Exogenesis: A Kingly Thread

[tingara]

His coat was lighter than it had once been, the greying betraying the stallion’s ageing body. Tingara was on the edge of old age but it did not bother the King of the Cascade Brumbies for he had led a rich life and he knew he would most certainly not be dying alone. In the valley below stood his herd, the herd of the King. It was the biggest in the High Country, filled with his mares, sons and daughters. He took comfort in the fact that when he passed on his bloodline would be continued in them. Although he mused about getting old Tingara was most certainly not senile yet. There was still plenty of fight left in the black King yet.

Irritably he snorted at his thoughts, nostrils flaring. Hazel eyes scanned the multitude of horses before him looking for one mare in particular. His black head perked up when he spotted her familiar blue and white mottled hide. At once he was pacing to her side, focused solely on her. ”Myrrina,” the black stallion whickered warmly, running his nose over his mate’s body. For awhile he was simply content to graze lazily at Myrrina’s side. All thoughts of growing old left his mind as he cropped at the lush snowgrass beside the mare.

Although he was at peace beside his mate, the black stallion soon began to grow restless to see the other mares of his herd. He trotted amongst them, greeting each one with a loving nuzzle. Behind him trotted one of his daughters. Arapala, Tingara’s Moonfilly daughter followed the great stallion everywhere, fancying herself just like him. The King laughed when he spotted her, giving her an affectionate nip on the shoulder. With his mares and children around him he felt like the luckiest stallion in the entire mountain range.

[Corowa]

Myrrina grazed with her foal, some forty yards or so from the large herd. Tallarook had started to eat grass, but it would still be some time before he no longer suckled. The mare watched him now as he mouthed the snowgrass, his little brown ears flicking busily back and forth, as he considered the important business of grazing.

At that same instant, as she lifted her head and started to amble towards her foal, the stallion approached with his high, swinging trot. The mare halted and turned to face him. Her nostrils flared wide and she nickered.

There was an understanding between the mare and stallion. The two horses had run together for much of their lives, and while Tingara was responsible for the protection of the mares, and would undoubtedly fight to his last breath, it was in Myrrina the stallion trusted to find the best grazing, to lead the mares to shelter and keep them together.

The stallion fussed over her, and with a soft whicker, she turned and rubbed her head on his neck. He settled down and grazed with her a while, but the mare had noticed the peculiarity of his mood, so when the stallion finally moved off, she was not bothered.

Tingara joined the mares, only the young foals and fillies with them. The yearling and two-year-old colts grazed further off from the main herd, their hides marked with the bites and kicks they had received from the stallion. Myrrina thoroughly approved of this but she was surprised to still see the sleek black yearling in with the other colts.

The mare started to crop at the snowgrass. Just then, there sounded a shrill and frightened whinny, and she lifted her head and considered it. Tallarook had slowly grazed his way down one of the wide and sloping hills at the end of the grassy flat. The hill separated him from the herd, and no longer seeing the other horses, the foal had begun to panic.

He let out another terrified whinny, and then the mare lifted her head and called him. Myrrina stood with ears suddenly pointed forwards, and she nickered encouragingly as the foal rushed to her side and immediately thrust his head under to suckle.

Myrrina comforted him, and then convinced he was all right, turned to the business of giving him a good clean. Tallarook stood quietly while she groomed him, but when she hit a ticklish spot, he squirmed and snorted. She nipped him gently, and the mare did not finish until his brown coat was glossy and he was polished from head to foot.

OOC: Durroon is somewhere in the herd with Taworri. I just assumed the colts would be further off since most would have started to leave the herd by now.

[Tiggs]

The perpetually pregnant spotted mare ambled in the general direction of the black stallion. That constant smile was on her face, and her ratty tail flicked absently at her rump. Her yearling son, Tinar, grazed with his half-sister Uralla, and Copic, her most recent filly was not too far off, enjoying the warm weather. Castelle was likely romping with the other two-year-olds, and the bulge in her abdomen was impatient to join them. Prisma, her first born was well ahead with building his own herd, and her first filly, Kurrin, had joined a stallion and was pregnant with her first foal.

Crayola loved every single one of her sons and daughters with equal adoration, and it was thanks to her handsome mate that she was able to raise such a perfect (if somewhat huge) family. She waddled over to the stallion in question, and nosed his withers. She nibbled his mane, nuzzled his cheek and was back to grazing. Raising foals was a food-consuming business.


Meanwhile, one of the romping two-year-olds, Quinja was blowing heavily with the excursion. Tossing her greyed head, short black mane damp with lather, she dropped out of the game and rolled with absolute glee on the scratchy snowgrass. Oh! There was nothing more satisfying than a good roll.

Once she was done, she picked herself up and shook, a snowstorm of short black and white hairs littering the ground. She squealed and bucked, and with all her energy spent, she dropped her head to graze. She cast the occasional sidelong glance at Tingara. The stallion was not her father, as he was to all the other fillies and colts in the herd. This made things quite confusing for the maturing filly, and she often found herself looking at him.

[yaruka]

In the thick of the herd of mares grazed Taworri, standing comfortably by her wise friend, Durroon. To the right of her stood Barinya, her latest foal, tentatively nibbling at the grass, long legs braced impossibly far apart as he stretched to taste the green stems. The mare could tell the taste of the grass didn't quite suit Barinya's fancy just yet, the colt's black lips wiggled with distaste at the bitterness of the snowgrass root, but still he stubbornly continued to munch on the grass, convinced he should learn to like it. Taworri snorted softly in amusement, brown eyes gentle with affection as she kept an eye on her colt. Not far away her youngest daughter, Biara, grazed with some other two and three year olds, content to munch on the grass with the calmer youngsters. Kurrawa was a little different, a two year old colt he stayed mostly on the outskirts of the herd these days, playing roughly with the other colts and preparing to leave the large herd come next spring. The Moon Filly sighed sadly at the thought of the rest of her foals leaving so soon, Boorana had already gone off with the young stallion Werrilah, but knew that it was simply the way of the brush. She was content here, and though she missed Boorana and her dead stallion, Nevada, she lived a happy life with the KIng's large herd.
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Kooraloo was not one of the younger horses romping about and playing. Nor was she one grazing peacefully alongside Biara. Instead the pinto filly stood apart from the rest, impatient with life in the large herd. She disliked the noise and the commotion, and sourly avoided the others her age. As one of her half siblings charged over her way she lifted a hind leg in warning, ears pinned in irritation before resuming her grazing. Tingara's other daughters and colts were all so immature or passive, Kooraloo wanted a real life, with a real stallion. SHe was old enough to leave the herd now, too bad that no colts were brave enough to try and steal away the King's daughters.
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Wirruna grazed nearby Taworri and Durroon, liking the other mares' gentle company but content to remain in her own quiet bubble. Not the most sociable of mares, the chestnut pinto preferred to spend her time watching her newest foal romp and play with the others. Quahlee was shorter and stockier than the rest of the King's offspring, and so had some difficulty in keeping up with their energetic games, but Wirruna admired her son's sportsmanlike acceptance of his difference, and good-natured spirit as he played with the others as best he could. At the moment the colt slept soudnly by her feet, tired out from a morning of rough play.

[E!]

B O K A R A;;
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[/i] a mare, let alone fight to the death for a whole herd of them. Still, he was tempted by the sight of the young grey filly, romping and rolling, her eyes alight with the joy of being young.

A breeze blew toward him, and his nostrils quivered as her scent was blown straight to him - a temptation it seemed he could not resist. Moving silently through the pale trees, Bokara picked his way down to the far edge of the Brolga's Valley, his graceful bay body slipping between the trees elegantly. He was not a strong young beast - oh no, Bokara was certainly not a muscular creature. He was beautiful though, his long legs - ones that he had taken three years to grow into, were graceful and worked smoothly with his stride, his slender body was well defined and his head was quite handsome indeed. Liquid mahogany eyes, framed with a thicket of dark lashes, were quite alluring to mares and fillies alike - not that he had had any.

Indeed, Bokara had been alone since he had left his sires herd the year before. The other two year olds had formed a pack and rampaged their way through herds until they each had their own little band of fillies, while Bokara slinked away to be with himself and the silence of the bush, that was of course, not silence at all. He befriended bush creatures and if he was ever in need of company would seek out Tamaska, a young grey kangaroo whom he had a habit of bumping into. But now he wanted. He wanted this grey filly who held a spark of joy in every line of her body, he wanted her by his side. Just her.

And so, with a nervous fire in his beautiful eyes, he stepped forward, half out of the snowgums and half in. Nostrils quivering, he let loose a soft whicker, hoping to catch her attention. He would suffer a great beating for this if he were caught, but again, he had never felt a want for anyone as he felt for her.[/ul]

[Ehetere]

Moving quietly through the trees came a tall apricot coloured colt, nose to the ground, on the trail of a very large herd. Kirroo was looking for fillies to join him, as any young colt must do eventually, and now he was approaching his third year and truly becoming a stallion, he had decided now was the time.

The size of this herd did not concern him as much as it possibly should have, but Kirroo was not thinking that it must take a mighty powerful stallion to hold a herd of such a size. He was instead thinking that a large herd like this meant many mares for one stallion to keep an eye on, thus making sneaking away with one or two so much easier.

Keeping out of sight but peering through the bush, an enormous volume of horses were spread out in the valley beneath him. Mares, colts, yearlings, two year olds, fillies foals… and a large black stallion. Kirroo shivered nervously - despite not knowing who the current King was, coming from beyond Kosciusko, but even he could not ignore the obvious air of power around him. Despite this, Kirroo also recognised that the black was old, or at least ageing, and was unlikely to want to be chasing after pesky colts coming to investigate his offspring. Perfect.

He browsed over the real estate, so to speak, and he couldn’t believe his luck. So many pretty fillies! There were any number of them he’d like to have, but right now he was eyeing the other colts warily. They might be protective of their sisters.

Presently, movement caught his eye, and he whipped his head over to see another colt emerging from the trees. Kirroo snorted quietly in annoyance - he was the one who was supposed to be doing the stealing here. Still, this more hasty colt - or was it a stallion? - would distract the resident colts and the stallion so he could go about relatively unnoticed and undisturbed.

He turned his attention back to the herd, and settled his gaze on one particular filly - a mousy grey dappled one with a silver mane and tail. Her mother could be seen nearby - a moon filly for sure. He was excited - how lovely it would be to have a filly who was from a line of the breed of the moon? Her coat was far more unusual than that of a moon filly, softer looking too. Kirroo thought she was very beautiful indeed. And now he was determined to win her over.

Trotting quietly through the trees, he got as close to her as he could without leaving the shelter of the tree trunks which probably only half hid his pale body anyway. She was standing with some other horses - undoubtedly other offspring of the black stallion - but Kirroo paid them very little heed. Realising that he was going to be unable to catch her eye hiding in the scrub, he stepped rather ceremoniously out, arching his neck to show off his chocolate - orange mane, mixed with silver hairs. In truth he was a rather handsome, if unusual colt, and he hoped that the filly would appreciate this. Certainly he was more exotic than the black whom led this herd.

He gave a deep welcoming nicker, calling her over to him. The group of horses she was sheltering in was preventing him from reaching her, and he needed her over here if he wanted to convince her to come with him. Of course, his call and coat might have been enough in Kirroo’s mind, but perhaps she needed more convincing.

[Tiggs]

Quinja was started by the soft nicker, having never heard a call so sweet. It must not be for her, but when she turned to see the one who had made it, she spotted a shy bay stallion looking right at her! He glanced behind her to be sure, but yes, he was looking at her.

The greying filly felt a flush of glee, followed by a foreboding sense of dread. What was he doing?! He was going to be in trouble, propositioning a King’s mare like this. She could have easily alerted the others, but instead she stood stock still and stared.

After what seemed like an age, Quinja broke her trance and hurried over to the young stallion. He could not be seen in the open like this, and she nudged him him back into the safety of the trees and followed him.

OOC: Let's split these two off so they can chat while everything else is going on here I started a new thread for them here: *Clicky*

[tingara]

The peace that Tingara had felt as his head dropped to graze was doomed not to last. Strange scents blown on the gentle afternoon breeze immediately caused the black stallion to snap his head up and stand at attention. His nostrils quivered as he tried to discern where the intruding new males were. Nevada and is escapades before his death had left the King less tolerant of other stallions, aside from wise Nandalie, near his herd. Muscles tense and ready for action, the stallion trumpeted a warning to the strangers.

As soon as he spotted the apricot coloured one emerging from the trees Tingara tore across the valley towards him, bucking and rearing in a show of power and anger. Ears pinned flat on his neck; the black was in no mood for the games of a colt. Although angry at the other’s presence, the king did not attack him; instead he merely stood nearby and watched to make sure the young stallion had eyes only for his daughters. All unrelated mares were his and the youngster would do best to know it.

[Corowa]

Myrrina continued to crop at the snowgrass, even when Tingara gave a sudden, trumpeting neigh, and started to chase after another young stallion. The mare barely flinched. There were many young fillies here, and this was not the first time the huge mob of mares had been bothered.

Sometimes, the mare longed for the wide snowgrass plains of the high mountain country, where the drifts of snow lay deep, and the south winds howled. Ever since that terrible fight, the longing had grown stronger and stronger, until finally the mare could do nothing but go north.

Myrrina suddenly decided it would do some good to join the other mares and let Tallarook play. While she had been grazing, the colt had stood and impatiently watched the mob of mares. Ever since his mother had returned with him, he had not had many opportunities to run with the others.

So it was, when Myrrina started off in the direction of the mares, particularly towards the brown mare Durroon, the colt cantered on eagerly ahead, with a swish of his tail and a twitch of his ears.

Durroon looked up from her grazing, and greeted the other mare with a snort. Even though the two had only run in the same mob for a little while now, the two mares could usually be seen grazing together.

The brown mare had not given birth this year, and so she turned happily to Tallarook and sniffed at him until the colt propped back on his haunches with a playful squeal. Myrrina nudged him forwards, and the colt bounced, took two strides and was off.

Both mares watched on contentedly, while the bay colt bounded wildly about in the belly-high snowgrass. Even now, Durroon could see how Myrrina’s belly had widened and how much more vigoriously she grazed. Perhaps soon enough, it would be time for the mare to go off alone once more.

While Myrrina started to nibble at the rich snowgrass, Durroon stood with head held high and nostrils wide, sure she had seen something down amongst the dry and whippy eucalypts.

Her ears flicked back and forth, and she looked over to where their stallion stood, outlined by the timbered line of ridge. If it was another young stallion, he’d better be fast enough to outrun the stronger and more experienced Tingara.

Just at that moment, Myrrina lifted her head, and while the stallion still stood and stared intently after the intruder, the mare slipped off towards the fringe of snowgums. In an instant, Tallarook was there beside her, and she turned and gently nosed the bay colt.

Then from behind her, Durroon snorted softly, and Myrrina stopped to let the other mare catch up. The two mares flanked the young colt, and Tallarook pressed close to his mother’s side, both excited and confused. Myrrina pushed on into the rough timber, and soon enough, the horses moved out of sight.

OOC: Myrrina’s off to have some alone time, her and Durroon are going up to near Lake Cootapatamba. She’ll probably come back near the end of winter.

[yaruka]

Taworri raised her head with a quiet nicker of farewell as Myrinna and Durroon made their way from the herd. She knew the two would be back when they were ready, though her eyes belied her sadness at their departure. She was very fond of Durroon and would miss her wise friend while she was gone. With a gentle sigh she resumed grazing, only to be disturbed again at the foreign scent of first one, then a second, strange stallion. Relatively unconcerned, she merely shuffled farther from the younger males, unsurprised to hear Tingara’s angry call. She knew the black would not hurt the others without due cause so she continued to graze, keeping a careful watch on Biara, Kurrawa and Barinya. Her silver bay dun colt was, typically, being driven crazy by the presence of the newcomers, and she warned him with a meaningful glance to mind his own business as he pawed the ground and threw threatening looks at the strange stallions. Barinya remained relatively calm, ceasing his play to watch the others but not acting fearful. Reassuring herself that her two colts were safe, her gaze passed to Biara, noting as she did so the fascination the peculiarly coloured red stallion seemed to have for her daughter. Taworri was not surprised, Biara was a young, beautiful filly. But she was not the King’s daughter. The Moon Filly wondered how Tingara may react to this colt’s interest in her daughter and for a second a flicker of fear grew in her heart for this bold young male. But it was quickly quieted as she reasoned that Tingara would surely give the other a chance to leave peacefully once he was made aware of the true situation.
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As usual, Kooraloo found the disturbances that came with living in such a large herd to be irritating. But her irritation was noticeably quelled when she noted that the intruders were quite handsome young stallions. For once she stood among the herd, just as curious as the rest, her pricked ears doing much to improve her usually sour appearance. Her mother still ignored the others, choosing to keep grazing, this time towards the dependable Crayola. Quahlee, who had woken up when Tingara squealed, followed after her sleepily, too drowsy to think much of the newcomers.
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Before Tingara had noticed the intruders Biara had found herself disturbed, her skin prickling with the strange sense of being watched. Lifting her gentle head, she had looked into the trees to see a colt, rather foolishly attempting to hide his pale body amongst the dark trees. The colt stepped out, showing off for sure, though Biara was surprised to see that his attention seemed mostly focused on her. The quietest of her extraordinarily beautiful family, Biara was used to be overlooked. This new stallion’s unexpected attention came as quite a surprise therefore, and she flinched when she heard Tingara’s roar. The young stallion couldn’t possibly know that she was not actually the King’s daughter, and thus, technically, illegible for stealing. But Biara had never looked at Tingara as her stallion, absorbed into the herd as a yearling, he was very much an older stallion figure to her, not a mate. So this other stallion intrigued her more than he probably should have done. Drifting to the edge of the group of young horses, she stopped just short of their protection, gazing at the young male with dark, but gentle, eyes, bright with curiosity.