Two for Mirth {Psyche, OPEN}

[{ Opal }]

OOC: I hope a new thread is okay, Starling. =)

We work well as a team, Gurnmil mused, tilting an ear in Psyche's direction. It hadn't taken them long to reach the secluded Ash Forest, with Crakk as a scout and Psyche as the leader. At first Gurnmil was quite unhappy, feeling like an invalid or a trailing dog, but after a while he had come to appreciate Psyche's guidance. She was thoughtful enough, avoiding rocks he could not see, and working well with Crakk. Gurnmil huffed, a playful grin teasing at his muzzle. He felt certain she was trying to woo him, and it was certainly working. He could hear him now, babbling on to the mare.

"You know, I almost got killed, like, three times." It sounded like a brag the way Crakk said it, from his high perch in a tall ash tree. "Master saved me the first time, ya see. I had, uh, landed incorrectly...." Gurnmil had to stifle a humorous snort. Crakk was less than perfect at his landings, as Psyche may have guessed from their first meeting, and he had actually flown right into the branch he was trying to land on, thus knocking the air out of him. If the old horse had sight, he would have seen Crakk flattening his feathers, making it seem as if he shrunk, and from embarrassment no doubt. "Anyway, a dingo was fixin' to eat me, but Gurnmil came in and scared 'im away!!" The last bit was quite the exclamation, enhanced by Crakk's ruffling of his feathers. "So, yeah, that's how a met the chap. I mean... Master." The raven corrected, finding it hard to remember formality. Gurnmil could care less what Crakk called him, really, but the bird had a style of his own, which he wished to uphold.

Gurnmil sighed, but as gruff as it sounded, it was borne from nothing more than contentment. It was nice to see Crakk making a "friend," and it was pleasant to have the company of his own kind. "One for sadness, two for mirth; Three for marriage, four for birth; Five for laughing, six for crying; Nine for silver, ten for gold; Eleven a secret that will ne-" Gurnmil stopped, startled to find himself humming the mysterious tune. What was he doing? If he let his guard down now, some stallion would surely steal Psyche away. Gurnmil hastily tested he air, and found only familiar smells. Just to be sure, though, he lumbered toward Psyche and the raven, who was now staring dreamily off into the distance, probably recalling memories. As Gurnmil grew closer, he gave Psyche a nod, one that held respect. It was a surprising gesture, as Gurnmil hardly cared about being courteous, but he had to give his respects to the moon filly. She was well-rounded, calm and in control, handling her unique situation with certain grace.

[starlingshour]

Psyche listened intently to Crakk as he told her stories of his unfortunate yet humerous past. At times she would chuckle at the stories he told her. He had done an excellant job at guiding Gurnmil and her to a nice shady place, and he seemed to know it. The bird could boast for days it seemed!

"I wish I could fly like you Crakk! That would be amazing, soaring up there in the clouds.." Psyche told him. Her voice was full of desire to be free like that. "You're an amazing fellow you know that." She smiled warmly at him. Crakk would become a great friend she just knew it!

As the sun went down on this world on which she spun Psyche felt comforted by the coming of the moon. Her skin shivered with the exhaust of the day. The energy she had left was dwindling. The crest of her neck was lowered in a relaxed position. Soon she would be quite energetic again, hopefully Gurnmil could handle being up at night and sleeping during the day...well maybe.

"Were would you like to stop Gurmil? Anywhere will do for me."

Psyche slowed to a stop. The movement was graceful. Her forlock fell lightly between her eyes. She was a pretty sight in the setting sun, it was too bad no one was around to see well accept for Crakk. However she didn't think he would think her appealing being a different species and all. It would be nice to have some affection some time, Psyche thought.

[Ehetere]

Jirrand trotted despondently through the fading light, a half being, about as substantial as a ghost. He had woken when the sun had still been high that day, but had not left his sleeping hollow until a few minutes ago. Ever since that dreadful fight where Tallerk had been taken from him, he had not ventured out except for when the sun went down. He no longer trusted the fiery ball in the sky; it was a traitor and had lost him his mate. Glaring resentfully at it as it sunk below the horizon, Jirrand soldiered on through the silent trunks surrounding him.

Or not so silent as it had first seemed. Through the bush came the definite sounds of at least two horses cracking branches under-foot, and could that be a raven’s voice that he could hear? All of his common sense told him to go in the other direction; he still was not fully healed from his last fight and knew now that an older stallion definitely had the advantage in the sunlight hours. Being lithe didn’t help you much when you couldn’t see. But he wanted to know why in the world a bird was hanging around horses, and if it was a stallion he only had one mare. And a bird. So Jirrand crept through the sunset in the direction of the noises, creeping silently and carefully, making sure not to step on anything that would give him away.

The sight that rewarded him for his stealth was unusual, to say the least. The horses alone were enough. There was an old scarred stallion pacing carefully after an undeniably beautiful mare. She had a coat that was as black as the night sky and a silver mane like that of the moon. Jirrand could not believe his eyes; he had managed to stumble upon a Moonfilly. They were supposed to be almost as illusive as the Nightrunners, and were highly prized among stallions. So that meant that the old grey stallion must have one hell of a kick to keep her. Either that or he was just extremely lucky not to have run into a stronger stallion yet. But the beautiful mare and odd scarred stallion had distracted him from another unusual element to this scene: the raven.

How strange it was for any horse to have a bird as a companion. Jirrand was unsure as to whom the bird was friends with, but whichever brumby it was it made no difference. It also seemed as though the birds was leading the other two, talking to them both in its croaking voice. Jirrand shook his mane to rid himself of a fly that had decided to rest there and every so quietly snorted under his breath. Who were this trio? And what was their purpose?

The Moonfilly called a halt, slowing down and stopping in the sunlight’s dying rays. They made her coat gleam in a way that made Jirrand’s mind automatically jump to the thought of stealing her. But that was foolish, for her stallion looked even older than the blood bay who had knocked him out and stolen Tallerk, so who was he, only a three year old, to think that he could beat this battle scarred stallion. He probably had ten times as much experience in fighting as he did.

But there was something even more strange. It was the mare who had called a stop not the stallion. And she was leading him. Why was that? The bird was leading them both but surely any stallion would want to be seen leading such a prize as this filly, not trailing her like a shadow. There was something not right about the scenario, but Jirrand could simply not put his hoof on it. He was completely hooked now, and knew that he could not slink away even if he had wanted to. Checking the direction of the wind, making sure it would not give him away, he hunkered down behind one of the tall slender trunks to wait and watch. Soon the beauty of the moon would rise and darkness would cloak the bush. No normal brumby could see as well as he in the night, and it would be then that he could move around more freely.

[{ Opal }]

"I wish I could fly like you, Crakk! That would be amazing, soaring up there in the clouds..." The raven visibly beamed at the adoration, not bothering to mention he was more suited to low glides than high-altitude trips. "You're an amazing fellow, you know that?" Crakk moved his feathers to make a shrugging effect, though his eyes were gleaming. "Awe, well, I dunno about amazing... Maybe more, you know, incredible." He puffed out his chest in a showy gesture, which was rather humorous, because even so he looked rather small.

Gurnmil was noticing the slight temperature change- indicating the coming nightfall- when Psyche spoke. He pondered over the spoken question a moment, then began testing the air, his ears swiveling like scopes, analyzing the area. After a minute of prolonged silence, Gurnmil slowly nodded. "We'll stay here, then," he said, sounding more confident than he felt. It was just so difficult to make decisions when you couldn't see things for yourself....

The grey gave himself a quick shake, and began switching his tail across his hindquarters, trying to rid them of flies. He heard the faint fluttering of wings, and soon Crakk was positioned on his withers, growing drowsy as the sun went down. Gurnmil, too, was growing weary, but he knew he wouldn't be sleeping much tonight, not with such a precious filly at stake. The old grey's head began to droop, and he started to reconsider staying up all night. After all, what brumby roams around at night? The forest was not a popular place, especially now with winter coming on.

A sudden scratching sound brought Gurnmil's head up instantly, causing Crakk to squawk in surprise. Startled, Gurnmil swung around to face where the noise had come from, and in doing so stumbled on an unseen rock. He cursed under his breath, raising his sore pastern in distaste. "Thought I heard something." Gurnmil grumbled as explanation to Psyche. For now, though, the sound had been forgotten. It was probably a dingo or wallaby anyhow, Gurnmil mused.

[starlingshour]

The moonfilly was feeling more energetic as the moon sat on the crest of the nearby mountain. Her position kept shifting as the energy seemed to pulse through her body. A smile creased her maw and she closed he eyes in sheer pleasure. A shiver ran down her spine and then it was over. Of course she was still gaining energy but the beginning of the energy serge that she felt almost every night, waas her favorite time of the twenty for hours that we call a day.

Psyche shook out her pearly mane. It fell like icing on a chocolate cake over her curved neck. Gurnmil had already confirmed that they were to stay here this night by now. He looked weary yet worried. Why worried. The pretty little moonfilly was quite positive there was no one else around and if she did find somone she would certaintly tell him.

"Gurnmil, why don't you get some rest. I was planning on staying up anyway." She smiled at him now, and turned those big brown eyes of hers on him. If only he could see them! "You too Crakk. I won't let anything get you, except the boogie monster!" Psyche winked at the bird, letting him know she was just kidding.

The mare flicked her tail at the high point on her rump. She missed. And she missed again, and again, and again. Her eyebrows furrowed and she was quite determined to get this itch off of her rump. A sigh escaped her mouth as she stalked over to a fairly large tree with rough bark. Turning her back on the tree she repeatedly rubbed her rump on the rouch bark. When she stepped away from the tree silver hair lined the rump.

"Ah, fudge."

Well they can't be put back in so why bother? Psyche tought. Sometimes this world just agitated her. Why couldn't everything just go right for a change? Ah well, it made her a better horse now that she had to deal with difficulties. Psyche settled into a comfortable stance and started to wait out the night.

[Ehetere]

At last the sun sank behind the mountain’s shadow for another day and Jirrand revelled in the cool twilight light. The gentle night chorus started up; cicadas chirping, the wind gently blowing through the trees, and the night birds beginning to stir. Finally.

Still Jirrand bided his time listening to the sounds of evening; waiting for the light to fade further and for the moon to rise above the mountains. He did not want there to be any chance of the other two horses - or the raven - spotting him, despite his pale silvery coat. If they were asleep then they wouldn’t be awake to see him.

He crept stealthily through the trees, careful not to brush against any bracken or snap a twig. As he approached the small group again, he slowed and concealed himself better again to check that the coast was clear. The Moonfilly was still awake; not that was surprising with the beautiful glowing moon overhead, but the scarred stallion appeared to be settling down to rest. His body was still tense though - perhaps he sensed his presence here. Jirrand flicked his ears nervously back and fourth, that niggling feeling in the back of his mind telling him to flee again before he was killed. But that filly truly was divine, and he couldn’t resist.

He began to slowly circle the little mob, to see which angle the filly looked best from since at this stage he still didn’t trust the stallion not to wake up at a moment’s notice. Perhaps he wasn’t even asleep at all and it was a clever bluff. Jirrand still couldn’t keep his eyes - or his thoughts - on anything but the Moonfilly for any more than a second though it seemed and he began to wonder exactly how attentive she was. And how well she could see by the light of the moon.

He wasn’t going to give himself away by sound; that would probably wake the stallion. But perhaps she would see a flicker of a silver tail for a second if it was there to be seen. So very carefully, Jirrand flicked his tail deliberately in a pool of moonlight to make it shine, just for a second. Would she see it? Perhaps look in his direction? Suddenly cheeky, Jirrand quickly circled around again, so that if she did notice the movement, she would not see his coat shine in the bush. If she was sufficiently distracted, he quite felt like sneaking up on her.