Waiting For The Future [Corowa/O]

[Cheyenne]

Through the dark, Rio followed the alluring scent of the mare. It was like a perfume that lingered around him. So beautiful. Ignoring the pain as much as he could, the stallion moved as fast and as quietly as he could through the overgrown track. Twigs brushed against his soaking wet pelt.

The danger of the coming snow didn't bother Rio. He was young and had survived every winter easily before. It seemed no big deal to him. A little injury was going to make it just that bit harder but not by much, could it? His expression was calm and relaxed - the complete opposite to the mare's.

Flashes of lightning followed by the deep booms of thunder crashed above them making Rio jump. They finally stopped under the shelter of the white snowgums, the pain in his injuries even worse than before.

"No, don't worry, I'm fine," he lied when the mare said she hoped he did not strain him too badly, he didn't want to worry her. Her velvet nose pressed against his coat as she nibbled at the injury in his shoulder. He was about to repeat what he just said but decided it felt good so he didn't. He just let her carry on.

Snowflakes were falling slowly now, spiraling down and clinging onto their manes and tails. Rio lifted his nose into the air and tried to catch one on his stuck-out tongue. Looking back at the mare, he wondered what she was called. He didn't think they had introduced themselves properly yet, what with all the confusion and drama when they first saw each other. "Sorry," he apologized. "I must have forgotten my manners. I'm Rio by the way. May I ask what pretty name matches your pretty face." He grinned a cheesy smile.

[Corowa]

Noorinbee stood, tense and still, listening to the wind, as it at rushed through the uppermost snowgums, tore at the great alpine ash further up that steep, rough slope. The ribbons of bark streamed out on the wind, and Noorinbee felt the hairs on her back stand on end at their soft creak and moan.

The mare and stallion stood, shoulder to shoulder, flank to flank. “I am Noorinbee,” she said proudly to him. “I was born north of here, up near the Leather Barrel Valley. It is for the north I am named, and to the north I will one day return, to race the wide stretches of snowgrass and challenge even the winds themselves with my swiftness.”

Her mind stirred with memories, which had once seemed no more than a half-memory of a dream. Not since her capture had she been so high up into the mountains, and she found herself suddenly filled with such an intense longing for the rough rocky tors and bare snowgrass ridges of the Ramshead Range.

“One day perhaps I will go there with a stallion by my side,” she said shyly. “A stallion pale as the snowgums, one to vanish into the snow and wind.” Noorinbee turned and rested her head on his withers, trusting herself to him. She was glad for the nearness of the stallion, and the warmth of his touch stilled all the restless longing within her.

The stallion still looked so strained, the mare felt stirred by a sudden fierce affection for him. “You must rest if your shoulder is to mend,” she told him. “I will watch over you and make sure none but the mopoke find you here.” Noorinbee gave him a gentle nudge with her nose, and then started to paw at the snow-covered snowgrass, clearing away a little of the snow to make a soft place for the stallion to rest.

[Cheyenne]

Rio couldn't help but give the kind filly a warm smile as he carefully rested himself on the clear-of-snow spot Noorinbee had made for him. Had she said that she would one day love to race the winds in the North with him? His thoughts took him away from the scene he was enjoying, taking him away to Leather Barrle Valley - wherever that was. In the pictures that formed inside his head were two crystal white horses galloping together over the fresh grass under the warm sun.

"Perhaps the mopoke will tell others we are here," he suggested, a smile of humor spreading across his handsome face. "Lets just say you will watch over me and make sure nobody finds us here. I thank you for your kindness but you really don't have to waste your time with me if you don't want to." He wasn't trying to get of her, no, definetley not, he was just wondering why a pretty mare like herself who he had only just met would give up the time to help some injured stallion escape the snow.

"You like to race the winds?" Rio asked, a smile playing over his lips. "Well, that pale stallion is a very lucky horse and would love to gallop by your side once he has healed." Rio couldn't think of anything better than to run with Noorinbee, the wind catching in their snowy manes.

[Corowa]

“Perhaps the mopoke will tell only of a splendid grey stallion, and his mate,” Noorinbee answered wisely, and she dropped her nose to the stallion, and gently touched it to his ears. In the stillness of the night, she could feel the very pulse of the bush throb in her blood. Every nerve seemed to tingle with that faint throb and beat.

Further up the slope the storm still thundered and blew, and the rain began again. Over the sound of the storm, there was the distant roar of water. There had been so much rain, so much rain, to loosen snow and turn even the small bush creeks into raging torrents. The mare crept closer to the stallion, sensed that something thrilling had entered her world.

“Then I will wait for him,” she said softly, “Until he is strong enough to follow the call of the wind, until he is once more possessor of all the strength and wisdom of the High Country.” Noorinbee watched the stallion earnestly, wondered if he could feel the strange tension in the night. Something unusual was about to happen, something, which suddenly seemed of immense importance.

Noorinbee stood with eyes half-closed, drowsing. In her mind, there was a vision of two silver-grey horses, racing through the half-light of night, their pale legs twinkling in the moonlight, so they seemed no more than lissom wraiths. Then presently, from higher up, in one of the big snowgums, a mopoke called out once and was silent. The mare shivered, for even in her sleep, Noorinbee could hear the unspoken promise of sorrow in its call.

[Cheyenne]

"Maybe," Riowhispered, unsure on what to say next. A strange sensation ran through his body as Noorinbee touched his ears, like a shiver oflightning running down his spine. It was a feeling he had never experianced before but it was something he liked. He raised his nose to touch hers as the same electric shock shimmered down his back.

The rain began to fall heavily again, thudding loudly against their flesh and running down their long faces until dropping off at the end of their noses. The strong wind rushed in and out of the few leaves that clung to the trees for dear life.

Rio began to think about what Noorinbee had said. Images formed in his head of two ghosts horses as pale as the snow leaping over creeks side-by-side - images he yearned to be real so badly. Rio decided there was no point waiting for his dreams to happen, he was going to try to make them happen.

"Noorinbee," he started shyly, shifting his weight slightly underneath him. "Do you really want to run with me? Is that what you really wish for?" He wanted to make sure that this was no joke, that she was not trying to make a fool out of him - just in case. Rio couldn't think of anything better than to spend a long and happy life with this filly.

[Corowa]

The wind had dropped off, though the great streamers of bark still sighed and creaked, and surely now, there was the soft sound of falling snow. Everywhere, the bush was silent, but Noorinbee sensed nothing menacing in this strange stillness, felt instead the promise of something exciting.

Noorinbee stirred and glanced down at the stallion, no more than a pale streak in the blackness of the night. She remembered the touch of his nose, felt once more that same strange shiver run through her, which had made the blood throb in her veins and every part of her tingle, as if she had galloped wildly through the wind-tossed night.

Now the mare pricked her ears forwards, and she dropped her nose to touch his ears once more. “I will run with you for as long as I live, until even the mighty snowgum is felled by the tearing winds and the deep waters of Lake Cootapatamba lay still beneath the snow,” she said, and Noorinbee let her nose travel over his head and neck, memorised each part of him, every proud line of him.

“Now rest,” she told him. “Rest, so you might be strong enough to follow me when the wind calls, and I must answer its challenge with my own.” Noorinbee lay down beside the stallion then, and she rested her head on his withers, glad for his nearness, though the eeriness of the night had gone.