in the snowgum glades, so Durroon and her foal could graze and play on the wide snowgrass flats without fear of man.

A gust of wind stirred in the leaves of the snowgums, and Durroon stood completely still, nostrils quivering. Bunderra turned to look at her, confused by this sudden stillness. His own nostrils quivered, but he could smell nothing but the strong scent of eucalypt, the freshness of the mountain air. Durroon turned and nipped him, told him to stay close to her side. Then mare and foal melted away into the trees, and Durroon took care to leave no tracks, while Bunderra tried hard to put his hooves where she put hers. She proudly noticed how much bigger and stronger he had become, realised how much he truly had grown when he leapt away at a swift canter and she took a moment to chase after him.

Durroon did not hurry, stopped now and then to snatch mouthfuls of snowgrass, or drink from one of those small bush creeks. Her nostrils quivered, for there was the smell of smoke on the wind, but surely here in the Bogong, the brumbies were too far away to be bothered. Bunderra too stopped to look and to listen, and he gave a worried sort of whinny, as the mare turned to gently nuzzle him. He sought comfort in the warmth of her milk, and she stood quietly, feeling the soft touch of his nose on her flank as he thrust his head under her belly and drank. A great flock of bitterns circled over the snowgrass plain, and Durroon shivered at the wildness of their harsh trumpeting. And beside her, Bunderra shook all over.

The two brumbies climbed up a wide slope, and in the shallow basin of snowgrass over, she found them. In that moment, Durroon was aware of how every nerve tingled with a wild joy, a throbbing in her blood, which stirred a sudden restless excitement within her. Then the mare gave a glad neigh, and cantered away down the slope, so swiftly over the snowgrass, her foal stretching his legs to their fullest beside her. Propping to a standstill, she blew softly through her nostrils in greeting, Bunderra pressed close to her side, nervously watching this mare and her yearling. “Dilali, I have missed you,” Durroon said, giving the mare a gentle nip, turning then to that handsome grey filly. While she curiously extended her nose to the grey, she half-remembered a brown filly, Mayrah, daughter of the beautiful Dilali.

“You have become a fine filly indeed,” she said fondly. “I remember when you were no older than Bunderra here, standing unsteadily on legs you had not quite learned to master.” From where he stood beneath Durroon’s belly, Bunderra stared intently at the grey filly. For a moment, he was breathless with excitement, pleased to have the companionship of another young brumby. Then Durroon gave him a gentle nudge, encouraged him forwards, and Bunderra swung about with a sharp squeal. “Oh hush silly one,” she said, and feeling suddenly foolish, the foal moved out from beneath her. He stretched his nose out to touch the grey filly, every muscle quivering as he realised how alike she seemed to Quirindi. He had missed playing with Quirindi, but now there was this other filly, and he nipped her playfully, rushed off with tail held high, to canter in a wide circle around the mob of brumbies.

[Tiggs]

Nevada shook his head, smiling. “No, no, my love. You are perfect. With beauty and smarts as you have, how could you not? My failings are not your fault, my dear.” He nuzzled her ears and cheek, blowing warm air across her face. “The Bogong will be alive with life before too long, Dilali. Once winter has passed, I will right my mistakes and we shall have the grandest herd in all the High Country.” He pressed his muzzle to her nose, closing his eyes briefly.

His ears were met with a welcome sound then, and he turned his head up, neck held proudly, as Durroon and their son cantered down the slope toward them. He nickered to the old mare as she approached, greeting her with a swift nuzzle and watched while the two mares welcomed each other. The stallion smiled to himself. If he could have any two mares of his previous mob, it would be these. Durroon with her experience and kindness, and Dilali with her beauty and gentleness.

He watched from the corner of his eye as Bunderra met with his half-sister Mayrah, and the filly resigned to play with him. She cantered after him at a dignified pace, but she picked up her heels, arched her neck. Every bit as beautiful as her mother. Nevada smiled as Mayrah circled Bunderra once, then with a cheeky smile, rushed in to nip his rump before pounding away with a playful gait, mane tossing and turning.

Yes, Nevada decided, he had not lost everything. All would be perfect in a short time.