Returning to the hidden flat, [tham]

[Corowa]

Giving him a swift nip to silence him, the mare raised her head and neighed to the night sky, plunging down towards the gully floor, driving the colt down into the darkness. He glistened in the moonlight, and the mare felt the watching eyes of the bush upon them. Stumbling over the rough rocks and round boulders, the buckskin colt felt sweat break out behind his ears as his mother drove him downwards, her neigh echoing weirdly around the hidden flat. Then there was snowgrass underfoot, wet and springy, and the colt struck his mother a glancing blow as she raced past him.

With an angry squeal, Yaraan lowered his head and bucked in sheer protest. Ears flickering nervously, the colt trotted into the shadowy fringe of Alpine Ash, shying sharply to one side when a mopoke flew almost silently through the topmost branches of this ghostly forest. Every nerve tingled, and when his mother loomed from the shadows of a spreading snowgum, the colt pivoted on his hindquarters and bolted. Stinging branches whipped his head, his flanks and back, and then his mother was beside him, steadily turning him until he slackened his headlong pace. “Foolish one,” Mullara said with an amused snort. “This is your home, there is no danger here.”

In a foul mood, Yaraan reached over and roughly nipped her withers. Mullara, used to her bad-tempered son, struck him fiercely with her forelegs so that the colt squealed with pure outrage. Here and there, there was the peculiar spoor of a brumby and Mullara gave an excited whinny, for Thambaroo was near. Yaraan’s ears pricked forwards, sharing his mother’s excitement, as mare and foal threaded through those slender, white trunks, and all the while the mopoke watched and listened.

OOC: hehe, yaraan is such a grumpy sod

[yaruka]

In the sheltered valley a lone ghost of a stallion grazed restlessly, raising his head occasionally to scent the air and gaze about him. He was waiting for his only mare's return with their first foal, his first first foal he had ever sired. He was filled with nervous excitement but concerned that they had been gone too long. How long was normal? Surely they hadn't gotten lost? What if the birth had gone horribly wrong? He shuddered as half-surpressed memories of a dying mare and her still born foal swam through his mind. The feeling of helplessness and agonizing pain and sorrow made his limbs stiff and his heart pound with fear. He could not go through that again. The faint ring of a hoof on rock met his ears and throwing up his noble head he pricked his large ears forward, body trembling. Could he smell Mullara's scent or was it simply the teaseing of his imagination that brought her familiar scent to his flaring nostrils? Finally the dusky mare came into view, followed by a pale foal, glowing as he himself did in the open moonlight. Nickering deeply he walked forward to meet his mate and colt, thick neck arched with pride and trying to hide the relief that clouded his dark eyes. A happiness such as he had never felt before, at least not since his younger days as a stallion with a new herd coursed through him.

OOC: yay! Tham's a father at last <3

[Corowa]

The boughs of the Alpine Ash moved in the wind, and through those tall, slender trunks, Mullara saw a stallion wraithlike as the trees. With a joyous whinny, the mare went forwards to meet him, proud of how strongly Yaraan trotted by her side. In this snowgrass glade, bathed in moonlight and watched only by the mopoke, the mare came to a standstill.

“This is our son, Yaraan of the snowgums,” the mare said, nudging the pale coloured colt forwards. Yaraan, made restless by his mother’s excitement, squealed angrily and kicked out. Ears laid back, the dun brumby mare struck her son a glancing blow, and he gave a shrill whinny of pain. Sourly, the colt nosed her flanks and then lowered his head and sucked. Tenderly, Mullara nibbled his rump and withers, ignoring Yaraan’s snorts of protest. “He is as grumpy as a wombat,” the mare went on, wondering whether Thambaroo would be gentle towards his oftentimes, bad-tempered son. Too tired to stand any longer, the colt dropped to the ground and slept.

“I was worried we would not reach you again,” Mullara said, and gently nuzzled her mate, this fine silver-grey stallion of the Hidden Flat. “We were pursued by men down near the Crackenback, for our son is foolish and difficult to teach.” Worriedly, the mare nosed the pale coloured foal, and he stirred with a wondering sigh, half-awake, his mind filled with ghostly white horses vanishing into the mist. Perhaps the Hidden Flat would not still the wanderlust in his blood, and Mullara was anxious that his fascination with men might bring trouble to the Ramshead.

[yaruka]

The large grey stallion stepped forward to meet Mullara, noting proudly how strongly their son trotted alongside his mother. Thambaroo touched his mate's nose tenderly, before stepping back so that Mullara could introduce the pale colt. "This is our son, Yaraan of the snowgums said the mare and Thambaroo was about to respond when the colt kicked out angrily at his mother and she reprimanded him with a strike of her own. Shocked Thambaroo looked on, troubled, at the exchange between mother and son. Surely foals were not supposed to be so ill-tempered! Nevertheless he merely nodded at the mare's next words and replied "I can see that. He is a fine,strong colt though and I'm sure he will make us both proud." He sniffed the crest of the colt's neck gently, being careful not to wake him. He turned back to Mullara and nuzzled her lovingly in return. "I, too, was concerned I would never see you again. But you are back now, the both of you. Worry not but rest. I am sure the journey was not an easy one." He could tell that Mullara was troubled and in truth her words had instilled anxiety in his own blood. Thambaroo had long ago learnt to deal with the shortcomings of having such a pale and noticeable coat; but if Yaraan was unwilling to listen than there was little he would be able to do to protect him. He feared that the colt's curiosty would bring harm not only on himself but to his parents also. Perhaps even all the brumbies of the High Country. He didn't say any of this to Mullara though. No, for now he wanted her to be able to rest. Lipping at a strand of her mane affectionately he began to groom her along the crest of her neck and withers, keeping an eye and an ear out for danger just in case. He would give all he had to protect his little family.
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[Corowa]

“It would have been easier,” Mullara snorted. “If our son had not been so fascinated with tales of Thowra, and thought himself swift and cunning as the whirlwind.” Worriedly, the mare looked on as Thambaroo curiously sniffed his son, yet there was nothing menacing in the gesture. With a sigh, Yaraan stirred and Mullara softly nosed the sleeping foal, who no doubt dreamed of those foolish silver brumbies.

Thambaroo moved closer, and when his nose touched her neck, every hair stood on end, every nerve tingled. Blowing gently through her nostrils, the mare rested her head on his withers, glad to have returned to this Hidden Flat, with its towering forests of Alpine Ash, and snowgrass springy underfoot. “I have missed you,” the mare said, and she trembled, unable to contain the restiveness that flowed in her veins.

Yaraan blinked, half-awake and still dreaming of glorious creamy mares and proud silver stallions. There he saw his mother and sire, necks intertwined so it was if one horse stood, outlined against the night sky. Troubled by visions of ghostly horses, glistening white in the moonlight, the colt gave a shrill whinny and struggled to his feet. Mullara, hearing her son, turned swiftly. Yet there was none but that fine golden colt, and already the horror of dreams were leaving him. “Dreaming of your silver brumbies again?” the mare asked, and Yaraan crept closer to her side. “One day perhaps my son, you shall run as swift and sure as Thowra himself. But you must rest now, for I will watch over you.”

[yaruka]

"Indeed," said the stallion thoughtfully but he did not otherwise remark on his mate's remarks. He rubbed his head gently against her neck, seeking to sooth her troubled mind. "I missed you too," he said softly though words could not express the extent to which he had pined for his only mare's returned. Yaraan awoke and in his fear he seemd so much more meek, so much more like a colt as he crept over to his mother's side. Thambaroo nickered reassuringly to his son, hoping that, somehow, he would be able to impart some wisdom to that stubborn mind before it was too late. In the light of the full moon Mullara's outline showed more clearly, it was true, but himself and Yaraan positively glowed. Glancing up at the glowing orb he thought that it would be the enemy and friend on his first born son, like it was both enemy and friend to he himself. It's light would shine on all, thus making it easier to navigate in the dark, yet the rays that hit the earth would glow most brightly of all on a white hide, or a golden one. Sighing deeply, he returned his attention to the moment, nuzzling Mullara gently oncemore, "Sleep if you wish," he whispered softly in her ear "I will keep watch over you and our son."

[Corowa]

“Sleep, so you might creep off into the night like the ghost for which you were named?” Mullara mocked, giving the white stallion a rough nip on the withers. “I cannot sleep tonight. My blood is too restless for I fear there is trouble on the winds.” Men were everywhere in the mountain, and in the rough country of the Crackenback, there had been the worrying sound of wood striking wood. Through the deep gullies reaching back to the hills, the two brumbies had crept, hides crawling with fear, on and on soundlessly through the thick bush.

Yaraan peered up at his mother, blinking against the sudden light of the full moon. “Be still my son,” Mullara said, and it seemed as though there were two horses of living light, this silver-white stallion and golden foal, his son. Unable to remain standing, for he swayed with exhaustion, the colt dropped down into the deep sleep of young ones.

Gently, Mullara nosed the pale golden foal lying in a heap at her feet. “I worry there are too many men in the mountains,” the mare said fearfully. “Never have I seen so many and all the wild creatures of the bush are restless. We cannot leave the Hidden Flat until the men have left, for I fear Yaraan too foolish and young to avoid capture should he be seen.” Again, Mullara thought of that man and his big chestnut horse, heard the gasping of her own breath, Yaraan beside her, shoulder to flank as the rope whistled through the air.