the vanished, [R]

[Corowa]

In a stand of stringybarks, a mare quietly grazed. She lifted her head and looked nervously towards where her foal lay sleeping in the snowgrass. Coorabin was stretched out on his side, and he stirred when she nosed him. The colt blinked and looked drowsily about himself. Only half-awake, the colt gave a wondering sort of sigh and then lay back down. Warridanga nudged him with her soft nose, reassured he was truly hers. He looked so very small, and the mare sometimes worried he would vanish into the bush and she would be alone once more. She was fascinated by her newborn foal, for the mare was only young, and the feelings he stirred within her were both queer and exciting.

The mare gave a snort, and then dropped her head to nibble on the snowgrass. However, she found herself so restless with longing she could barely stand still. Her hide prickled uneasily, and she tossed up her head, and looked to the foal in the snowgrass. The sunlight glistened brilliantly in the golden hairs of his mane and tail, and the mare thought him splendid indeed. Her ears flicked back and forth, and Warridanga purposefully grazed her way towards a belt of timber, where the ti tree and rough stringybarks thinned. The mare sighed deeply, suddenly filled with such sadness and loss. Then she turned, and walked back to where her foal lay sleeping still. Warridanga nudged him suddenly and urgently, feeling within herself some terrible sense of dread.

The colt stood for one moment, swaying on legs he had not yet mastered. Then his mother nickered, and Coorabin walked unsteadily forwards. Warridanga swung around to urge him on, but the colt squealed in protest, for he suddenly found himself so tired he could hardly stand. The young mare nickered again, and his soft nose bumped her flank as he thrust his head under to drink. Coorabin nursed for only a short while, but even the warmth of his mother’s milk could not give him comfort. The colt was unable to remain standing, and he dropped down into the deep sleep of young ones. Warridanga looked on worriedly, and then with the tenderest of caresses, touched her nose to the sleeping foal.

OOC: For Burrello and Warridanga only.

[Ehetere]

A black stallion paced slowly through the trees beside the bubbling Crackenback; its waters flowing fast from the melting snow. Birdsong was in the air, and the dappled sunshine gave the country a magical feel. It was a great day to be alive.

Burrello was looking for one of his mares, his secret favourite - Warridanga. He knew that she would have had her foal, and that she most likely wanted to be left in privacy, but he was worried. She was a young mare, and this would be her child. Burrello simply could not stay and wait to see what had become of her and their foal.

He had left his other two mares, Loora and Arrellah nearby in a sheltered grove early that morning to go searching and so far he only had a few tracks and snatches of scent to indicate that Warridanga might be near. He could not pretend to be a wild horse, with years of experience under his hooves. He was a fast learner, but he doubted whether he would ever be as good at tracking as the other brumbies were.

After hours of aimless wandering Burrello was beginning to get hot, bothered and more concerned by the minute. The fact that he could not find his mare was a small comfort, but it was countered by the concern as to why he could not find her. She may have just hidden herself well to ensure her safety with her first foal, or something that Burrello did not even want to contemplate may have befallen her. He quickened his stride and risked a call to her, ignoring the fact that it would alert any nearby stallion to his presence, and that it was potentially asking for trouble. It was spring after all; the time when stallions fought one another for mares.

So far he had been lucky, and avoided any fights with older or more powerful stallions, but with his herd increasing in size with each passing season it seemed, he was becoming increasingly paranoid about being targeted by other stallions. Because he knew all too well that his mares were all desirable. Warridanga in particular had him worried. Her exotic coat would tempt any colt or stallion. He called out again; louder this time, desperate to find his favourite mare.

[Corowa]

Warridanga stood and rested in the warm bars of sunlight. The young mare stirred nervously when a wattlebird gave its harsh cry from the low clump of mimosa. Just at that moment, there came a great trumpeting call, and the mare started badly in fright. The whites showed in her eyes as she tossed up her head and listened with ears pricked forwards. And Warridanga could feel something move deep within her, for she realised it was Burrello, searching for his missing mare. Warridanga trembled all over with a profound longing, and then, quite unable to contain herself, she gave a ringing neigh. Then she turned and roughly nosed Coorabin, so the foal awoke with a sleepy squeal of protest.

Warridanga could feel herself filled with some restless excitement, and when Coorabin stood and tried to drink, she swung her haunches about and struck out with her hind leg. The foal clung close to her side as the mare pushed on through the whippy saplings and scrubby timber. His legs were unsteady, and once or twice, he almost fell. Warridanga hurried down a narrow and shaly track. Warridanga stopped quite suddenly, and turned to her chestnut foal. She snuffled him anxiously all over, and nosed the foal towards her bulging teats. Coorabin propped and shied away, for he remembered how she had driven him off. Insistent, Warridanga nudged him harder, and the foal finally thrust his head under her flank.

The mare nibbled on the snowgrass, suddenly aware of how dreadfully still the bush had grown. She could feel the sweat break out behind her ears, as from further down the roughly timbered flat, there came some sound of movement. Coorabin looked up at her curiously, for he sensed both her excitement and anxiety, and he wondered at it. The mare barely seemed to notice him as she hurried on through the stand of eucalypts. Only when his shoulder bumped her flank, did Warridanga remember the foal. Here the encircling stringybarks thinned, and the mare gave a glad neigh as she finally saw him, his head held high and mane and tail lifted by a light wind. Then Warridanga walked towards him, walked on with that proud, swinging carriage, while Coorabin followed strongly at her side.

She was truly beautiful in her joy, a young mare and her newborn son. She looked at him earnestly a moment, before she stepped forwards to greet him. The mare nibbled fondly on his shoulder, and then swung around to touch his nose to hers. Coorabin moved anxiously at her side, and Warridanga turned and nickered encouragement. She breathed in deeply, and trembled at the intensity of her feelings. “This is Coorabin,” she said shyly, as she gently nudged him out from her side. The foal stood on splayed legs, with ears sharply pricked and nostrils quivering. His chestnut coat glistened brightly in the sunlight, and Warridanga found herself filled with such tenderness for this firstborn son of hers.

[Ehetere]

Burrello’s ears pricked up excitedly as Warridanga’s familiar call answered his own, and relief washed over him. Misfortune had not befallen the gleaming mare - and hopefully their new foal. He set off at a brisk trot in the direction of her voice - anxious to see her again. He threaded through the bush, no longer caring about being silent. He felt suddenly sure in himself that he would fight off any threat in his way.

He spotted a shining coat between the trunks and gave a glad trumpeting neigh as she stepped out into the open with a chestnut foal at her flank. He dropped his head and offered a soft nicker of greeting to the little colt in an effort not to startle the little thing. Warridanga was looking even more radiant than usual, and Burrello knew it had been the right decision to come and find her. He did not want to risk losing her to some roaming stallion.

Burrello responded lovingly to the mare’s attentions, glad to be breathing in her scent again. Burrello nodded wisely as Warridanga introduced their son; Coorabin. Burrello already felt a strong fatherly bond with the chestnut - maybe it was because he was his firstborn son; he did not know. He lipped Coorabin’s ears in a showing of affection, amazed at the second time in his life about exactly how fragile and tiny foals were.

“He is magnificent, as are you,” praised Burrello, his eyes shining in admiration at the pair. The miracle of birth and new life truly was incredible.

[Corowa]

Warridanga was bursting with pride. Her first foal was strong and handsome with his bright chestnut coat and queer white face. More than that, she had found Burrello and perhaps also his small mob of mares, and he had greeted their foal with such gentleness. The mare whickered contentedly, and rested her head on the stallion’s withers, a sign of unspoken trust and affection. Each time she looked at him, she felt something stir deep within her, a reassurance, which told her she belonged to Burrello and would belong to him for as long as she lived.

Coorabin squealed and presented his rear to the stallion. There was the thump of his hooves as he kicked out, and then he turned and galloped away. The foal stood with ears flickering uncertainly back and forth, as he thought it all over with a look of intense concentration. The mare paid no attention to her bad-tempered foal, and started to graze on all of the rich pockets of snowgrass that she could find.

The foal sniffed and snorted at everything in reach, and his tail flapped with excitement. Something moved in the snowgrass, and Coorabin stamped and snorted. His ears tipped forwards and he lowered his nose to investigate. There was a strong, sharp smell, and the foal stepped forwards with nostrils wide. He wasn’t able to figure out where the smell came from, and he stamped his foot again.

Coorabin was now some twenty yards from his mother, when he looked up and noticed he was alone. The foal thought perhaps he should be frightened, but there was that interesting smell still, and a sound that came somewhere from the ground nearby. With his ears alert, Coorabin gave an eager whinny and then followed the sound for the better part of a mile. It was the river that interested him, and the foal watched it intently for a long while before he was convinced to approach.

His whole body trembled, and his ears went in all directions as he dropped his nose to further investigate. The shock of cold surprised him, and the foal shook himself all over as if he had tasted something bad. Coorabin mouthed the water, and decided it was not at all like milk, which was warm and good. The foal gathered himself to jump, as all of sudden, something flung itself against his legs, so the foal staggered one step forwards and then fell.

Warridanga, had been grazing almost shoulder to shoulder with Burrello when she stood suddenly alert. Her head up, the mare turned to see if Coorabin lay somewhere in the snowgrass. With a loud snort, the mare found her foal was nowhere to be seen or heard. She started to call wildly and race about looking everywhere the foal could be, until, covered in lather, she turned and bolted in the direction the sound had come.

[Ehetere]

Burrello lipped lovingly at Warridanga’s mane as she rested against him, knowing that here he had a truly rare mare, one who was well worth fighting for. She was not rare of colour as such, though her coat certainly was a lovely sight. It was the rare thing to find a mare who could dedicate her self fully to a stallion with no thoughts of another entering her mind. Warridanga was kind and gentle and sweet… Burrello supposed that he must love her.

He watched rather curiously as Coorabin wheeled around and kicked him in the chest. Surprisingly, the larger black horse found that the kick did not hurt at all - a creature so small must not have a very great strength after all. He watched after his chestnut son lovingly - Pandala had been too shy to ever really approach him. A son would be a new experience.

He continued to watch the foal for a little longer after Warridanga seemingly lost interest and started to graze, but finally decided that such a young animal was unlikely to wander far from its mother. Besides, he still needed the fresh new snowgrass to help his growing strength along, so he set to keeping the grass in order.

Warridanga’s suddenly stiff body alerted him that something was wrong. He flung his head up seconds after hers, snorting a warning at any who may be approaching. There were no visible adversaries; however Coorabin seemed to have disappeared. Fear gripped Burrello’s heart - a million terrible explanations for what had happened to the young colt flooding his mind. Warridanga’s frightened searching only added to the tense atmosphere, and Burrello joined in with her desperate cries in an effort to help find his first son.

Charging after Warridanga, Burrello realized that they were heading in the direction of the Crackenback itself. His body went cold for a moment before he set off at an even more urgent pace - fearing the worst. He spotted the foal in the water and charged down the bank as fast as his legs would carry him and into the freezing water. Not really knowing how he might stop the small colt from being washed into the rushing current, he stood between the river and the colt, feeling the small body catch and hold on his legs. He nosed desperately at Coorabin, frantically encouraging him to get to his feet so they could return to the bank - to safely.

[Corowa]

In her panic, the mare was oblivious to the stallion as he shot off after her. Warridanga headed in the direction of the river, and only the deep roar of water told her she was close. There was something being driven along by the force of the current, and the mare stopped, confused. It bobbed along in the fast water, and then when it passed directly by her, she saw it was Coorabin.

In an instant, Burrello was there, and the stallion immediately plunged into the river. All this time, Coorabin had been pushed along by the powerful current, until finally he was thrust up hard against the stallion’s legs. The foal couldn’t see what he had hit, but it slowed him enough that he could keep his nose above the water.

Standing on the bank, Warridanga could only look on while both the stallion and foal struggled to free themselves. Just then, Coorabin went under, and the mare watched as her foal was carried some distance downstream. A moment later, the foal surfaced, having been pushed down a narrower channel and into slower water.

This time, Coorabin struggled free of the current, and made it to the bank where he promptly collapsed in a heap. The mare rushed towards him, and finally after a short while, he stood, if a little shakily. Warridanga looked up to see Burrello heave himself out of the water, but the stallion was someway downstream, and so she turned her attention back to her foal.

He was dripping wet and the mare fussed over him, nudging and nuzzling until she was certain he was all right. Then she huffed out her breath and gave him a hard nip. The foal shook himself, and thrust his head under her belly to nurse. At this, Warridanga slowly settled, and by the time the foal had finished, she had forgotten the panic of only moments before.

Coorabin was considerably shaken, but otherwise unhurt. The mare watched him closely, but it would be a long while before the foal thought to go off on his own. Warridanga thought perhaps it was time to go, and undoubtedly, Burrello would be impatient to get back to the other mares. Warridanga was particularly eager to see the black mare, Loora, for the two had become constant companions.

[Ehetere]

It seemed Coorabin was getting up, but then he was under again and Burrello called desperately and peered into the swirling river for signs of life. The little chestnut head came up - further downstream from him, but the current was strong and Burrello was having difficulty staying upright as it was.

He did see the colt scramble into the eddy and free himself from the water, collapsing on the rocky beach. Burrello made his way towards the shore then too on shaky legs, his hooves slipping and fumbling over moss covered stones. Heaving his large body out of the freezing waters, she took several deep breaths to steady himself.

Shaking his coat and mane dry, he made his way over to where Warridanga was standing with Coorabin, who was nursing. Burrello imagined that such a frightening experience might stimulate a young foal’s appetite. He called gently to them both, anxious to get away from the terror and panic that had just gripped him. He needed to get back to his other mares, and Coorabin and Warridanga back to the safety of the herd. Hopefully his first son would cause less trouble in future.

OOC: Short, but finished