the two creamies, [R]

[Corowa]

The creamy mare grazed alone in the shade of the snowgums. The bush was unusually hot, and Wilgee had travelled north to the higher plains where there was still quite good snowgrass. There were stockmen about, and sometimes, she smelt their tame horses and heard the furious barks of their dogs. There were many more cattle in the High Country, and sometimes when the stockmen mustered them, there were brumbies driven along with the mob.

A stockman on a neat bay horse had chased the mare continually since she arrived here. Wilgee was much stronger than the stockman’s young horse, but the sound of the rope and smell of his horse, was enough to make her break out into a sweat. While he seemed kindly enough, the mare was terrified of capture, and she remembered the roughness of the rope and the heaviness of the man upon her back.

Something moved through the snowgums, and Wilgee suddenly stilled. She stood with ears sharply pricked and nostrils distended. The mare wondered if it was the same stockman, though she had heard nothing. The bay horse was only young, and usually he would let out a ringing whinny, unable to contain himself, often to the unhappiness of his master. Wilgee had talked with him through the stockyard fence, and found him a good companion, if quite stupid.

She stretched out her nose, and her ears flicked back and forth. The stockman was often as impatient as his horse, and there had been no sudden signs of movement. The mare stared intently at the snowgums; sure, she had seen something. Then, with a loud snort, she started to crop at the grass. Even so, one ear remained flicked forwards, and if it were indeed a stockman, Wilgee would have a head start of a hundred yards or more.

[Ehetere]

A silver shadow moved silently through the bush, using the trees to hide her creamy coat and shelter her at least partially from the heat. Illoura’s movements were slow - she was still a little stiff and sore from her first ever battle, which she now realised was probably rather foolish and rash, but what was done, was done and there was nothing she could do to change it even if she had wished it. She had been the victor after all, so what was there to complain about really?

After leaving the cooler Ash Forest in the south, she had stiffened up something fierce as she slept overnight. She had begun migrating north back into the High Country just as she had intended however. She was searching for her long lost friend Wilgee, a creamy of sorts who had been her friend a little more than a year ago. Illoura missed their companionship, having been unable to find its equivalent elsewhere.

The journey was slow going though, especially at first, and painful too. She had been partially lamed, and had hidden away in a deep creek until her lameness at least was completely gone before continuing. Then Illoura had made her way up the Cascade Valley - the traditional home of Silver Brumbies like herself. All the while she was wondering where she might find her missing friend, for Wilgee was knowledgeable in the ways of the bush herself.

After finding no trace of her in the Cascades, Illoura had made for Dead Horse Gap, intending to cross over into the depths of Dead Horse Creek in the evening or the early morning and make her way of to Paddy Rush’s Bogong and the Brindle Bull to search for traces of Wilgee.

Despite her nervousness at being so near man and his huts and his cattle, Illoura knew of many a decent grazing place in the gap, so intended to stop here and rest before continuing.

It was on her way to one such grazing spot when a familiar scent blew past her. Wilgee? Illoura stopped ad took another deep breath. Yes, the scent was most definitely there, but it was so faint - old perhaps? Or just coming from the wrong direction? There was very little wind that day for Illoura to tell where it had come from and Wilgee of course had left no tracks. Pricking her ears forward she listened intently for the slightest sound. The bush was silent and still… but then came the of a loud if slightly nervous snort. Wilgee was nearby!

Moving again, more swiftly now but still silently, Illoura hurried in the direction the noise had come. Spotting movement in the trees, Illoura poked her face out of the scrub to find Wilgee grazing, her whole body tensed as if to spring at the slightest provocation. Stepping out of the trees and cantering joyously over, she let out a soft nicker of welcome. She too was conscious of the threat of man, especially after her magnificently terrifying chase last year.

[Corowa]

Wilgee looked up at the same instant something shot out of the snowgums towards her. The mare started forwards in sudden surprise, just about to bolt in the other direction, sure it was a stockman, or perhaps even a grazier on a fine thoroughbred.

At the same instant, the horse nickered, and confused, Wilgee propped on her haunches, and swung neatly about. In only a moment, she had flattened out into a gallop, and the two horses almost collided as they bolted towards each other.

Both horses stopped, two creamies outlined by the snowgums, splendid in the sunlight. Wilgee ducked her head and kicked out playfully at her old companion. With a squeal, she went up on her hind legs, and had there been a stockman, he might have stopped himself; such was the sight the two creamies made.

“I had not thought to see you again,” Wilgee said, with nostrils wide, as she curiously sniffed the mare’s shoulder and flank. “I thought perhaps you’d been captured, since I could not find you, and you are one to think you can outsmart even the best of the stockmen.”

It had been this, which had led Wilgee to the higher plains, much as the good snowgrass and sheltered flats. Wilgee had looked in every stockyard down by the stockman’s hut, but there had been no sign of her mate. Not even the tame horses had seen the creamy, though one fellow had told how his master had almost roped one some time back.

“I suppose you have led all the stallions on such a chase through the High Country while I have not been there to watch over you,” Wilgee said, lightly mocking. In truth, she had thought something terrible had happened, and imagined, that perhaps the mare had been captured, and stood, beaten and whipped down in some stockyard.

There were so many stockmen in the High Country, and though there had been no big brumby drives, there had still been several brumbies taken. Even the strongest of the bush brumbies, could not hope to escape from a good stockhorse, one fed on oats and chaff, and trained over some of the roughest mountain country.

[Ehetere]

Illoura could not help but contain herself in letting out a joyous whinny as Wilgee charged towards her and they both cavorted around like excited yearlings. Oh how good it was to have a true friend again! She had been somewhat incomplete this past year, and she now realized that she would always needs friends in this world, and that going by herself was perhaps not for her.

She laughed at Wilgee’s comments, though it was a nervous shaky laugh, for Wilgee’s fears could easily have been real. “I thought the same of you also, for I had not found you in my searches either.”

She had often feared that the creamy mare had been captured in some brumby drive or simply in a chase with too many men to outsmart - for Illoura had found not a trace of her companion in her wide wanders over the High Country.

A sly expression slid across her face, though it was still tinted with nervous relief at having found Wilgee free and safe. Behind the jokes was the unspoken fear that had been building up in both horses that the other had been captured and would never be seen again.

“Oh but of course,” replied Illoura, “I have missed you at my side in my adventures - oh the fun there was to be had.”

Really her life away from the High Country had been less fun of an adventure than she had hoped, for she had been alone with no one to share her experiences and secret places with. And of course she had led many a stallion a dance, as there was little else in life that could send her blood pumping and the thrill of the chase - being seen and then not seen - thumping in her ears. But without Wilgee, it all seemed rather empty. At least they were now together once more.

[Corowa]

Something moved deep within her, and Wilgee could feel herself tremble all over with the intensity of her longing. The throbbing in her veins stilled, and there was only the hushed stillness of the bush, as if it too watched and wondered. Not even the wise currawong, in the high branches of a big, old snowgum, made a sound.

Wilgee rubbed her head along the creamy mare’s neck. “I missed you,” she said softly. “I found myself alone with none to share in the excitement of the chase, the wild joy of racing over the snowgrass, teasing the very winds with one’s swiftness. But there was no joy without you, only a terrible sorrow, for it was as if some part of me had been lost to the winds and I have sought it for so long now.”

Filled with a sudden, wild excitement, the mare stirred restlessly, listening to the sound of the wind as it moved through the snowgums. Head held high, she stood, glistening in a shaft of sunlight, mane and tail turned to silver. The wind was louder now, and it made every hair tingle, for surely Illoura could hear the promise in its call.

With a high, ringing neigh, Wilgee bounded down one side of the snowgrass slope. In only a moment, she was down amongst the messmate and stringybarks. The mare trusted in her own swiftness, and she galloped faster, faster than she might have dared over such rough ground. Only half-seen through the great ribbons of bark and thin bush, Wilgee seemed no more than a glorious vision.

The slope was steep, dropping down to a narrow shelf, and somewhere far below, a gully filled with snowgums. On this high ledge, Wilgee stopped in her tracks and swung neatly about. Her breath sobbed in her chest, and she trembled in every limb, but she held herself with a splendid pride. For in this moment, she was truly a daughter of the whirlwind.

[Ehetere]

Illoura felt a warmth blossom in her heart as she and Wilgee embraced for the first time in what felt like eternities. Oh the joy to be standing by her side again! The bush around them had become still – perhaps paused by the sheer beauty of the pair in the clearing. Two creamies, as wild as the mountains and the wind itself.

“I missed you too, Wilgee,” agreed Illoura, “Every day was darkened as if a cloud followed my every step, everything a little less bright, less joyful. Sisters of the wind are we, not in blood, but in bond. It would be the cruelest of fates to see two brumbies such as us to be separated again.”

The bush was no longer silent – creatures were creeping and the wind was stirring once more. The blood throbbed restlessly in Illoura’s veins, and the longing to race the barely whispered voice borne on the wind was intensifying with every breath she took.

Wilgee, her sister of the wind, seemed to hear its call too, for she bounded away with a wild whinny. Illoura needed no further encouragement as she raced after her long lost friend as she disappeared into the bush. Weaving through the trees like two silver ghosts, Illoura could hear the blood rushing in her ears and her heart pounding with excitement in her chest. Faster and faster she went, urging her legs ever faster so they were barely touching the uneven ground. Pivoting, ducking, dodging – balance and control unerring.

Up ahead the terrain was lightening, and Illoura saw Wilgee pull up and slackened her own pace pulling up to a sliding stop near the treeline. She could not help herself but let out a sobbing neigh to the sky, for the joy of being reunited with Wilgee, the love of the wind and of life itself. Here silhouetted on the edge, the two creamies could not have been more glorious in their freedom.

[Corowa]

Illoura was right with her, and Wilgee reached over and gave the mare a playful nip. For a moment she stood there, looking down into that deep gully far below, and then suddenly, the mare swung around and bounded up the rough snowgrass spur, intent on reaching the top of that high mountain.

Wilgee had nearly reached the shelter of a huge scribbly gum, when she was stopped in her tracks. There, just a little distance up the ridge, sat a stockman on a neat chestnut horse. Wilgee melted back into the snowgums. The mare stood completely still, but there was no way of hiding, and she could feel her hide prickle with the feeling of being watched.

Just then the crack of the stockwhip rang out, and all of a sudden the stockman was galloping towards her, and in a moment, the mare had turned and plunged wildly down the steep line of ridge. She stretched her legs to their fullest, and hurtled down a narrow bush track, deliberately led the stockman in the opposite direction to Illoura.

She could hear the stockman drive his horse down over the rough slabs of granite and fallen timber. Surely, she would be swifter than a horse with a man upon its back, but they were almost upon her when she gathered herself and leapt from out under that high ledge of rock.

There was the hiss of the rope, but it bounced harmlessly off her rump. A snowgum branch whipped her head, and then she was down in amongst the thick bush and there was no longer the sound of the stockman so near behind her.

Wilgee stopped to get her breath. The mare knew to stay in amongst the timber, and she went on soundlessly through the big, spreading snowgums, having instinctively turned north, towards the wide stretch of mountains and bare snowgrass ridges of the Ramshead.

[Ehetere]

Illoura watched as Wilgee bounded up the hill - heading for the top of the spur. She made a move to bound after her when suddenly Wilgee halted in her tracks and disappeared into the trees. Illoura came to a very sudden halt, with no cover in the nearby vicinity of her, fully aware of how her lovely creamy coat would be shining in the sunlight: a beacon for any watching eyes.

The sound of a whip crack, and the sudden movement of chestnut hide had Illoura bolting for cover. The sound of galloping hooves sounded behind her, and she was certain that it was not her companion Wilgee who followed. The creamy was far too light of foot for this, and the horse who was following her was anything but. Throwing a furtive glance over her shoulder, she saw the flash of bay hide and the shine of silver stirrups, which only served to urge her faster.

On through the bush she tore, weaving and dodging through the trees no longer in fun. The pale bark of paperbarks would hide her for a while, so she would seem like a silver ghost darting in and out of trees, but they were thinning, and she did not want to risk herself on open ground.

Making a sharp turn down a rocky ridge and kangaroo track, she was forced to slow to a trot but hoped her sudden change of direction might stall the stockman following her for a short while at least. The sound of falling rocks sounded as she was about half way down, showering her in dirt and grit. Glancing upwards nervously, she attempted to canter, but then almost lost the foothold in front of her when the track made a sudden turn. She leaned back onto her haunches to maintain her balance and prevent her body from tumbling forwards into the rocky canyon below and then hurried on down the track.

Reaching the bottom with no further sign of the stockman, she darted into the tangled bush at the bottom, going every so carefully now so as not to leave a track or hair that might indicate that she had travelled this way. Worry for Wilgee was beginning to overwhelm her - surely her sister of the wind would have escaped the clutches of the men? It would be a cruel fate indeed for them to be reunited and then separated so soon. She hurried on northwards, heading in the direction of Dead Horse Creek and the Ramsheads. There was always safety in those rugged ridges where only the toughest horses could run, and surely Wilgee would be making her way up there as well.

[Corowa]

Eventually, the snowgums thinned towards the flank of a steep ridge. Higher up, there was no shelter, and the mare worried how noticeable she would be up there above the line of timber. Wilgee stopped to listen. There was no sign of the stockman, but the call of the currawong rang with a warning, and the mare could feel unseen eyes watching from somewhere nearby.

She remembered an old bush track that came down off the Ramshead. There was a deep gully far below, and surely, a stockman on his shod horse would be too heavy to get down the steep side of ridge. Wilgee turned, and threaded her way down through the trees, careful to leave no sign of her passing. The track was surrounded by low, scrubby bush, and whippy snowgum saplings, and it didn’t take the mare long to find it.

Wilgee paused first before she stepped out onto the track. She looked behind her, but there was nothing more than the leathery leaves of the snowgums, swaying gently in the wind. The mare went on more quietly now, feeling every hair prickle with the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. The bush was still and silent, and Wilgee was sure there were eyes watching her, for her skin crawled and every part of her was filled with dread.

Further up the track, there stood a stockman on a bay horse, a kelpie dog with him. Wilgee stopped in her tracks and switched around. There was no time now to go soundlessly, and the mare galloped headlong down the shaly, bush track. The rope stung her rump, and Wilgee stretched her legs to their fullest, straining to pick out anything between the line of bush that ran alongside the track.

The dog got in behind her, and Wilgee struck out blindly, her breath sobbing in her chest. It nipped at the mare’s hocks, but Wilgee plunged sharply down a rough snowgrass spur, slipping and slithering on the great piles of granite. Once more there was the hiss of the rope, but then she was in amongst the thick scrub. A snowgum branch whipped her head, stinging her flanks so she was sure it was the rope she felt.

There were no longer any stockmen behind her, and slowly Wilgee slackened in her headlong gallop. The mare did not know how long she had been galloping for, but the sweat steamed off her, when she finally pulled up. Her ears twitched, and Wilgee stood with head thrown up, watching and listening, until the feeling of uneasiness faded. It was then, that the mare turned in the direction she hoped might lead her up towards the open country of the Ramshead.

OOC: Wilgee is just in the ravine that Illoura went through. So she’s behind Illoura.