Post by stormsnow on Sept 8, 2009 20:48:45 GMT
Anybody with a stallion or colt, feel free to post here! ;D
A black shape was trotting along an open plain in the Brolga's country.
Hard muscles showed beneath a beautiful black coat, and wild brown eyes stared determinedly ahead.
Let us pretend, for a moment, that you are a bird, looking down at this young horse. At first, looking from above at the well built, sinewy body, one would assume that this was a handsome black colt. If one looked this young brumby in the face, however, they would see that this was a tough-looking filly.
Rain, driven by the wind, stung Pengana's flanks as she ran across an open plain, toward a large grove of trees. Her mane and tail were streaming out behind her like banners, making her look more wild than she usually did.
The filly was only two years old, but she possessed both beauty that astounded some brumbies and impressed others. But, against her instincts, she was racing the wind and rain, in full sight of any stallion who might try to get her for his herd. She already belonged to Coabar, and she had no wish to become a part of a strange stallion's herd.
She had heard, from the gang-gangs and cockatoos, that her father, a great bay stallion, was dead. She had never really loved him, because he had proclaimed her bad luck from the day she was born- despite the fact that her mother had been his favourite mare.
Her mother had died giving birth to her. A black hawk had been hovering above the scene, and Pengana's father named his daughter after it and declared her a bad omen. Then he had handed her over to one of his least valuable mares, and as soon as she could eat grass, abandoned her.
She was going to see his body, before the flies, beetles, and maggots did their work on it. And nothing was going to stop her. Nothing. Now she had reached the edge of the plain, and trotted into the grove, her heart pounding from her long run.
She saw her father's body immediately. Rushing over to it, she inhaled deeply, breathing in his long- forgotten scent. A blow to his head, with dried blood crusted on it- now a little damp from the rain that filtered in through the treetops-proved to have been his downfall.
Snuffling about with her large nose almost touching the ground, Pengana found the smells of his herd, who had undoubtedly departed with their new leader. Then she picked up a fresh scent, the scent of a stallion, and heard a loud rustling directly in front of her. . .
A black shape was trotting along an open plain in the Brolga's country.
Hard muscles showed beneath a beautiful black coat, and wild brown eyes stared determinedly ahead.
Let us pretend, for a moment, that you are a bird, looking down at this young horse. At first, looking from above at the well built, sinewy body, one would assume that this was a handsome black colt. If one looked this young brumby in the face, however, they would see that this was a tough-looking filly.
* * * * * * * * *
Rain, driven by the wind, stung Pengana's flanks as she ran across an open plain, toward a large grove of trees. Her mane and tail were streaming out behind her like banners, making her look more wild than she usually did.
The filly was only two years old, but she possessed both beauty that astounded some brumbies and impressed others. But, against her instincts, she was racing the wind and rain, in full sight of any stallion who might try to get her for his herd. She already belonged to Coabar, and she had no wish to become a part of a strange stallion's herd.
She had heard, from the gang-gangs and cockatoos, that her father, a great bay stallion, was dead. She had never really loved him, because he had proclaimed her bad luck from the day she was born- despite the fact that her mother had been his favourite mare.
Her mother had died giving birth to her. A black hawk had been hovering above the scene, and Pengana's father named his daughter after it and declared her a bad omen. Then he had handed her over to one of his least valuable mares, and as soon as she could eat grass, abandoned her.
She was going to see his body, before the flies, beetles, and maggots did their work on it. And nothing was going to stop her. Nothing. Now she had reached the edge of the plain, and trotted into the grove, her heart pounding from her long run.
She saw her father's body immediately. Rushing over to it, she inhaled deeply, breathing in his long- forgotten scent. A blow to his head, with dried blood crusted on it- now a little damp from the rain that filtered in through the treetops-proved to have been his downfall.
Snuffling about with her large nose almost touching the ground, Pengana found the smells of his herd, who had undoubtedly departed with their new leader. Then she picked up a fresh scent, the scent of a stallion, and heard a loud rustling directly in front of her. . .
