Earning His Spots [COROWA/R]

[yaruka]

In the shade of the snowgums by the Crackenback River grazed a lone roan stallion, his back and withers scattered with scars that also marred his already fragile confidence. Despite the darker blemishes across his coat, the stallion was handsome, though he himself would be the last one to think it. His ears flickered back and forth nervously, alternately listening for the return of his mares and any danger that may lie by this seemingly tranquil spot. The stallion's mind was on his last battle, the one where he had lost Goolara, and nearly his life, but mercifully been spared the lovely Goonama. It was largely thanks to this mare that he was still alive, for Bunda had been so injured, physically and more so mentally, that he doubted whether he would have had the strenght to make it through last winter without her. Now it was autumn, another winter nearly upon them, and Bunda's concerns were increased by the fact that his mares were unusually late to foal, and still had not returned to him. In the paranoid mind of the chocolate roan stallion anything could have happened to them, so it was with an anxious mind that he forced himself to keep cropping at the grass, attempting to bulk up so that he could better care for the mares and his soon-to-be offspring over the winter.

[Corowa]

The young mare grazed peacefully in the sheltered pocket of snowgrass. The only indication of movement, was the twitch of an ear or a swish of her tails at the flies. In the snowgrass nearby, a chestnut foal rested, and from time to time, the mare turned her head to watch him.

Goonama had hoped to find her stallion much sooner than this, but the bush creeks and lower flats had flooded. The mare had been forced to higher country, along with several other small mobs. It was only recently, Goonama had found her way back down to their old bimble.

But there was hardly much grass here for a mare with a foal at foot. Even though they did not normally need to leave until late winter, times had changed and the wild bush brumbies had moved down from the high plains much earlier than usual.

Most of the better grazing was gone, and it had been only luck that the mare had found something more than seed pods and wattle to eat.

Now though, such poor grazing would not be nearly enough, and Goonama thought they should head south to the rich plains of the lower country. Even though there were many more mobs there, most stallions would be too busy finding grazing and shelter for their mares, than to offer up a proper challenge.

Such thoughts bothered her, and with a snort, Goonama grazed her way over towards her foal and gave it a gentle nudge. The foal shook himself, and then finally stood, though it took him some time to properly balance on such long legs! The mare let him nurse a moment, before she gathered the foal up, and led him off down one of the stockman’s tracks.

Goonama found the stallion, grazing quietly beneath the shelter of some particularly large snowgums. He did not look up immediately, and so for a couple of minutes, the mare stood and watched him. There was no sign of Goolara, but perhaps the mare was not yet strong enough to return, or had been driven off by the marshy flats and flooded creeks.

Just then, Bunda seemed to notice something was wrong, and he lifted his head and looked about. Goonama decided it was best to let him know it was all right, and so she neighed to him, and started eagerly forwards. Only when they were one or two yards away, did Nooroo give a nervous snort, and stop all together.

The young foal stood and considered the stallion, and then without further fuss or need for encouragement, continued on. Finally, both mare and foal reached the stallion’s side, and while Nooroo stood beside her, with nostrils wide and ears curiously pricked, Goonama took a moment to look over her mate.

The mare knew how protective Bunda had been ever since that terrible fight and she hoped he had not worried too much while she had been gone. Then suddenly, Goonama thought of her foal, and with a loud snort and nudge, pushed him forwards. “I have brought you back a fine son, my mate,” she told him, “Nooroo, the quick.”

Goonama had cleaned every inch of the foal, from the tips of his ears, to his short wisp of a tail, and his bright chestnut coat was so glossy, he looked as good as any grazier’s thoroughbred.

[yaruka]

Bunda's skin twitched uncomfortably as he grazed, aware of some unseen eyes watching him perhaps. Trying to ignore what ever it was, sure the feeling was only born of his paranoia, the stallion forced himself to keep cropping the grass. But finally he could ignore the sensation no more, and raising his head he took a deep breath to scent the air. Just then a welcoming whinny met his ears and Bunda saw to his delight the return of Goonama, a leggy chestnut colt by her side.

A shuddering sigh of relief escaped him and eagerly he walked forward to meet the beautiful mare. When he reached her he nuzzled her lovingly, his dark muzzle snuffling at her neck to make sure she was truly alright. When she spoke he finally drew back, wishing he had said something more to her first, something suitable of a strong stallion to his mate. He was constantly insecure about his worthiness for such a lovely and strong mare. But her words reassured him a little and he replied proudly.

“He is a fine son indeed,” he said, gently lowering his head to gaze with kind eyes at the young horse. Carefully he offered his muzzle to his son, waiting to see if the colt would return his greeting.

OOC: so sorry for the long wait and rushed reply

[Corowa]

“It might be from the snow itself he is descended, but he is truly a colt of the sun,” Goonama told the stallion. Her trembling slowly quietened at his touch, and she was intensely aware of how every part of her throbbed with longing, so it was difficult to stand still, to contain the sudden restlessness that stirred deep within her.

There was no sign of that other white mare, Goolara. The mare had vanished into the bush, as sometimes the moonlight vanishes into the blackness of night. Surely though, she too would return, but Goonama found herself filled with fear that the mare might never be seen again, might have gone forever.

In the high branches of the snowgums, a currawong told of a splendid chestnut colt, swift as the winds are swift, inheritor of all the wisdom of the bush. The mare stirred at its joyful call, and she watched her son proudly, every part of him glistening brilliantly in the sunlight, so it seemed he was made from living light itself.

Nooroo too, listened to the high, clear call of the currawong, but he could not understand all that it told of. The colt sensed some strange excitement had come to this peaceful snowgum clearing, and he felt the sweat running down over his back, stinging his flanks so his hide prickled and he began to stir uneasily.

Nooroo did not move. The colt found himself intrigued by the sight of the big, kind-looking stallion. He had seen Goonama go to him, and he stretched out his nose, nostrils wide and quivering. Presently, every hair stood on end as if some knowledge had been passed to him, some message of immense importance, transmitted by each of those fine hairs that had been so thrilling to touch.