Memory Block 1

[Tex]

The trees were a stark reminder of the winter to come; losing their leaves already, allowing their only clothing to tatter in the slight breeze and fly for a few feet before sinking for perhaps the last time to earth. Being mere leaves, they were not even worthy of the honour of making a new tree; rather, the leaves rotted or dried up and eventually disappeared from the landscape. Now as Autumn was rolling up with a shading layer of grey clouds, leaves seemed to part in the way of a young grey stallion, as ragged and majestic as any brumby though his body was far different to any mountain horse.
His slightly dished nose was high up, nostrils flaring to pick up the scent of anything that may be nearby, and curved-inwards ears perked up high when a small group of Gang-Gangs twittered and dive-bombed each other far above him. One of the silly birds was brave enough to fly just above his head, squawking crazily, and the grey stallion paused to watch their antics. Not moving now, his sleek and strange body seemed to be snow come early, grey legs balancing the aerodynamic white body while darker grey mane and tail were tossed lightly in the same breeze that slowly stripped the trees. His eyes were brown, which seemed oddly mundane for a horse that looked to be from two worlds at once, but his gaze in itself was steadfast and cold. After bearing an assault of those stern brown eyes for some minutes, the Gang-Gangs split up and flew away, still twittering idiotically in their odd language.
The stallion was still for a moment longer, enough to scan the immediate area with his eyes and ears for any sign of danger, and only continued to walk along the side of the mountain when everything was completely quiet after some seconds.
Most would think the grey horse was strange, not looking to build himself a respectably sized or prized family, and not simply passing through the high country. He knew of this, and so attempted to keep out of the other wild horses' way, thinking that out of sight was out of mind. For now he would keep away from the others, even the females if it came to that. Of course, the stallion was a male horse- eventually he would have to settle down somewhere.
Straight ahead was a ledge, making more of a sheer drop than other points he had discovered along the countryside. The stallion couldn't resist trotting to the very edge, throwing his head up and snorting quietly through clenched teeth. He had been taught by a brumby that silence was the best weapon in the wild, and had that truth nearly beaten into him until it had stuck in his mind. The feeling of the breeze on his face, chest and coursing through his fur was too much to handle, however; Altair whinnied to the sky a call of simple joy, though he did add a foreboding hint of a neigh to the end to warn off visitors. The stallion didn't move after that, simply enjoying the cold day where the sun shone from seemingly every place in the sky at once. That was one of the good things about Autumn, and cloudy days, apart from the simple fact of his easy blending with the grey.

Attachments:

[stormsnow]

Loorea had been wanting to climb Mount. Kosciusko for a long time. She had been told that it was the highest point in the high country. The white mare, who was of a rare breed of horses from whom she inherited her unique blinding white coat, was trotting up a steep slope when she heard the voice of a stallion above her, and saw him poised on a cliff. Simply for the joy of it, the beautiful young mare threw up her head and gave fourth to a thunderous neigh, that echoed around the mountain.

[Tex]

The world seemed to ring like a bell in response to his joyful neigh, and he listened to his own voice attentively as it echoed about the valley below him, curved ears pointed forwards with his head at an angle to the ground, giving himself a curious air. The air was beginning to blow in earnest, and he leaned forward into the cooler air with a quiet sigh. His forelock was blown backwards, and it felt like someone was grooming his flanks as the fur quivered from the air. He didn't usually let anyone get close enough to do that, but it felt nice. The echo of his foolish neigh was dying down, for which he was very grateful- it had been a very stupid thing to do, to show his position to the world for simple pleasure.
Apparently the invisible forces that govern the world thought the same way; he heard an answer to his call, feminine, with a touch of wistfulness that perhaps even the owner wasn't aware of. His mind instantly went to a special form of consciousness that he himself had created, along with that cunning old stallion from long ago. His sense of smell and hearing grew as he closed his eyes and ignored the other senses, allowing a better understanding of the world about himself. There- a sound below, the clatter of careless hooves over rocks, and a heavy breathing that every horse without practice must endure while climbing steep hills. Altair decided that it would be best to withdraw at this point, in case the intruder had seen him, and the majestic grey stallion pulled back onto his haunches and spun around, leaping off from that spot and trotting uphill.
The echo of the intruder's answer was still rolling about the valleys below, and he cursed at himself for being foolish enough to announce his presence. Altair did not want to meet anyone, though it seemed inevitable that something like this would eventually happen. He whirled around a steep piece of granite and paused, out of sight, listening intently. It must be a mare, from the feminine neigh, and it wasn't too smart either. He didn't say this because she was beautiful, or because of her colour, neither of which he had actually seen; it was because of her answer.

[stormsnow]

Loorea snorted with disappointment as the stallion retreated, having heard her neigh. She wasn't worried about danger from most things except man; it wasn't that she was stupid, it was simply because she didn't see any sense in being scared all the time. No, she wasn't stupid, just young and hotheaded.

Daku emerged behing his friend. "Why did you answer to that stallion's call? It wasn't really a call, anyway." The dingo eyed his younger friend disapprovingly.

[Tex]

The granite was cold, emulating the colder weather and feeling oddly comforting in its rough contact with his fur. Altair rested his head on the side of it, closing his eyes and breathing slowly to keep from making too much noise after the rough jog uphill. If his hearing was correct, the mare was still there, and appeared to be talking to something that was at least speaking back. If she had been speaking to something that could not in fact speak back, he would be even more ashamed that she had found him. Insane horses are hard to get rid of.
He flicked his ears about, scanning the immediate area for any other unexpected visitors, and very quietly edged towards the far side of the granite sheet. There were rocks under his hooves, but by moving carefully and aiming for the few patches of grass, Altair managed to arrive at his destination without too much excess noise. Once at the edge, he poked his nose out and sniffed the air carefully, tensing at the scent of dingo. The dingo was having a conversation with the horse, and he flattened his ears momentarily; if she had a dingo on her side, he would find it even more difficult to escape without her notice. He had withdrawn his muzzle before almost as soon as it had been out, so she would not know that he was hiding here, but he needed to escape soon.
Soon he saw the perfect way out of this situation; ahead of the hiding stallion, almost a pathway of wet moss which was perfect for hiding his sounds, then a stream immediately ahead of it. He could leave without sound and get rid of his scent at the same time. Altair breathed in deeply and focused on the destination for a minute before striking out quickly, trusting the grey sky and slight mist to hide his slightly dappled coat.

[Ehetere]

OOC: Hope you don’t mind me bringing Kirroo in - he’s been dormant for a while and needs some play lol.

A cold wind blew up behind Kirroo as he scaled the open and barren landscape that was Kosciusko. He had been living in the area for almost a season and a half, not venturing southwards at all. His wounded pride had been healed - sort of - by his extended stay on the rough mountainside, with its rugged cliffs and snowgrass flats. He liked it here, but knew that winter was coming and would soon have to leave the slopes of Kosciusko in search of lower warmer ground.

The wind whipped around and changed direction, as it often did on the mountain, bringing with it the scent of other horses and something else. The colt stiffened, not because of the smell of dingo, but because of the smell of an unfamiliar stallion. The scent was gone, lost on the wind before he could be sure, but it smelt almost familiar, and his mind immediately flashed to the night where those other colts had ganged up on him and beaten him to the ground. Perhaps one of them was on the mountain, right now, looking for him. But if it was indeed one of those colts, and he had a mare, Kirroo intended to give him as much trouble as he could. And perhaps get his revenge for being so disloyal.

He cantered up the slope with determination in his eyes, long legs surprisingly graceful and coordinated despite being so long. The sound of thundering hooves met his ears and he pulled up sharply, throwing his nose in the air to try and catch the smell of the approaching animal as well as listening intently. What sort of a horse was so loud and galloped so presumptuously on the slopes of Kosciusko, where it was far better to go slow, steady and unnoticed. Who knew what might be watching.

A pale grey shape came into view - not one of the colts that Kirroo knew, but a stallion, almost fully grown. He laid back his ears defensively, debating quickly on whether or not to flee. The stallion was years older than he, but Kirroo being arrogant and young stood his ground. He did wonder briefly why any stallion would be running away from a mare - had he completely lost his marbles? Kirroo intended to collect a herd someday, when he had better experience of the High Country so he could hold them from others who may wish them theirs.

Whinnying shrilly to halt the oncoming grey, Kirroo announced his presence with just about as much grandeur as the grey had - tossing his mane, flagging his tail and stomping. He wasn’t small for his age, and could have passed for a three year old or older were he not so scrawny. His messy mane and tail were frosted with silver hairs, and his creamy coloured coat was quite unlike that of his colour. None would have guessed he was a buckskin. Still posturing, Kirroo half reared before dropping lightly to the ground again in a display of balance on such a steep slope.

“Why do you run?” he asked the stallion suspiciously, his head held high to make himself appear even taller. Now that he was up close with the other stallion, he noticed that the horse was quite strange. Not in the way that his own coat was strange - grey could hardly be called an unusual colour - but more how his body was made. It looked similar to that of the tame horses he had seen men riding around occasionally, but there was a heaviness about it too that Kirroo found distasteful. Like two very different types of horses had been smashed together when they should have stayed apart. He had been born into a herd of taller brumbies with lean bodies and long legs - most likely descendants of escaped horses, so had grown up with that as the ideal image of beauty and power.

“And where is your mare and that dingo? I know they’re there - I could scent them. You didn’t leave her to fend for herself with such a fiend did you?” he snorted, doubting very much that the mare was being attacked. There were no noises of attack to be heard, and no scent of blood in the air. Far more likely the dingo was a tag-along, as the bush creatures sometimes were.

[Tex]

It appeared the world was conspiring against him. Another halt, another few minutes lost in which he could have done something more important and far more useful. The wind had been blowing his scent away, though it was eddying about confusingly, which explained why Altair hadn't caught up this new horse's smell from much further away. The mist, perhaps helpful for him to run away from dull-witted mares with, had also hidden the more yellow coat of the colt before him. Altair snorted under his breath and turned to face the newcomer, noticing that it was a regular brumby, not a mixed-up, strange-looking guy like he was. Lucky horse.
The colt was looking immensely proud of itself, turning up its nose at the sight of Altair, and the grey stallion pawed the ground threateningly without thinking about it, his ears now flattened. It was obvious this colt wasn't going to just walk away, and it had probably picked up the mare's and dingo's smell if it had located the male horse trying to leave. Now he had to hold in an amused whicker at the brave expression on the other male's face, who looked to be psyching itself up to attack. Altair didn't want to turn an offer like that down, though he had wanted to explore the land before running into any battles over pride or mares. The female horses were simply too distracting for someone who wanted knowledge rather than fame or an obscene sense of power over other individuals.
The other horse- Altair could not tell what colour it was exactly, being mixed with grey hairs and other tints- flagged his tail and postured like a stallion twice his age, which he watched with interest. The colt was large, and probably strong as well, but it looked way too scrawny and lanky to be older than two. He hadn't had much experience with other horses, having been hidden from dangers by his overprotective mother, but it was logical to his mind that this colt couldn't be any older than three, at the very most. That meant that Altair was better built, stronger and probably faster than this horse. That fact soothed his alert muscles, and the grey stallion walked forward a few steps threateningly while responding to the questions.
"You presume a lot to think I should answer every one of your questions, colt. Of course, what's life without some invitation to danger? I am not running from a... mare. Quite simply, I don't want some female tagging along, slowing me down. As for that dingo, she's talking to it. Go ask her why," Altair said in a steely voice, fixing his cold and hard brown eyes on those of the colt's. "What's your name, little horse?" the grey asked after a pause.

OOC: Sorry for posting out of turn, I'm pretty musey today <3 btw Ehetere, love the hat in your pic.

[stormsnow]

Loorea snorted at her friend. "I don't care. Let's have some excitement in our lives for once, shall we?" Without waiting for Daku to reply, the young mare trotted off in the direction that the stallion had gone. With the dingo following her, the blindingly white mare picked up speed. Seeing the stallion and a colt up ahead, she attempted to stop, skidding down a small slope, and crashed into the colt. Picking herself up, she eyed him apologetically, whinnying, "Sorry. I didn't mean to do that..."

Daku galloped after his friend, his tail streaming behind him. Stopping at the slope, he gazed at the scene a little below him, then shook his head, muttering to himself, "Curiosity killed the wildcat."

[Ehetere]

Kirroo snorted, already feeling his temper rising. As yet, he was a very hot-headed colt who rarely thought things through properly and this situation was likely to turn out to be one of them. And why was the other stallion wearing such an amused expression? There was nothing funny here. Nothing at all.

The tone the stallion used with him was condescending, and Kirroo didn’t appreciate it one bit. The stallion was not yet fully grown, meaning he was four our younger. This meant that he only had 2 years or less of growth on him. Had the stallion been fully, grown, Kirroo would have accepted that there was nothing he could do about such rudeness, and it was probably earned anyway. But here, with this grey stallion, equality wasn’t a hard ask.

He had to admit, Kirroo agreed with the stallion’s comment on mares for the moment. He could hardly go around with the impunity he did now if he had a pretty mare of filly tagging along. Other colts and stallions would be after him then. But he severely hoped that by the time he reached the grey’s age that he would at least have some herd members. Stallions were often judged in strength from the herds they held and having no herd whatsoever indicated lesser to inferior strength.

“I do not want to ask her,” replied Kirroo defiantly, “I do not wish to consort with brumbies who befriend predators.”

Kirroo’s returned the grey’s gaze a haughty look about him all the way. “I am not a little horse,” he replied coldly, knowing that already he was only a little shorter than the older horse. He was lither and lighter too! This was one advantage young colts like him needed when faced with older stronger stallions that were also heavier and had a harder time manoeuvring.

“I am Kirroo, named for the cold that surrounds us, and the freezing blowing winds that bring winter…”

The sound of hooves and sliding stones alerted him a little too late of an oncoming threat and Kirroo threw his head wildly about just in time to see a white shape tumbling towards him. The object and he collided with some force, almost knocking Kirroo to the ground. He teetered, reared and then regained his balance, looking flustered and irritated.

“Watch where you’re going why don’t you!” he retorted, shaking his mane to clear any nervous shock that had suddenly coursed through him, “You could have killed me by pushing me over the edge like that!”

The thing that had run into him was a very white mare - he could have thought her a ghost were it not for their very solid meeting. She was flesh and blood alright. This was the mare he had scented before, and he glanced around nervously, locating the dingo just above them on a ledge. He snorted suspiciously before removing his gaze, though still keeping one ear trained on it at all times. He didn’t trust killers, even though he knew full well a dingo could not bring down a fully grown brumby. However his thin frame and light weight might convince it that it could have a fair crack if it wished.

[Tex]

The grey stallion was finding it hard to keep from a large grin, and even the small smile he was showing now had irritated the colt to no end, if his trembling and agitation was any sign of his emotions. The tone he had spoken with earlier had been as if speaking to a foal, which was calculated to more annoy the other horse than to actually treat him as an inferior, but he had hoped that looking older and stronger would have frightened the colt off before now. Unneccessary fighting would just attract the mare with a dingo friend their way, and he had no intention of seeing either her or the wild dog. As he watched the colt struggle with his emotions, something every young horse had to deal with if they wanted to be a good fighter as an adult, Altair noticed the horse eyeing his stronger limbs and more developed muscles. As the other male knew already, older meant stronger, but after being so arrogant back to him, the grey decided the colt knew he was faster and more agile than an older horse. This could be a problem, but most brumbies didn't know that his strange body wasn't just oddly pretty and something men were attracted to. At an early age Altair had discovered he had better grace and endurance than most other colts, something that had seemed a good trade for looking normal among the bush brumbies. His mother had said that his father was a prized horse among the men, graceful and odd-looking, with incredible speed and endurance. Altair had noticed himself that his mother was completely different to other brumbies; her mane was wavy and almost in ringlets, she looked regal among the most well-bred wild fillies, and she had such grace that running through the thickest scrub was no challenge for her. Altair had inherited the endurance and agility from his father, and enjoyed a heightened ability at running over rocks and other barricades without falling over. All of this boiled down to one thing; Altair was no ordinary bush brumby.
“I do not want to ask her,” the colt said arrogantly, “I do not wish to consort with brumbies who befriend predators.”
Altair flicked his ears back and forth while thinking about the answer, wondering what he should do now. If he left, the colt would be very smug and thinking he defeated a larger horse than himself wrongfully. Aside from having a wounded pride if this happened, Altair knew it was dangerous to be overconfident when it came to other stallions. There was also a chance that he might be followed, and a fight could be imminent if that happened. The grey was indecisive, and decided to wait for a while longer, to think about what to do.
“I am Kirroo, named for the cold that surrounds us, and the freezing blowing winds that bring winter…" the colt said suddenly. Altair was a bit surprised; he hadn't expected an answer to that question. But the name... it suited the colt, he supposed. Kirroo was a rather cold character, and his lighter coat could be taken as a reference to the snow. It was good to have a name to a horse's scent, and Altair bobbed his head in a semblence of respect as he answered.
"I am Altair. The name is for the eagle, the one who flies highest in daylight," he said in a controlled voice, one ear flicking to the side at a small sound. The small sound changed to a crashing one, and Altair backed away a few steps with his ears pointing towards the disturbance, not wanting to turn his back on either Kirroo or whatever was making the noise.
A brilliantly white mare suddenly lunged from the bushes, and now Altair whinnied under his breath in a deep rumble, very unhappy about the situation. The mare, who he could tell was the same one from before, seemingly couldn't control her speed, and ran straight into Kirroo. The grey snorted in an attempt to hide a small laugh at Kirroo's expression, and the mare quickly apologised while the dingo he had smelled before said something he couldn't pick up, higher up the mountain.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to do that..." the mare said politely, and Kirro immediately blew up in response.
“Watch where you’re going why don’t you!” he roared, while Altair watched with a quiet curiosity. “You could have killed me by pushing me over the edge like that!”
"Then maybe you shouldn't stand so close?" Altair asked innocently, turning around once he was finished speaking. The colt would distract the mare; now he just had to lose the Dingo, if it decided to follow him.