one unborn, [R]

[Corowa]

The brumby mare and yearling grazed in the deep hollow, where good grass grew and they were sheltered by snowgums. When men had come searching for wild horses, Myrrina had led her son down and away into the tall trees of the lower country. Werrilah only half-remembered the brumby drive, but he pressed close to Myrrina, moved soundlessly and without track, much as his mother had taught. She had touched her soft nose to Tingara’s, told him she would return when the wind gusted strongly from the south, when even the mighty rivers of the high country were stilled by the bitter cold. And it was when those snow-whirling winds called them, would Myrrina and her queer white son, return. Then in the night, when the grassy flat had been bathed in moonlight, the shadowy mares and foals scattered around its fringes, they had left.

Myrrina stood with ears pricked, for a moment; sure, she had seen movement in the snowgums. Werrilah came to stand beside her, and he nibbled on her mane, nipped her playfully when she swished her tail and flattened her ears. The uppermost snowgums, growing on this wide slope of ridge, swayed in the wind, and Myrrina found herself suddenly restless. She was unable to stand still, and paced to and fro, stopping every now and then to throw up her head and listen. Werrilah began to feel uneasy too, and he leapt nervously away, as Myrrina gave a sudden, high-pitched neigh. “What is it mother?” he asked, coming to stand beside her, as he peered through the trunks of the trees. Myrrina swung around with a grunting squeal, and nipped at her flanks. “It is nothing,” she said. “I am sore and aching all over. The foal moves about strongly, and kicks roughly as its brother.”

Werrilah gave a loud snort of surprise. No more than a yearling, the colt had not wondered where it was foals came from. He knew only that mares went away and then returned, a limber-limbed foal pressed close to their side. Now Werrilah tossed his head, stared hard at his mother, her sides heavy with foal. His ears twitched, and he extended his nose, touched it shyly to her sweaty flank. When there was the slightest movement beneath his touch, the colt leapt sharply backwards, felt himself trembling all over with both fear and excitement. Myrrina remained quite still, stood and watched him; ears pricked curiously forwards, nostrils quivering with a soft nicker. Reassured by his mother’s indifference, Werrilah nosed the snowgrass at his feet, and dropped his head to graze. And all the while, Myrrina stood, half-dozing in the moonlight, feeling a sudden deep affection for this queer white son of hers.

[tingara]

As soon as he had seen that she was missing the black stallion had sought her out like a wraith in the dark. Tingara stayed hidden as he sought out where Myrrina had gone. It was not because he was paranoid about her leaving again to seek out Nevada (even though he had every right to be) it was because he worried about her wellbeing whenever the two of them were parted. And now that the union of another dance had left her heavy with foal he was even more worried than normal. He didn’t dare the think what he’d be like when she left to give birth.

It wasn’t soon before long his brown eyes spotted the blue and white mare through the black sallee trees.The black stallion whickered to the mare softly from his cover before emerging proudly through the undergrowth. First he greeted his white son before he greeted his mate. ”What is it that brings you out here, dear Myrrina?” he asked softly, greeting her properly with an affectionate nuzzle. Tingara ran his soft muzzle over the mare’s spine, taking tremendous care when it passed over her swollen belly. He could see the foal within moving which made his eyes widen. Even in all his years of being a sire the site of a foal moving about inside its mother still made him stare in awe.

”It won’t be long now,” he said happily, touching noses with Myrrina. He had no doubt that the next foal would be as beautiful and strong as its mother, if Werrilah was anything to go by. Already he was growing into a handsome young horse, one whom most certainly the fillies of the High Country would adore.

[yaruka]

She'd been bored. That's how Boorana was explaining having come here. To herself at least, there was no one else around to ask about it. She had to admit though, she was kind of regretting having wandered away from the herd. But life in the main valley was pretty dull and predictable, especially now that the young colt Werrilah had left with his mother. She had to admit she'd been quite jealous that the colt got to leave the main hub of the herd, go wandering in the bush, when she was always stuck with the mundane everyday life in a large herd. In the end she hadn't been able to resist leaving to seek her own adventures, somewhere more exciting than the heart of Yarraman's Valley. That had been this morning. But why then was she now inexplicably drawn to this quiet side of the valley, a darker, unpopulated corner of the great Yarraman's territory? If she was going in search of fun she was definately heading in the wrong direction.

For some strange reason she couldn't quite explain to herself, Boorana felt as if she needed to be here tonight. If this feeling was odd enough in itself, what was even stranger, was that Boorana had heeded it, had for once complied with strange inner instincts rather than bolted off on first whim. Boorana was impulsive, not relflective. Trotting through the dense undergrowth around the valley Boorana shook her head. She was being stupid. Clearly she had heard about something of interest down here, perhaps dreamt of it even, so she would go down, have a look and then be on her merry way.

Finally, the thick cover of the low hanging branches gave way to more light, the full moon illuminating the valley more brightly than was typical at night. Boorana felt her pulse quicken and she stepped up the pace, she was close, so close, to finding what had called her here. Suddenly she heard the low murmur of voices and her smoky coloured ears flicked back uneasily. She was a lone filly, unprotected and young, it would not do to stumble on some rogue stallion. But almost immediately she brightened, she recognized that voice-it was Tingara, though why he was down here she could not imagine. Too bad she was in the wrong direction to smell anything. Slipping through the dark brush silent and unseen, she rounded the little miniature valley until finally she saw a break in the trees. Peering through she nearly gasped aloud at what she saw, for it seemed she had discovered the secret behind Myrinna and Werrilah's disappearance this morning. They were here with Tingara, the white colt looking all the more spectacular (though Boorana would never tell him) for the moonlight which shone so brightly on his pale coat. A rush of excitement ran through the filly's veins as she watched the other horses, silent, hardly daring to breathe. As long as she stayed in the trees they would be unable to see her, for her dusky coat blended in perfectly in the dark brush. This was certainly more exciting than sleeping by her sisters and the herd! A moonlight meeting! Though she had not been invited herself it was still fun to imagine that the other horses had some secret business here that she alone had discovered. Not that Boorana really cared why the others were here, she was just happy to have found something to do, and company, of sorts. What Boorana hated most of all was being alone.

But the highly strung filly soon became bored with being a spy. It wasn't all the gangs-gangs cracked it up to be. Sighing, she was about to turn and go off in search of something else to do when an idea suddenly came to her. Tingara and Myrinna were engrossed with each other, why not see if she could try and catch Werrilah's attention? He would come with her, she was sure of it. The white colt was always game for a good run.

So, she moved ever so quietly through the brush towards where the colt stood, getting as close to him as she dared while Myrinna and Tingara were still nearby. And then she nickered to him, a sweet, inviting sound for him alone. And hopefully he alone would hear it. Then the smoky filly melted backwards into the brush to wait and watch.

OOC: haha, it's all over the place and well, odd. Sorry, it's the best I could come up with at the mo' :/

[Corowa]

Myrrina had begun to feel uneasy, and presently there was the swish of branches, the sound of something moving quietly through the snowgums. The mare felt her hide prickle with the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, and backed hastily away into the shelter of ti-tree and candleheath, remained completely still, too nervous to move. Werrilah, who had never known what it was to be afraid, threw a sudden throbbing call to the stillness of the night, a challenge to whoever it was that watched from the trees. The yearling stared intently at a clump of snowgums, which grew among the rocks, and suddenly the shadows of the snowgums moved, became a proud looking stallion, then no more than a snowgum branch, a mossy rock again.

Werrilah stood then, breathless with a feeling of dread, of a cold sweat that broke out behind his ears and made the blood pound wildly in his veins. The light of the full moon moved over the upmost snowgums, and Werrilah could see the stallion, no more than a dark shadow in the blackness of the night. Suddenly, terribly afraid, the colt began to back quietly away. The shadow crept closer and Werrilah started with sudden surprise, as behind him there came Myrrina’s glad neigh. As Tingara stepped from the trees, Myrrina felt her heart beat faster with mad excitement. For in the bars of moonlight streaming through the leaves of the snowgums, Werrilah was splendid as sunlight glistening over snow, shining brilliantly in the darkness. White colt stood, nose to nose with the shadowy figure of a stallion, every lovely line of them outlined by the pale light of the moon.

Myrrina gave a wondering sort of sigh, as Tingara let his nose move over her back and full sides in the most tender of caresses. She trembled beneath his touch, turned to nibble on his shoulder, glad for his companionship in the silence of the night. “I told you why I had gone,” she said, and gave him a swift nip, for she sensed his worry as if it were her own. “Though you have many mares and fillies now, so I am not surprised you had forgotten.” Myrrina wondered if those shadowy mares and fillies were sheltered somewhere close, or if they stood and waited the return of their stallion on the wide grassy plain of Yarraman’s Valley. The mare shivered, for surely no other stallion would be so foolish as to steal the herd of the King of the Cascade brumbies. And on a night such as this, when all was silent and even the bush seemed strange and hushed.

“I thought you were Nevada,” the mare said then, looking over to Werrilah, who nibbled at the snowgrass. She wondered if the yearling even remembered the furious grey stallion. Did he think it no more than a dream of wind-whirled snow, of a fierce winter storm, to be forgotten as snow melts in the spring? Myrrina could never forget, would always remember the terrible loneliness when she realised Tingara might never return for her, even as she knew she wanted to run with him for as long as life lasted. “I was so worried,” she went on, so quietly only this stallion who stood so close could hear. “I could not even think to call Werrilah away as I should have. I could do nothing but hide and wait.”

While mare and stallion greeted each other with the warmth of their affection, Werrilah drifted towards the trees, grazing his way purposefully forwards. Beneath the sharp scent of eucalypt, which rose around them, there lingered something much fainter, so faint the colt wondered whether he had dreamt it. He strained his eyes to pick out movement between the trees, stood staring into the darkness. Then his ears flicked forwards, and his nostrils quivered with excitement. Werrilah heard the soft call of the filly, and every nerve tingled, so he very much wanted to run. The colt trembled all over, torn between finding the filly that had called so provocatively, and his love for Myrrina and Tingara. Filled with all the longing of a young stallion, Werrilah gave a swift answer, wove a promise of madly galloping through the night, of tearing winds and swirling snow. Then he stepped lightly through the snowgums, threaded his way through, to where the wattle grew, and the sweet scent of those yellow blossoms seemed to fill the air.

OOC: Ok, hopefully no one can miss what’s been said. Also, it’s supposed to have been one or two nights since they went. Can we just pretend as if it has?

[yaruka]

OOC: Caity had mentioned about a week ago that we could skip her turn if she got too busy to reply, plus this reply doesn't really interfere with Myrinna and Tingara so I just went ahead and posted.

Boorana's ears flew flickered forwards to catch the colt's reply, excitement coursing through her veins at his wordless promise so that she might have called out, if it wouldn't have ruined her game to do so. Trembling now with surpressed energy she waited for the white colt to appear.

Werrilah came through the trees like a ghost horse in the duskiness of the night. As his blurred outline approached Boorana gave another soft nicker before spinning about and trotting through the thick grove of snowgums, legs lifted high and proudly, yet somehow still making no sound.

When the filly reached the outskirts of the trees she stopped and waited for the colt, impatient in the moment of her thrill. When Werrilah drew near enough she reached out her velvet muzzle, nostrils quivering delicately, to softly brush his nose, before ducking her head and giving him a sharp but playful nip on his ivory shoulder. Then she spun about, calling an invitation over her shoulder, before leaping into a gallop across a springy expanse of snow grass.

Dark legs churning beneath her, she revelled in the pull of her muscles, in the feeling of the wind blowing through her silken mane and tail. Careless, she raced to the middle of the small flat, giving a sharp buck when she felt the tingling sensation of being exposed for all the world to see. The filly then reared up, twirling and spinning with the ebb and flow of the breeze, her mane and tail dark whisps floating out behind her, like the smoke for which she had been named.


OOC: ugh, it's ok. It took me so long, and usually Boorana's so easy to rp!!

[Corowa]

Werrilah stopped, threw up his head and stood with nostrils quivering, every part of him desperately searching for something he only half-understood. Somewhere in the blackness of this night was Boorana, and Werrilah gave a throbbing neigh and cantered swiftly after the filly. On over the rough timber, branches and logs unseen in the night, on through the ghostly forest of snowgums, those spreading branches and wide trunks shadowy in the darkness. Once through the trees he glimpsed Boorana, and the filly propped to a standstill, whirled about as he neared her to give him a playful nip. Then she gathered herself and sprang away, only to stop suddenly in a snowgrass glade. Werrilah trembled with excitement to see her standing there, so beautiful in the moonlight, and then he stepped proudly from the snowgums, splendid as the snow of winter.

Werrilah squealed and went up on his hind legs beside the brown filly. The light of the full moon glistened brilliantly in the hairs of his mane and tail, for all the light seemed to concentrate on this splendid, glistening colt as he pranced forwards in a graceful levade. Then, as the wind stirred in the snowgum leaves, Werrilah dropped to the ground, and danced in a wide circle around the filly. In this glade of snowgrass, outlined by the moon, the white colt wove a dance for Boorana, bound the filly to him with the promise of a bond strong as the mighty mountain rivers. And while he danced, Werrilah was not the colt who had once stood at Myrrina’s side, for in these light, graceful movements, the colt was a stallion, claiming his mate. Then the dance ended, and he could feel himself tremble at peaceful stillness of the bush, for never had he been more aware of himself than in this one moment.

“Boorana,” he said softly, touched his nose to hers. Finally, the prize had been won, and Werrilah knew, while other fillies may perhaps run with him, this brown filly, would always be his. “You are a filly of the night, and so it is by the moonlight I have claimed you,” he said, feeling a shiver run through him. In this moment, he wondered if he had dreamt this queer dance, for bathed in the pale light of the moon, Boorana seemed no more than a lissom wraith, too beautiful to be of flesh and blood. The colt turned to nibble on her shoulder in the gentlest of caresses; let his nose move about her ears, feeling her warm beneath his touch. Werrilah felt deeply within himself, a stirring of wonderment, and unable to contain himself, the colt threw a tremendous cry to the night sky. And so the colt stood, listening to the echo of this great, challenging cry, which hardly seemed to come from him, but instead from the stallion he would one day become.