All Smothering Snow {Nepelle Herd / Nandalie Herd}

[Ehetere]

The winds howled overhead. Snow had been falling hard and fast, but the chestnut stallion knew that the storm was close to blowing itself out. Throwing his noble head skyward, he cast his gaze upon the high walls of the valley he had led his herd to.

Hunger was tugging at his stomach as it often did in winter, and the increasing need to find food to feed his mares and in turn their growing foals was strong. This winter had so far been a hard one, with snow smothering the country in a white blanket. He had been searching for a deep valley such as this in the hope that the tall sides would keep much of the snow and weather out, and perhaps offer some seed pods to eat and a creek to drink at.

The snow did seem thinner and patchier on the ground, and he whinnied encouragement to the line of horses following him. His four mares and four young horses - only two of which were of his own blood. He cared for them all the same, as was his responsibility as their stallion, but held more affection for his own two daughters.

The young colt Omeo had been banished from the herd by Fira when he had gone to retrieve her wayward daughter Alinta. The bay filly was a very flighty thing, which could be troublesome especially with his increasing herd size. Nepelle also suspected the roan colt was still shadowing the herd; as he had been sure he had glimpsed the coat of the youngster on more than one occasion. No reason to anger Fira though - she was fair more amiable not knowing.

Deeper into the valley he travelled, and conditions became a little more claustrophobic as the canyon walls narrowed. He continued however, thanks to the gradually decreasing amount of snow. Nepelle’s pace increased, and he rounded the bend to find a dead end. The clearing he discovered however was very sheltered, with only a light dusting of snow and bacon-and-egg bushes along with a few seed pods which still looked palatable.

“Come!” he called to his mares and their offspring, his joyful whinny sounding clamouring echoes off the high rock walls. He proceeded to drop his nose to the earth and went sniffing around for any holes or hidden pools which might be a danger to any of the youngsters, and did find a frozen soak hole at the end of the cosy clearing, which he tapped at with his hoof to break into so his thirsty mares could drink along with the foals if they wished.

[Tiggs]

In the depth of winter, this chestnut stallion was faring only slightly better. Nandalie’s knowledge of the High Country was a year more advanced than Nepelle’s, and he was leading his herd down to this sheltered valley on purpose. Many of Nandalie’s chosen spots were not well known, but as a result they were all quite small. His growing herd needed constant grazing, so most of the winter had been spent moving from place to place, depleting grass reserves as they went.

His winter coat was almost a solid chestnut. The roan in his body kept the russet dulled and if compared to the stallion who he was about to encounter, he would appear to be a washed out version. The stallion led his mares and foals into the mouth of the valley, and felt himself relax. He nickered to his mares, signalling that they were to stop. The stallion then dropped his head, moving into the valley as he grazed.

A print in the snow caught his eye, and he trotted over to it. Ears flickered, and sound bounced back to him from further in the valley. Another herd! Nandalie stomped a hoof in a rare sign of frustration. He had been hoping to find this place first, but it seemed he’d been beaten to it. He could not make his mares and foals move now, they were tired from travelling. He would have to resort to driving the other herd off. A task he never enjoyed, but winter was a hard time and he had to put his family first.

Tossing his head, the chestnut psyched himself up before trumpeting a challenging call into the narrow valley. He stood firm and noble, a proud chestnut stallion with scars darkening his coat. He was a bight contrast against the snow, and behind him as a backdrop of over a dozen brumbies, mares and foals that proved just how successful he was. He was confident about this challenge, and he let it show.

[Ehetere]

Nepelle took a long draught of the freezing water, shaking his coat as he felt the cool liquid sliding down his throat. It was refreshing, and after a few more gulps, his thirst was quenched for the moment. Stepping away from the pool he let his mares have open slather, trotting happily over to a bacon-and-egg bush to snatch a bite to eat.

A sound came echoing up the valley and Nepelle’s head snapped up, ears pricked, listening. That was the call of another stallion. It was a challenge. Snorting, he threw a glance around to all his mares, before raising his own voice with a wild ringing answer of his own.

He was full of life and strength, a stallion in his prime, and would soon be fighting for the food that would keep his mares alive. No hesitation could be afforded now, and nor did he feel like he should. He had every reason to go charging up the valley like he owned the world, chestnut mane and tail flying behind him. He rounded the corner, pulling to a sharp stop to assess his opponent, whom until now he could have only guessed at.

The other stallion was mature and experienced, a fact only further demonstrated by his herd of mares who were standing behind him. Nepelle might have balked, but there was no where to run - only backwards towards his herd again or forwards towards the stallion. There was going to be no backing down here.

The stallion opposite him was chestnut, though not the same brilliant red colour that his own coat took, more a washed out pale version. He was also covered in battle scars, which made Nepelle very nervous indeed. This stallion would be his match, not a young or inexperienced opponent. He could very well be battling to his own death here.

How that he were here in front of him, Nepelle let out another call, impatient to get this fate over with before he could lose any more courage.

[Tiggs]

There was a swift reply, and soon the other stallion was in sight. A fiery red stallion, and by the tracks leading further into the valley, he had a fair-sized herd of his own. The roan snorted and tossed his head. The other stallion was about his age, and they seemed well matched in size. The fact that the other male was not hasty was a bad sign. The two were likely matched in experience too. Nandalie would have respected this stallion in any other situation.

Nandalie did not bother with theatrics or grandstanding, and he got straight to the point. He came trotting toward the chestnut opponent, keeping a wary eye on his feet and head in case he were to strike first. He tried a cursory kick, testing the stallion’s reflexes. He had not spotted any lameness as he’d approached, so Nandalie hoped he could quickly assess this stallion’s skill and work out how best to beat him.

[Ehetere]

A calm entered Nepelle’s mind as the washed out chestnut approached him, and he wondered whether this was what a life and death experience was like. He suddenly thought of his mares a little way back in the valley, those whom he loved. Fira, Jannali, Kala, his two beloved daughters and dear sweet Kurrin. He had not had a chance to say goodbye.

He snapped out of this frame of mind as the other chestnut came within striking distance. He could not think of them until this fight was won or lost. Nothing else would exist in the world save for him and the other chestnut.

The other threw a tentative kick at him and he dodged nimbly, checking his footing. The ground here was fortunately not too slippery, but with the light covering of ice it would soon become muddy from two stallions thrashing about on it.

Pivoting, Nepelle spun around with his teeth barred ready to snap and bite. He was a little worried about the other stallion’s bulk - he wouldn’t be able to use his own weight against his opponent much here. He was just going to have to use his wit, cunning, experience and hope that an opening would present itself.

[Tiggs]

So the stallion was sturdy on his feet. Nandalie’s feet skidded slightly on hidden ice, and he had to check his stride carefully. The other stallion’s strike was not easily dodged, and Nandalie squealed as teeth closed on his neck. He turned into the attack, thrashing with his front legs and partly rearing to keep his weight on his haunches.

To lame the stallion would be cruel, especially in this weather, but if he had no other alternative he would have to attempt it. For now, he would have to prove that he could lame the chestnut if he wanted, and hope that it was enough to make the other stallion back down.

[Ehetere]

Nepelle’s teeth bit into flesh as the other stallion struggled to maintain his balance on a particularly icy patch, and he made a note to be careful of that as they weaved their way around, locked together in a deadly dance.

Jumping back to avoid the other’s flailing legs; Nepelle felt a hoof slash at his chest in his retreat. Flanks straining, he kept himself from toppling over and maintained balance in a half rear. Not wanting to give the other stallion another opportunity to knock him to the ground, Nepelle sprang forward to bite at the chestnut’s withers before propping and kicking out with a hind leg.

[Tiggs]

Nandalie grunted, feeling the kick hit him squarely in the ribs. The chestnut was not giving him the chance to use his strength, and Nandalie was too slow to land a bite as the stallion wheeled away. His nostrils flared, and he followed closely after the stallion, angled away from his rump. He lunged forward, trying to capture the stallion in a wither grip.

The ground under his feet alternated between solid and sodden, and he was beginning to feel increasingly nervous. He had to be careful where he put his feet, and that was more attention than he wanted to spare. With his ears pinned back, he gave a sudden surge of movement forward, hoping to catch the chestnut off guard and hold him.

[Ehetere]

Nepelle kicked off the ground harder as the chestnut charged after him, sliding away from the others teeth. He propped to a halt, skidding a little on the icy slippery ground. He saw the other coming at him with his teeth barred, and tried to dodge out of the way a little too late. He felt sharp teeth biting into his neck, but because he at least had made an attempt to dodge he could tell to was not a good hold.

Digging his heels into the ground, he tried the wrench his body away from the other stallion, pushing off the ground and kicking out with all his might in hopes of dislodging him.

[Tiggs]

The hold was successful, but not solid. Nandalie bit deeply into the crest of the other male, but the protective mane made the grip difficult and his teeth slipped free, ripping hair with it. The slightly older stallion stumbled at his opponent’s almighty buck, and in a vain hope to recover the advantage, he brought his knees up and tried to kick at the other stallion’s legs.

His coat was darkening with sweat, and the fighting was beginning to take its toll on his energy levels. Without a clear win soon, he would have to bow out, allowing the other stallion to keep the grazing for himself. Nandalie had no intention of fighting until he was exhausted, he simply could not afford the stress.