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Post by Rivre on Jul 20, 2009 11:42:21 GMT
Under the cover of the snowgum ribbons, she stood, a quiet, observing figure in the looming shadows; her hide of crimson chestnut, gleamed, utterly gleeful, as the tepid suns rays flickered through her cover of pallid leaves, to touch her flame red hide, the silver barks allowing her to be a jewel among peasants.
The wattle in full bloom beside her, having taken over the range of the kangaroos Paw, flowering near-by, snowgrass under-hoof springy and light compared to the shaly rock track she had just left off.
Having the advantage of height on her grassy flat, she peered cautiously down into the valley below, earthy colored muzzle quivering as a slight nicker escaped her now excited being. Silly of her; stepping back into the shady forest, the northern winds lifting her banner of a mane from her flecking neck, tail to flow freely behind her, she arched her curvature with solemn pride, high-stepping into the open air, nothing but space before her, and rose like a fire god, rearing with all the grace and beauty she had been taught, and called her shrill whinny of a laugh to the silent grass plain. She did not care for the gang gangs who called in fright, nor the wombat on it's own little track, who started in wonder at the enticing call; a call to stallions alike - and anybody else that was around to hear her.
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Post by Ehetere on Jul 21, 2009 6:04:14 GMT
His heart was beating in his ears and excitement was rising in his chest; fuelling his exhilarating run. Tail streaming like a banner behind him, his hooves pounded the earth and flew across the ground. Neither of his lovely mares cared much for running so he had left them safe and secure, hidden well away in this rough country; but perhaps his first daughter Pandala may like to race the wind with him when she was old enough. But for now, the joy and freedom that he found in his speed was his alone to experience. It reminded him of when he had been a captive horse, tame by no means but with the will to run inside him. Now he was up in the clear mountain air, with no heavy man on his back to check his pace, running had more meaning than just the thrilling pace. It was life, and freedom.
He came to a sliding holt when the softest of nickers met his ears, and he swivelled them around, curiously trying to find where the quiet voice had come from. He sniffed the air through wide nostrils, and caught only the faintest hint of brumby. And then a shrill whinny rang out, echoing wildly through the surrounding valleys. Now snorting excitedly, Burrello pawed the ground before starting to climb up the slope from where that enticing call had come from. Nimbly he dodged around fallen trees and rotten logs as he climbed up and up the side of the steep valley. He was blowing hard when he reached the top, and took a few moments to catch his breath before trotting purposefully on.
And there, through the trees and dappled by sunlight was a gleaming chestnut filly the colour of the sun. Her mane and tail were silky and she had the petite form of a dancer. Her dishy face and elegant physique clearly showed that she was at least part Arabian, just like himself. He half reared playfully; showing off ever so slightly, and let out a trumpeting call to answer her own, praying that he would not scare her off. He knew about what humans treasured in their breed and she would have easily been considered magnificent. When he dropped back to the ground he trotted through the remaining trees so he could see her more clearly, and threw up his head in a proud gesture. He let out a deep, welcoming nicker and extended his black muzzle in greeting. |
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Post by Rivre on Jul 21, 2009 6:37:31 GMT
As the gales blew again, to wisp the tassels of her crimson mane up around her flickering lobes, she caught an answer to her wild, challenging, call; the pale leaves of the silvering barks, seeming to open before her, revealing their shadowy captive.
She stepped back a few floating paces, head thrown up in a manner of stubbornness, disturbing the wattle flower, branches snapping to her hide as he trotted towards her. It was amusing to say the least, to see that he carried the same blood as her, his muscular black fissure and slender ebony limbs, not to mention the dishing of his partially white skull; throwing her head a little in excitement, prancing on her toes, as she too, extended her quivering earthy muzzle, to touch his own velvet one.
"Greetings stallion of shadows, for what are you named?" she queried, eyeing him with a slightly spectacle glint to her deep brown orbs, the curvature of her neck allowing her room to tuck her dainty head into her chest cavity, ears trained on the creature before her; with nostrils dilated, she pirouetted neatly on her heels, throwing another short call over her shoulder, as she sprung into a joyous canter, leaping from their little flat, and into the open air.
She did not know if it were luck, or her rather exceptional memory, that allowed her to land, rather precariously, on a much smaller rocky spur below, body pressed against the sheer cliff, but heart pounding with excitement, as once more she searched. Yes, directly below, lay another of the neat crevices, and underneath that yet another; continuing their wayward pattern until reaching the grassy glade below.
Calling mockingly to the surely quizzical stallion, she prepared herself to spring, releasing her clenched muscles, and skidding to halt on the second perch. Pursing the shaly track, leaping, clenching, skidding, sliding - right until her hooves touched the springy snowgrass of the glade below, rearing playfully as she threw her head to the skys, looking for him, the black stallion.
As she waited, dropping quietly back to all-fours, she peered slowly around the new area, the candlebark forest, and collection of laughing gang gangs, causing her to shy a little, the rough pebbles under-hoof clattering as she found herself on the shore of a tiny creek. Looking around once more as a precaution, she dropped her lips to the cool waters, slurping soundlessly, the tiny rivulets of vapor, caught like buds upon her short whiskers - blowing loudly through her nasal passages and snorting she threw them away, hooves slipping slightly on the incline, to greet the cold depths.
After having satisfied her thirst, she began to nibble thoughtlessly as the sweet grass, eyes however, skillfully tracking the movements of the black; once or twice she delivered her call,
"It is I! Arrellah, named for the world dance" just to ensure he did not loose moral in finding her. Then would extend her greeting, and ensue eating the lush stems.
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Post by Ehetere on Jul 23, 2009 6:10:53 GMT
"Greetings stallion of shadows, for what are you named?" replied the fiery chestnut, with a glint in her eyes to match her coat. A mare of flames through and through then. Then she way away; faster than the raging flames of a bushfire and with the grace of a dancer over the snowgrass, an enticing call being left in her wake. And then she sprang into open space and disappeared.
Burrello snorted in surprise and shook his head as if he didn’t believe his own eyes. What sort of mare would just jump into thin air and then vanish? Perhaps she was indeed a spirit of fire summoned up to lead him to his death. But no, Burrello’s imagination had gotten away from him, and all of the mystique and wonder of the High Country had gone to his head for a second, because there was the chestnut dancer, clinging to a ledge on the cliff just below the edge. Her challenging call echoed up to him and with one last daring glance she sprang down again, to what must be another little ledge. Burrello snorted again. He had two mares and a foal to take care of. But there was still the restless, daring spirit that burned within him and urged him to accept the mare’s challenge. And who knows, he might even win her heart if he managed to complete it. So forgetting about responsibility, he leapt over the edge into uncertainty.
He landed shakily, and it only then occurred to him that two horses landing heavily on the ledges might loosen them from the rock enough to send him or the chestnut mare tumbling down… But it was too late now, and he would have to go on. Burrello closely watched and followed what the mare was doing, copying her every move perfectly. His experience with leaping helped him immensely, and it occurred to him that he needed to explore the country more so that he would know which places would give him an advantage over other stallions or men.
He was about half way down when the little mare reached the bottom, and Burrello stopped in his descent to watch her dance and rear, proclaiming her victory, or perhaps encouraging him to go on. But for now, he was on his own to get down this slope. His concentration increased even more as he gracefully arched through the air and slightly less gracefully landed on the next ledge. The mare had disappeared from view, and although he wanted to go faster, he did not want to jeopardise his care, lest it send him tumbling to his death. As he neared the bottom, the mare threw up the occasional encouragement to him, and this made Burrello want to go faster each time. "It is I! Arrellah, named for the world dance" proclaimed the mare from down below, and although he longed to answer her, he knew that now was not the right moment.
Once he was on the final ledge he really did go for it, cantering swiftly but with dignity as humans had taught him and making one last flying leap onto steady ground at least. Shaking out his silky mane, he stood up proudly and whinnied joyfully, doing a few dancing steps of the dancing mare.
“And it is I, Burrello, for the North Wind,” he murmured, gently pacing over to where she stood, “And it could only be a mare of fire and dance to lead a stallion on such a perilous climb.”
OOC: Here you go; reply finally done. Sorry for the agonisingly long wait *bashes faily computer* Hope it makes up for it ^^ |
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Post by Rivre on Jul 23, 2009 8:39:12 GMT
As the proud black mass of horse and shaly rock finally quitted the ledge, she allowed herself time once again to dance for him, observing with wonder as he queried over her reasoning; all the while, hooves beating out a rhythm on the hard ground.
"It was for the wild thrill which I chose to leap - it was not in my doing that you should have followed, but gracious that you did O' black stallion Burrello" she nickered, the heather which seemed so odd in contrast to the softly swaying snowgrass, picking out neat crevices in which to hide among it's cousins.
"It has also, regrettably, been some time since I was in the company of other horses - my fiery hide a prize for most stallion, I chose my timing well, did I not?"
As she spoke, the bars of sunlight which managed to creep soundlessly over the harsh ridges, met her canvas, and suddenly she was on fire. Quite aware of her golden appearance, she thought of yet another game. Turning once again, she burst into a canter, the snowgums widely spaced enough that glimpses of her crimson self were visible as she wound her way through the bush, her circular motion, bringing her to a halt; her angle bringing him a full side-view of her diaphragm, the clearing full of her perpetual fire.
"Tell me now, that I am not a whisper of times long gone. Tell me now that I am a treasure long lost. Tell me now, that I may run with you a time, my shadowy friend - for in contrast you will hide me, for in contrast you will ease the heat and molten flame which runs through my veins, in contrast I shall love, and you shall cherish. In longing, I will run, and in longing you will run also - for I shall not live forever." Speaking as though from some miles away, her tones of seductive willingness echoed strangely throughout the odd valley, mane spraying up like the untamable monster itself, as the rough gales did blow from the rocky tors up high.
Giving him side-long glance, she finally ensued herself time to admire his looks; the curvature of his proud neck, the sleekness of his pitch wrapping, the pearl-like quality of his tasseled banner and the smoothness of his gait, so like hers, for the blood of their ancestors. Their breed was particularly sough after among men, but because she also carried the traits of the mustang, her stamina and strength were either increased or depleted, she had never quite understood the quarreling of men.
(Sorry for the length of this, there isn't much I could work with for Arrellah - she thinks too much of herself xD) [/font]
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Post by Ehetere on Jul 28, 2009 7:35:13 GMT
"It was for the wild thrill which I chose to leap - it was not in my doing that you should have followed, but gracious that you did O' black stallion Burrello. It has also, regrettably, been some time since I was in the company of other horses - my fiery hide a prize for most stallions, I chose my timing well, did I not?" replied Arrellah, as the sun lit her coat turning it to golden fire. Burrello stood and watched, quite unable to move his limbs, as he watched the sunlight play over her coat. The she bolted away into the bush, and Burrello was about to charge after her, when his ears detected that she was not leaving, merely circling around until she came to a sliding halt; her coat so bright that it almost pained him to look at it.
"Tell me now, that I am not a whisper of times long gone. Tell me now that I am a treasure long lost. Tell me now, that I may run with you a time, my shadowy friend - for in contrast you will hide me, for in contrast you will ease the heat and molten flame which runs through my veins, in contrast I shall love, and you shall cherish. In longing, I will run, and in longing you will run also - for I shall not live forever." Her voice echoed strangely, and the noises of the bush seemed to dim just so that she could speak.
“You are indeed a prize; more so than many a stallion would care to realise. A mare of such fire and spirit and dance is a rare thing indeed, and I would be a fool not to realise that. It is something I would acre for, nurture, protect with my life. It is something I would fight for; something I would die for. As for running, well,” chuckled Burrello, although his speech was in all seriousness, “Running is forever.” |
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Post by Rivre on Jul 28, 2009 11:55:07 GMT
“You are indeed a prize; more so than many a stallion would care to realise. A mare of such fire and spirit and dance is a rare thing indeed, and I would be a fool not to realise that. It is something I would acre for, nurture, protect with my life. It is something I would fight for; something I would die for. As for running, well,” he paused, his chuckle causing the very hair on her back stand on end, "Running is forever".
Eyeing him with careful curiosity, she nodded her approval, legs swinging out a stride as she wove her way back to him, the wattle and heather thicket brushing meekly beside her, all pretense gone from her fissure, she ambled forwards, quite soundless, quite careful, quite glowing - to touch her velvet nose to his own sleek black one. Although she was sweating from the long trek down the perilous cliff, as their skin met, a tingle began to pace her spine, sending a chill throughout her being.
"I am yours, as the sun is mine." she whispered, nipping his shoulder gently in a gesture of giving. "How wise your words are, but let us not waste our forever, lest our freedom, for men scout these parts. From here I know there to be a valley, secret, enough to hold at least five horses. Grazing should be plentiful at this time of year."
The scent of pine wafted lazily to her nostrils, snorting as she threw up her head, lobes flickering; either the whip birds were calling or the men had begun their drive.
"Perhaps to where your herd resides?" she queried, again to look over her shoulder at the steep incline of bolder-like rocks.
OOC| Sorry it's so short.
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Post by Ehetere on Aug 6, 2009 6:50:33 GMT
Burrello shivered with pleasure as she accepted to being in his herd. How odd it was to be in brumby country, yet to have collected three mares who had either been tame or came from tame mothers. Arrellah’s valley sounded perfect; and it would do him well to lay low at least until spring when he had enough strength to protect his mares from other stallions.
He had not even really considered his herd in all of this, and how they would react to having a new member. Still; a stallion was meant to collect a band of mares, they couldn’t expect to be the only ones forever. But still, he was quite sure he had enough mares now - lest he get beaten and killed for them.
“True; your valley sounds like just the place for us. We will have to go and get my other two mares and daughter first though,” he said thoughtfully, hoping that Loora hadn’t caused any trouble in his absence. Pandala; his daughter, was almost as much trouble as her mother, if not more so, and leaving them alone for any length of time could have serious repercussions.
“Come,” said Burrello, nudging her gently on the shoulder, “Run with me back to my other mares and then you can lead us to your valley.” And with that, he was off; racing back the way he’d come from. He threw a ringing neigh to the wide open sky; to hear it echo and reverberate around the whole valley. It was a call not only to his newest mare, but also to his little band who were waiting for him. It was telling them he was coming home. |
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Post by Rivre on Aug 8, 2009 15:34:43 GMT
Eyeing him with her own quiet cunning, she tossed her banner of silver fire wickedly, dagger-like hooves pawing uncertainly at the grass stems under-hoof, a look of quizzical beauty smeared upon her lineaments, as she nickered softly in return to his cry. As he tore away from her side, black against the stark heavens, she felt her own limbs fill with a careless joy, launching herself after him, churning up a path across the secret glade. If a man were to look down at that very moment, he would have seen a prize indeed; a stallion of wild dark fury, along with his mare, a flame unable to be extinguished; her trail left for all to see, only to vanish as if melted away, into the pale forest of the silent silver horses.
As she galloped up the rocky incline, the wattle snapping harsh to her hide, she became aware of how very open this place was, to tear up this hillside, was to ask for the company of man; throwing her dishy skull she screamed a mares challenge to the hunter, for if the men were to find her, it would be with reckless style with which she were to escape.
"Find me, and call me yours, find me, then watch me run."
She had waited so long for the company of others horses, but as she cavorted her way after her newly-found stallion, she wondered, if perhaps, she were a mare, meant to be free, and born of the wild fire dance. It was true, nature was beauty, but it was also freedom; and hers, was a freedom she would sacrifice only for the love of a horse.
The shaly rock track seemed a much more welcome-a-way to travel back to Burrello's herd, the spurs of rock which jutted at odd angles from the cliff, had rung with the sound of her hooves, but this, only if she lost her footing, which, in retrospect, seemed unlikely, she could go as soundlessly and as carefree, as she did so wish.
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