Melting Snow

[Corowa]

Several kangaroos bounded into the stringy barks further up ahead, and somewhere nearby a currawong called out to its mate. Mist rose up from the grass, still damp from last night’s rain, and sunlight slanted through the uppermost branches of the trees. A lyrebird darted across the track, disappearing into the undergrowth of bracken and tea-tree.

Corowa, the dark grey brumby, lifted her head and snorted. The threat of snow had driven the mare to the lower flats, and the skies were black overhead. All the animals of the bush were restless, and there had been sightings of man down near South Ramshead with his white-faced cattle and tame horses. For days there had been nothing but the roar of water, and the sound filled Corowa with fear.

The mare moved deeper into the belt of snowgums, hide prickling with this queer excitement. Everywhere there had been the smell of death. Trees had been uprooted, and in one valley Corowa had come across the body of a young stallion. Trapped by a mess of branches he had perished. Not even the wombat dared to venture from his warm burrow, safe from the howling, tearing winds. Occasionally the doleful song of the mopoke broke the eerie hush that had descended upon the bush, but aside from that, all was still.

[Illu]

Well, this promised an unusually early snowfall, and by the looks of it, a violent one. Corowa wasn’t the only one being driven out of the highlands, though, coming all the way down from Kosciusko alone was a mean feat. In fact, while clambering across the Ramshead Range, Rezar had lost a shoe from his near foreleg. It was a strange feeling to walk unshod, even if it was only on one foot. The last time he had been able to was difficult for him to remember.

Want of a break finally pulled the strange coloured stallion to a halt, within vision of the grey. Taking absolutely no precaution to check his surroundings he put his nose to the ground and started grubbing around for a patch of grass worth eating. The quality of the grass had slipped in accordance with the weather and Rezar was notoriously picky about his food. By chance, he came across Corowa’s footprint and blew down his nose in interest.

Mares where being pushed further and further into the back of his list of priorities in no small part thanks to the horror of his meeting with Kessa and Dilali. Spring was for fillies, not autumn, if he had to have his fifth birthday still on his own, then perhaps that was how it had to be. It didn’t stop him lifting his head to have a glance around though.

[Corowa]

The silence was broken by a crescendo of howls, the mournful cries of the dingoes echoing back off the craggy walls of the gully. Corowa stirred fearfully; a fierce storm was brewing, and dark clouds massed in the black sky. There was a low rumble of distant thunder, and a sudden flash of lightning brightened the otherwise grey sky.

A flock of Gang Gangs screeched as they flew overhead, knowing that there would be more bad weather to follow. The grey brumby mare, named for the deep rocky rivers of the high country, looked up and saw a stallion descended from the sun itself.

Silhouetted by the failing light, Corowa was hidden by the messmate and snowgums. She was a daughter of the whirlwind, descendent of Thowra, king of the brumbies. The mare was intrigued by the stallion, and she moved slowly into the open. "I am Corowa," she said quietly, reaching out tentatively with her nose to nuzzle him. The wind had died down, and a phalanger rustled in the branches above.

On this dark wild night, she had to be certain that he was real. Yet this stallion was solid beneath her touch, and the mare was shaken by something she could not explain. He blazed with the full glory of the sun, and Corowa knew that there was more to this than she could yet know. A bush rat scuttled past, and the mare could feel the watching eyes of the bush. "

[Illu]

The weathers sudden, unexpected turn for the worse after the lengthy quiet felt very ominous, and the grey mountain cockatoos suddenly flying off like that didn’t help matters. Rezar watched them until they disappeared over the crowns of the trees. If there had been a message in their cries, he had missed it, probably so much time out of practise. The stallion was turning to look back down again when a movement caught his eye.

It wasn’t the same sort of movement of the wind-tossed limbs of the silvered trees, which was why he noticed. Slowly a grey shape began to materialise from the trunks of the snowgums. Rezar pricked his ears and watched in amazement as it took the form of an attractive grey mare. An odd fancy suddenly struck him that this filly of the wind, as it where, could be the cause of the sudden storm. Thowra could summon blizzards as it was told, was it too much of a stretch that others could do similar?

At least she was real. If it had a voice, it was real. The filly too felt solid as he returned her greeting. In his usual fashion, he had forgotten to give his own name back. Hopefully it just made him seem more mysterious. Please God may it be mysterious! He’d had enough filly disasters to last a while. ”I am Rezar,” he replied in turn, trying to make sure his voice didn’t give too much away of what was going on in his head. ”What are you doing here, so far from other horses?” Thats right, play it cool, don't stuff up.

[Corowa]

Corowa stilled as the stallion gently nudged her. He was young, and was only just reaching his prime. But as were the laws of the bush, even the king of the brumbies would one day be beaten when old age fell upon him. There was a queer quality about this stallion. He was the sun and she the moon, a pale wraith amidst the darkness, and neither sun nor moon could exist without the other.

"I have no herd," Corowa answered. "I come from the South, and it is there upon the Ramshead that I was born." Somewhere up there upon those granite peaks lay the bones of Thowra, the whirlwind himself. Corowa had been born on the craggy tors of the Ramshead Mountains. Named for the swift waters of the high country, the mare had been filled with such restlessness, and yet she longed for the South, to return once more to the place of her birth.

Moving away from the stallion, the pale grey mare danced amongst the silver-white flowers of the mountain heath, for the watching stallion. Corowa was but a ghost in the fading light, illuminated only by the stars that had appeared overhead. Wonderment filled the mare, and she felt she could hear the whisper of the wind calling her name. But the legends of the bush were only told to those who could listen, and perhaps it was but the rustle of leaves that the young mare had heard.

ooc: yeah, well that post totally sucked :]

[Illu]

Either Corowa had inherited Thowra’s strange quality of hearing and noticing subliminal messages around her in the bush, or Rezar‘s ears where stuffed with smoke from all those campfires. Thankfully, his eyes where in working order and he had the wits to know he’d be a fool to leave the smoothing dancing grey behind.

Her movements where quiet and rhythmical, taking no visual effort to perform. All the starlight seemed focused on her, and Rezar, for the first time in his life, found himself drawn forwards. He came up high stepping, forgetting his usual care to keep his gleaming shoes hidden around other horses. Right now, it didn’t seem to matter as he came to meet her in the silver light, giving her a friendly, inviting nicker.

Kessa who?

[Corowa]

Coming to a halt, the spell that Corowa's dance had woven was broken. Suddenly the bush came alive around the brumbies, as a possum scurried from branch to branch in the eucalypts above, and an owl swooped silently overhead. Rezar seemed entranced, and the mare watched as he pranced towards her. Her nostrils quivered, and she called to him, once.

The stallion joined her in the clearing, and the two brumbies stood, encompassed by darkness and surrounded by legend and lore. Corowa stood breathless, lowering her head to give an imploring nicker. Perhaps it was the wind howling through the valley and carried from the south that had lent its courage to the lone brumby mare. Perhaps it was the whirlwind himself, though Corowa knew that he would never leave his beloved mountains.

Corowa nibbled the stallion's shoulder, feeling a shiver of fear, or perhaps excitement, run through her. It was a strange night, stormy and dark. A wombat ambled past, snuffling quietly to itself before vanishing into the gloom. The very bush seemed a living thing, breathing, watching, and waiting. But for what, Corowa was not yet certain of.

ooc: didn't know what to say, it all sounded either corny or awful

[Illu]

As Corowa stopped moving, Rezar suddenly realised the bush coming back to life, as though they’d be temporarily shoved on mute. He lifted his head in mild surprise as that owl swooped over their heads, then proceeded to forcibly ignore the rest. Nothing was going to ruin this, but then, considering his track record...

In an effort to seem like he was actually doing something rather than standing around slack jawed, Rezar returned the favour and started grooming her wither with his teeth and making a comforting sort of noise. It was a rather strange situation, normally it was the stallion that lured away the fillies, rather than ghost mares luring male horses away in the night, so either Corowa was a mysterious horse indeed, or Rezar was going to be the girl of the relationship

[Corowa]

Corowa sighed, and gently nipped the stallion. It was starting to rain, a fine mist that clung to the leaves of the eucalypts and grew colder so soon enough it was sleet that stung their wet hides and drew fearful animals from their holes. An early winter was not unusual in the high country, but there was something about the ferocity of the storm that caused an unreasonable fear in the mare. The sky brightened with sheet lightning, Corowa backed into the cover of the trees, calling softly to Rezar as she went. Come to me, come to me.

Terror pushed the mare steadily downwards, and several times the mare turned back and glimpsed the shadowy figure of a mopoke between the mottled trunks of the candlebarks. Further down the valley was a sheltered hollow, and it was at the foot of the gully that Corowa stopped, where a clump of stringy barks and alpine ash protected it from the onslaught of the wind. And it was here the brumby mare waited; waited for this stallion who possessed all the brilliance of the sun.

Perhaps the mopoke would tell of this strange meeting, to be carried by the winds of the south, and picked up by the currawongs who would weave it into legend. The bush hid its secrets, and Corowa knew that once there had been the tale of a silver brumby who had befriended a silver dingo, her sire Tiarri who had been descended from the whirlwind himself. Yet like all tales it had been twisted into myth, and no one could tell whether such things had really ever come to pass.

[Illu]

Corowa seemed extremely worried about something, and Rezar’s best guess was that it had something to do with the weather. It wasn’t quite something he fully appreciated seeing as the last time the winter was as bad he’d been happily lasting it out in the barn with hot oats, bran and a blanket. He didn’t care what some brumbies said about humans, in some ways, life as a tame horse was easier, at least there was no need to hunt down mares, if you where a good stallion they where just given to you. But of course, Rezar had been better cared for than a lot of others.

When Corowa moved, he followed, dragged after her by no visible string. Like others of her colour he didn’t want to risk getting too far away lest the grey light swallow her up and she become lost among the trees. And so they met under the glade and stood close, close enough to touch until the moment for silence passed.

”Where are you headed after tonight?”