A Failed Legacy? [EHETERE]

[yaruka]

The grasses of Paddy Rush's Bogong were grazed upon by many horses, small herds and bachelors alike. It was for this reason that Yarran had come here, for it was unlikely that any of the stallions would bother to chase him off as long as he kept to himself. The young grey stallion was quite out of spirits lately, having lost his only company, and only mare, the same night he met her, in a terrible thunderstorm on top of Mt. Kosciusko. He had come here for company as much as grass, and though it caused him pain to be seperate from the other small families of horses, it was better than being completely by himself.
As the mulberry grey grazed his way along the edge of the Bogong he once again thought of Myali, that mysterious mare whom he had lost. Together they had raced the storm down the mountain, and he had made it to shelter with her, but before he knew it she was gone like the snow in the summer, one second standing beautifully before him, at the next crack of thunder bolting away.Despite his best efforts, Yarran had been unable to track her in the terrible weather, her scent having been washed away by the relentless rain, and the thunder drowning all other noise.
SIghing, the stallion forced his thoughts away from the bay mare. Thinking of her only made him more sad, and re-enforced his sense of having failed his sire as his first son. By now Yarran had heard the sad news of Nevada's death, and paid his respects to him at the base of Yarraman's Valley. The young horse sincerely hoped that where ever Nevada's spirit was now, it wasn't looking down on him in scorn and disappointment.

[Ehetere]

Eerawai trotted happily through the dappled sunlight, her dainty hooves making not a sound on the springy snowgrass. The was an inner joy that seemed to radiate out of her, the same joy that many young animals possessed - the joy for life.

For the past year she’d spent her time exploring the exciting lands north of Kosciusko, and regularly visiting the two twin lakes: Lake Albina and the Blue Lake. Oh how lovely it had been to go swimming and splashing and frolicking in their gloriously clear waters. She’d wandered northwards still, to the Geehi and onto the mysterious Grey Mare Range. But for all the north’s beauty and wonder, Eerawai had been unable to shake the feeling of home sickness that had been growing in her and she had returned south to the High Country once more.

Her travels had been slow, for she had been torn between the unexplored lands of the north and her home in the south. It was only now, in late Autumn, that she finally returned to her mountain home with the threats of winter forcing her even further south. For now though, while snow lay un fallen, she had come down the Ramshead Range and had crossed Dead Horse Creek in the dead of night before setting off up the Crackenback. She was hungry and longing for the sweet grass of Paddy Rush’s Bogong, and finally it seemed she had found it.

Walking quietly to the edge of the trees, she peered out to find the area not filled, but certainly occupied by a good number of other horses. For one who had seen little company for the last year or so, she had grown accustomed to her solitude and was now wary of large crowds.

Her gaze fell on a lone colt, a queerly coloured grey who was perhaps a young stallion, standing quite close, but not enough to hear or see her. She studied him, for his coat was rather peculiar indeed with his pale grey body and vibrant orange mane. The horse, who she guessed was probably about her age, wore an expression of loss on his features; or was it sadness or grief? His posture was dejected that was for certain, and Eerawai felt her heart reach out to the poor creature. She too had known these things in her short life, and it saddened her to see another animal to have to go through the same pain. It was this that in the end convinced her to step out of her cover and the trees and into the brittle sunlight.

She threw him a gentle nicker, a welcome of sorts, ears twitching nervously. She hoped that none of the other stallions in the Bogong would wish her for their herds, for then she would have to melt away and vanish into the bush, and she would never find out what was troubling the young stallion.

“Greetings, young stallion,” she called to him, closing the distance between them and coming to a halt a few feet in front of him. “You seem rather lonely out here on your own surrounded by all these brumbies. Why do you not graze with them?”

[yaruka]

Yarran was so wrapped up in lonely musings that the quiet nicker quite startled him. Throwing his head up in surprise, he spun half about, rather embarrassed when he saw that it was a filly, a rather pretty filly, that had startled him. Ears flickering uncertainly he looked to her, wondering if she might just leave right then, after all what stallion jumped at the sound of a nicker? But his mortification was soon replaced by a cautious hope when the filly approached, talking to him even.
“Greetings to you also,” he replied, wondering how best to answer her question and account for his separation. Deciding honesty was the best policy he added, “I graze alone for I do not belong with anyone of these herds. I am from higher country, and having left my birth herd I am now making my own way towards grazing for the winter.” He didn’t mention the fact that he’d left Nevada’s herd a good year and a half ago and still didn’t have a herd of his own. Best to leave that embarrassing fact out of it for now. Realising then that he had yet to introduce himself, he spoke again, “I am Yarran, named for the lightning that streaks across the stormy sky. What may I call you?”

[Ehetere]

Eerawai was rather amused that she had started him. Perhaps a horse more in tune with the bush would have spotted her, but then again maybe not. She had been going very quietly, and she could indeed move without being seen though the trees thanks to her coat.

She nodded in recognition when he returned her greeting, pleased to see that he at least had manners. Some stallions could be impeccably rude or overbearing or arrogant. She had met a few such examples on her travels up north, and had left them all confused, wandering alone and lost after they’d chased after her. Still, the losing them had been fun at least, quite like a game.

Eerawai became excited when he mentioned higher country – perhaps he enjoyed traveling as much as she! “Do you like to wander also, Grey Stallion?” she asked, her voice sounding charged with energy of memories and mysterious unknown lands. Few stallions or mares for that matter were as silent in the bush and could not pick their way as she could. Her mother had taught her well, and she was yet to find an equal to herself. How exciting!

“Well, lightning that streaks across the stormy sky,” she began, playfully pacing around him to get a look at him from every angle. “I am called Eerawai, for to many, I am a mirage.”

She tugged teasingly at his orange mane, taking a few dancing steps backwards. She loved dancing and playing, and had not had the chance to share the joy of it with another brumby for many moons. This colt, or stallion, was hardly one whose appearance could be called offensive in any way. If anything, it would be mysterious – something magical.

Her own coat was not truly anything of not; it was not silver or the colour of the moon, but it was practical. She realized that the stallion’s coat may not be very practical for hiding in the bush, but then again, why would it have to be? Stallions could not be claimed or owned by another, they went as they pleased. Mares like herself who wished to keep their freewill were better off with plainer coats that merged with the bush and the shadows of the night. Still, perhaps with the right stallion a mare could retain her freedom.

[yaruka]

Yarran’s blew out uncertainly threw his nostrils at the filly’s amused expression, though he supposed amused was better that disgusted. He continued to watch her somewhat uncertainly, suddenly shy now that he was faced with another horse his age, a filly his age.
“Do you like to wander also, Grey Stallion?” asked the blue roan. Yarran was relieved to hear such an easy question to answer.
“I do,” he answered, “My sire was never one to maintain his herd in one single location, and a love of travel was instilled in my blood from my birth.” Suddenly worrying that she would think him incapable of holding a bimble, he hurriedly added, “Though I do not object to remaining in one place for a time either.”

The filly moved, dancing about him, mocking him gently. Yarran’s eyes followed her, still insecure. How did you deal with a filly that was bolder than yourself? He wanted so desperately to impress her.

She pulled teasingly at his vibrant mane, and he twisted to nip her blue shoulder. “Eerawai is a beautiful name,” he answered her carefully, trying to sound impressive and polite at the same time. Stallions weren’t supposed to come across too meek after all. He watched her captivating steps with fascination, pulling himself together when he suddenly realised he was belying his interest far more than he should. It was all a game these things, you couldn’t just let your emotions show on your sleeve.

[Ehetere]

Eerawai propped neatly to a halt in front of Yarran, surveying him carefully. She nearly laughed again when he mentioned his joy for wandering only to add in that he could stay in one place if he so wished too. This was far more fun than listening to heavily built slab shouldered stallions boast about how many poor innocent colts they had thrashed in the last week. This was also honest for a start.

Eerawai was a fairly playful and happy mare, and very little save tragedy could distress her, and she very dearly wanted the colt to join in with her games. He was so nervous! It was very near comical, although she supposed a mare who had so much confidence might be a rare sight, especially one who did not have a mean temperament to go with it.

She was flattered by his compliments, for she was not usually called beautiful, or anything of the sort. Her kind nature and playfulness more often caught the eye of wandering stallions, who wanted to possess such a mare to stroke their own egos, and her plainer coloured coat simply seemed to exclude her from the category of beautiful mares.

“Why so serious?” she asked him playfully, nudging him gently on the shoulder with her nose, looking up at him and now moving away again. She was small, that could simply not be denied, and she doubted she would ever grow to be very tall at all. At least she was lithe also, and did not look like an overgrown wombat like some unfortunate mares.

“We are young and carefree in this world! Why should young horses like us have worries and inhibitions? Come! Playing would do you some good.”

She sprang away then, whinnying joyfully - not caring who heard her. This was the joy that life was meant to bring to all creatures. She spun back to face the direction of the colt while pushing her body into a magnificent half rear in a demonstration of balance and surprising strength. Though at first glance she may be nothing much, but her inner happiness shone out of her with a brightness akin to a star in the pitch black night sky.

[Rivre]

She was not entirely sure that she followed the right scent, the quaint little mare who tore so freely down the shaly track; her neat hooves slipping easily into the anchient foot holds of her ancestors, hind quarters braced as she leaped once more, slamming into yet another rock formation of the landside.
The pale snowgum's silvering branches whipped her hide, their leather-thick leaves leaving waxy streak to her bay hide, darkened by the sweat which coated her. As she continued with her trotting lolop, ears flickering uncertainly. she thought once again to that night above the clouds and in that storm, how she had lost her foothold and tumbled from the cliff onto the tor of candlebark and snowgrass below. How she called that fatefull night, watching her stallion tear past in fear for her, screaming to the winds which took the power of his call off into the night. Much pain had followed that fall of course, leading to her lameness for a week or so before she had finally been able to escape the mountains fury and flee to the lower country once more.

Now snow dusted the earth of Paddy Rush's Bogong, filling her hooves with the uncomfortable packed white ice and stinging her eyes as she had traveled. Here it was lesser than higher up, and she was grateful for that at least, but now was not a time to worry about such things as the weather, for she had found traces of her lost one, his track and his mulberry hair. Now there was a purpose to her travel, and a purpose indeed to her thoughts.

But she must be careful now, because she neared others horses, and perhaps other stallions which she did not wish to meet. And so she slowed the pace to a walk, moving lithely onto the snowgrass so that she could move with no sound, avoiding the snowgums wisp and touch. She would not just be a part of the game, she would not be a victim.
At one point she believed herself to have lost the trail, but soon picked it up again near a little creek, nose to the ground as she traveled. So he was moving towards more horses? Was he as lonely as she?

Being so intent on her tracking, she nearly fell upon two horses, and was about to protest in anger, ears flickering back in surprise, when she realized that he was one of the two, and slipped quickly backwards into the cover of the snowgum and candlebarks.
He was with another filly? Well, she could hardly blame him, after having seen her slightly more than made dash down a mountainside towards what could only be their deaths. But at the time, death hadn't seemed so bad, considering the horridness of her previous stallion whcih quickly led to his own end. Perhaps she would watch a while from her cover, barely breathing as she strained her lobes forward, trying to catch their words.

OOC; Sorry if I'm not welcome here, just let me know and I'll butt out

[yaruka]

Why so serious? Good question, if only she knew how hard he was struggling not to make a mistake here. On second thought, it was much better that she didn't know.

What was the matter with him? He was acting like a shy yearling, not a young stallion! Watching her play, he stepped hesitantly forward to join in, rearing up in answer to own half-rear. Watching her evident light-heartedness he found himself beginning to relax, and coming down to all four of his feet he snaked his neck forwards to nip her teasingly on the neck.
"Teach me," he said simply, his eyes brightening with mischief.

He was so engaged by the blue roan filly's charm that he had not yet noticed the eyes of the other filly, his lost companion, watching him from the brush.

[Ehetere]

Eerawai nickered encouragingly to the young stallion as he made moves to join her. She wanted to play! It was rather good she’d have someone to enjoy her dance with now. She giggled at the colts words - an unusual occurrence for her, as she had wizened beyond her years in her travels. But fortunately she had retained her young playfulness, and she gave Yarran a gently tug on the mane for his trouble.

She wanted to engage the queer but beautiful young stallion in a game of tag, since she had not had a companion for such a game in quite a while. She cavorted around like any young thing should before stopping dead in her tracks.

Had she just seen movement in the snowgums?

Eerawai peered into the trees and their shadows warily, her ears half pinned. Things that crept through the bush and hid themselves from view were often not friendly. She took a hesitant step back, still not taking her eyes off the trees in fear of what might step out of them.

[Rivre]

Perhaps it was fateful that this other little filly was more observant than he, her stallion, but she did not question it, merely admitted defeat. Pushing her muzzle cautiously through the waxy leaves of the protecting snowgums, Mayali snorted quietly to the blue roan, ears flickering with unease. She meant no harm, and she made it obvious in the way she stepped anxiously from her cover, brown hide slick with sweat from her heated journey, auburn saucers glazed with happiness as they fell to her curiously colored stallion, nickering a soft greeting.
"I knew I would find you, for you saved me that day Yarran and those who are given new life do not easily forget their savior," stretching the full length of her neck, she nibbled softly at the ends of his orange mane, full of love, "I fell from the ledge and I called, but the wind must have taken my voice and you went on past me - but now I have found you, and only have I done that because I spied you from my ledge, searching for me. No one has done that for such a plain looking filly as I before, thankyou."
As she spoke she became very aware of the other pretty-looking roan beside her, and eyed her curiously, but with it was a kindness she had not shown other mares before - for she did not particularly like them.
"And who is this, so full of joys in this dappled light of spring?" she queried, gaze flickering from one to the other reasonably sane.