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Post by Tiggs on Jan 16, 2010 14:30:38 GMT
The sandy filly watched with rapt attention. Unlike Wangnarra, she did not even stop watching to craze. The graceful fight of the colts was captivating, the squeals and thuds of hooves excited her, and she nickered her encouragement. Bunderra seemed to be winning, but there was no blood spilt and the two split apart with no apparent anger.
Kiata whinnied her congratulations to Bunderra, but it was the grey Piringa that came over to the fillies first. He snuffled at her, and pulled her mane playfully. Kiata squealed and nipped him back, the light of amusement dancing in her eyes. Victorious Bunderra forgotten, she watched as Piringa went to Wangnarra. The bay filly was not nearly so thrilled by Piringa’s attention, and so Kiata romped over to intervene before Wangnarra could ruin the mood.
Still withholding her voice from the colt, she passed Bunderra and Wangnarra to stand beside Piringa. She lipped him on the shoulder, barely using enough teeth to call it a nip. His hide was hot and damp, but he smelt interesting. It was strange how different he was to her father or brothers, and she tugged as his steely mane cheekily.
Bunderra seemed to want to chat, but Kiata had regained some of her energy after the run and she wanted to play! Quite rudely in retrospect, she tried to draw Piringa’s attention from the colt who was talking with him by bucking and prancing, flagging her tail high and holding her head higher. She was still young, but the joy of entertaining a stallion or colt was not lost on her.
The roan bay tugged his tail even, and backed off with a cheeky glint to her eye. Come and play, she willed, play with me.
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Post by Ehetere on Jan 17, 2010 1:07:45 GMT
Piringa jumped back in surprise when the bay filly squealed angrily, and he came to a halt. He’d only been trying to play. Perhaps she was foul tempered like his mother whenever the creamy mare Cardinia was standing too near his father.
“I come from up north: the high and rocky torrs of the Ramshead are my birthplace and home,” he replied, proudly, arching his neck as he did so. Growing up in such an environment had given him sure-footedness, endurance and speed, but not strength. Perhaps the lowlands here would give him that.
Piringa pricked up his ears and looked curiously as the bay filly approached the black colt and proceeded to let him groom her a little and even rested her head on his withers! Piringa was slightly hurt that she favoured the black over he, but he had not come out the obvious victor of the mock battle and this was surely to be expected. Even so, it was a little disappointing.
His slightly down mood was lightened immediately when the lovely sandy filly came romping over and tugged and nipped at him playfully. Forgetting the blossoming conversation with the black very quickly, her antics were very distracting after all. The black had the bay to talk to anyway, he thought with a slight bitterness.
Whinnying playfully he cantered after the filly, noticing that he was slightly stiff from the fight when he ran. Hopefully frolicking and playing would loosen him up again. He did not want to be hindered in his travels after today.
He chased the sandy filly down, nipping at her ankles and tail cheekily before bursting off into a wild gallop with a ringing neigh. This was what being free of herd life was meant to be. It was brilliant and fantastic to hear the rush of wind in his dark grey ears and have his still black mane lifted from his slightly wet neck.
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Post by Corowa on Feb 7, 2010 21:58:50 GMT
Bunderra watched the two young horses play. It was obvious the grey yearling no longer had any interest in his companionship, and while the colt longed to know more of the high country plains, he only stood quietly, occasionally cropping at the snowgrass while he slowly started down one side of the lightly timbered slope.
Something moved at his flank, and Bunderra stopped, turned to see the bay filly shyly extend her nose to his. He had thought she might stay with the other colt, Piringa, but was glad she had followed. Some feeling he could not understand stirred within him, and he felt the queer prickling of his hide at the filly’s soft touch.
His ears twitched uncertainly, and then with a snort, Bunderra decided to continue on. The two yearlings picked their way down the slope, on through the bigger snowgums until finally they were down in amongst the sapling scrub and rough bush. They moved soundlessly now, leaving no tracks, for both had been taught by the most bush-wise of mares.
The colt stopped only for a moment, but the bay filly was right there beside him. Here, there were the remains of an old wood fence, and a stockman’s track which went alongside it. Though there were no signs of recent use by stockmen and their cattle, the two yearlings stirred uneasily, listening for the dreaded hiss of the rope, and the sharp crack of the stockwhip.
Yet there was only the peaceful stillness of the bush, and slowly the feelings of such terrible fear faded, until they was nothing more than half-forgotten memories, to be spoken of in the doleful song of the mopoke, woven into legend by the wind as it moved amongst the snowgum leaves.
In the biggest of the snowgums, a currawong called out, and it seemed to promise something Bunderra neither recognised nor remembered. He found himself filled with longing, but for what, he did not know; only that it was bound up with this bay filly, possessor of some queer quality, which made every nerve tingle, every hair stand on end.
So with hide prickling and blood throbbing, Bunderra led the bay filly on down that old stockman’s track, down through the old snowgums, bleached by wind and snow, to the sheltered flat below. It was the currawong that told of the splendid black colt, with his high, proud step, and the fine bay filly, whose blood flowed with all the force of the whirlwind.
OOC: Ok so that’s Bunderra and Wangnarra done. Since this was thread was for them all to meet up and play, is it alright to end this one in the next couple of posts and then you can start up a separate thread for Kiata and Piringa?
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