Snowswept Loner

[yaruka]

"Indeed it would," agreed Thambaroo, nodding to the mare. He pressed on through the snow, down the faint track through the trees. He could tell the mare did not know where she was going by the way she stumbled and pressed close to his side. He tried to make himself a steady and solid prescense for her benefit, though kept going swiftly through the storm. It was no longer possible to do more than walk briskly however, for the ground was littered with rocks and logs that caught the both of them by surprise.
Finally they reached almost flat ground, a miniature valley at the foot of the mountain. Clinging to the rockface Thambaroo passed under the last of the trees and walked under a sheltered cleft of rock. The floor was sandy, like that of a cave and bacon and egg bushes grew around the entrance. "There should be shelter and food enough for two for the winter here" he nickered to Mullara, urging her to make herself at home. All around them the wind howled and moaned but against the side of the mountain the two were sheltered from the worst of the storm. If it snowed they could move farther back into the cleft for it was so low here and so sheltered that snow rarely passed the entrance of Thambaroo's little hide away.

BIC: thanks and ok cool, I couldn't remember exactly what colour she was.

[Corowa]

The hillside dropped steeply into a rocky gorge. Blowing, Mullara blundered downwards over slippery rocks.. Great alpine ash grew round the flank of the mountain in a ghostly forest, and the snowgums that grew much further up the ridge sheltered them from the ever-blowing wind. Here in the gully, rain fell instead of snow, and the snowgrass was springy underfoot. Ears straining, the mare listened to the wind as it rustled in the topmost snowgums. Hungrily, she tore at the seed pods and leaves, felt the cold touch of a snowflake on her back. "For a stallion and his mate," Mullara said, touching her nose to his ears, longing for companionship. "So, O stallion of the snow," the mare mocked, giving the stallion a swift nip. Whirling about she trotted towards a spreading snowgum, and her call carried on the breeze. "For what have the winds named you?"

[yaruka]

"For a stallion and his mate,", Mullara's words echoed in his head long after she said them. Her soft touch on his ear spread warmth throughout his whole body, though his coat was being soaked by the freezing rain that fell endlessly from the sky. For three years he had been alone, since the disastrous roundup that had captured all his mares but one, who had later died giving birth to his foal. Since then he had never been able to make himself gather a new herd. But now this mare was here, their encounter a chance one. Could he force himself to live and love again? He nickered throatily, dipping his head to nuzzle her cheek. It was time he gave up his life of isolation and regret, her words gave him hope that she would stay with him. He too longed for companionship though he hadn't realized it before meeting her.
Thambaroo jumped slightly in shock as she nipped him. Tossing his head he chased after her, bucking playfully, the first sign of lightheartedness he had shown these three long years. "For what have the winds named you?" she called to him. He trotted over to her and stopped, reaching forwards to tug at her mane gently, "I am Thambaroo," he said "Named for the ghostly spirit that moves among the snowgums, unseen. And what may I call, oh wise brown mare?"

[Corowa]

Mullara led the stallion on a dance through the silver-grey trunks of the snow gums, to where the ravine widened to a grassy basin, snowgrass springy underfoot. At the foot of the cliff the mare stopped in her tracks, stood, breathless, under this ledge of rock. The palest of will o’ the whisp, the night did not hide this stallion of the snow, of the winds that moaned through the snowgums, of the high country itself. Whereas, Mullara blended into the night, this brumby stallion seemed to be possessor of the moonlight, wreathed by mist. “Thambaroo is a great name,” the mare said. And the darkness, a mopoke called, and it seemed to speak of promise, although the brumby mare, wise as she was, did not understand all that was said. “I am Mullara,” the mare answered, “It was for the great dark clouds of the blizzard, which gather in the high country and stir fear in the creatures of the bush, for which I was named.” Through the silence of snow falling softly upon snow, the mopoke called and this time it spoke not of promise, but of darkness without light, so that Mullara felt the hairs on her hide prickle, and she pressed tight to the stallion beside her.

OOC: I think she said her name in the first post, but we’ll just pretend it didn’t happen. Also, apologies for the delay in posting this.

[yaruka]

OOC: oops, I think you might be right...oh well. and no problem

BIC:
As he followed the mysterious brown brumby in her captivating flight through the trees Thambaroo felt years younger. He rememberd his days as a carefree three year old when he was just beginning to gather a herd of his own. Though modest to the end he had been quite the force, a strong and careful fighter but an equally loyal and compassionate herd stallion. When Mullara finally stopped he stood with her, gently grooming her withers. "Mullara, too, is a fine name." he said as he rubbed the base of her neck "But for what reason did your dam name you for the storm clouds that so many fear? Perhaps because you, like me, see no reason to fear the storm but simply live through it and revel in the freedom it gives us when the rest are hidden"
Then the mopoke called, not once but twice. Mullara shivered and pressed closer to him. Thambaroo too could hear of trouble in the future. But he wasn't yet ready to give up his newfound happiness. Shaking his thick neck so that his heavy mane flopped from side to side he tried to brush off his fears for the future. He was wise beyond his years and knew this mountain and it's surrounding area like he knew his own hoof. He would make sure that they remained safe, no point in worrying too much just now, no when they had just found sanctuary. He nuzzled Mullara, trying to convey to her that he would protect her and stand by her no matter what happened.

[Corowa]

“For I was born in flood,” Mullara answered. “I was as dark as the clouds that raced over the mountains, black as a day without light.” Mullara trembled as she spoke, remembering the surging torrent, the raging, roaring waters. “My dam’s mate drowned, and another took her from the Bogong to north of the Ramshead.” In the mist and darkness, she half-imagined the ghost of a noble black stallion, his proud head upflung and nostrils quivering as he sought messages hidden in the wind. Then he melted into the thick bush, and ribbons of bark creaked in the wind as he vanished once more into the night. There seemed an echo of a neigh in the wind, and Mullara stirred and in her mind threw her own throbbing call in return. There had been no challenge in that wild neigh, and perhaps the black brumby stallion was glad that his mate did not wander the bush without another.

“I too had a mate that was lost to me,” Mullara went on, trusting this stallion beside her, possessor of the mysteries of snow and storm. “Moltu, whose bimble was north of Quambat Flat. Two colts I bore him, yet it was a blizzard that stole him from me, my stallion of the night.” Sighing deeply, she rested her head on Thambaroo’s withers, listened to the steady beat of his heart, reassured he was no ghost to be borne away by the mist. “And now I am yours."

[yaruka]

Thambaroo nuzzled Mullara gently as she recalled the sad tale of her past, trying to comfort as best he could. Perhaps the real reason they had been brought together was so that they could help each other get through their past sorrows?
And now I am yours she finished and Thambaroo was glad. He wanted to help her find joy again in life, he had known her for little more than a few days but already he loved this mare of the floods and storm.
“I also have a sad past,” he said, acknowledging her trust in him by placing his own trust in her. “I had a small herd when I was younger, and we were happy. But men soon came and chased us across the mountains. Only myself and one of my mares got away. The rest were captured. Though Star had escaped the clutches of men, she went into labor early with our first foal from the stress of the chase. Both she and the foal died while she was giving birth.' The giant grey stallion sighed, half-surpressed memories stirring in his mind and clouding his eyes with pain "After I had stayed vigil with Star and the foal, I named it Sky, I went back to see if I could regather the rest of the herd. But no such luck. The men were crafty and had built large barriers around the captured wild horses. Though I stayed nearby for days there was no opportunity for me to rescue them." He sighed bitterly, recalling the sense of loss and failure. "I have been void of equine company ever since. Until now of course, for you came to me in the blizzard and have since stayed." He nickered gratefully to her, rubbing his cheek along her neck.

OOC: hope it's ok :/

[Corowa]

“I know of Man and his tame horses, his evil-smelling smoke and his huts.” Mullara trembled all over. “Man brings sorrow to the mountains, Man with his greed,” the mare said. Mullara could barely remember the brumby drive, the black man and his brown horse, the cracks of whips, the frenzy of fear that had run through the mob. Yet that day had firmly planted within her a fear of Man, the fear of all things hunted. Jittery, unnerved by the peaceful silence of the bush, the mare moved towards a little stream at the foot of a timbered ridge. The snowgrass dropped down steeply to the stream, surrounded by a damp forest of blanketwoods and hop scrub. Her ears twitching nervously, Mullara lowered her head to drink. When from further down the valley a lyrebird mimicked the bark of a stockman’s dog, the mare shied away, sweat breaking out behind her ears.

Where the timber thinned at the rim of the grassy basin, a flock of jays mocked her foolishness. Nostrils dilated, Mullara threw up her head, smelling the air. Early morning sunlight crept through the topmost branches of the snowgums, and the mare’s joyous neigh echoed round and round the narrow valley. Boundless in the joy of the dawn, of the morning, Mullara galloped towards the stallion. Pirouetting on her haunches, she struck him a drumming blow, leapt away to where the valley widened and the bush was thick and scrubby, threw her mocking challenge to the winds.

OOC: It's awful, let’s burn it *rolls eyes* Anyways I wrote this after a day of work so ignore anything that doesn’t make sense. And yes, it is now daytime lmao.

[yaruka]

“Yes, Man brings nothing but sorrow to the creatures of the bush,” agreed Thambaroo, his gaze far-off and distant as he relived the fear and horror of that day. He sensed Mullara’s jitteriness and sought to comfort her. All through the night he stood close to her, flank to flank, pressed together, always watchful. He vowed to protect Mullara, with his life if necessary. He would try his best to ensure that men never stirred fear in her heart again.
The morning brought joy and hope, Mullara danced off again, then raced back over and battered him playfully with her forelegs. Thambaroo tugged at her mane affectionately then nipped her on the flank, cantering off and waiting for her to give chase.

[Corowa]

It was the bronze cuckoo who told of the white stallion and his mate, playing in the hidden valley. The mare dodged nimbly through the snowgums, like a gadfly mocking the white stallion, a flash of colour between the trees, as she leapt from the rough rocks at the mouth of the valley where the narrow wallaby track led to the flats above. As she leapt from those mossy rocks to snowgrass, the mare whinnied to him, and her call was full of all the joy of the high country. Mullara caught the stallion in the thicker eucalypts, eyes showing the whites as she raced on through the low stringy barks, twisting and turning as she galloped so that between the thick curtains of bark, it was as if it were two brumbies running on and on. When Mullara came to a high ledge of rock, the mare propped to a standstill. Peering over the edge, the mare could see a grassy flat beneath the tall Alpine ash, which flanked the great cliffs of the valley. Near hidden by the thick scrub and band of trees, it would be a useful hiding place when Man returned to the mountains. “Thambaroo,” the mare called softly, “I have found something.” There was no track downwards here, only a sharp drop to the trees below. But perhaps where the hop scrubs and heather grew; there would be a secret track, known only by wallabies and wombats, half-forgotten to brumbies.