Filly Made of Snow {Omeo}

[Ehetere]

Light began to slowly seep over the snow covered landscape once more. Everything was white - the vague shapes of trees and bushes weighed down by the whiteness that was blanketing the world. The skies were grey - more snow was to come for sure. The effect was very monochromatic, and quite blinding.

In the otherwise still and silent landscape, the sound of a shrill excited whinny rang out, and out of a clump of ice enclosed shrub burst another white shape. Her pale legs were sinking into the freezing mass a little, but not too much as she was still small and lithe. Pale pink skin was revealed beneath her snow white coat, which glittered a little in the brittle daylight. Only her mane and tail were not completely white, and the faintest fading of brown around her eyes. Here was a filly made of snow.

Lentara let out another loud cry of joy, and bounded forward again, looking skyward. Where was the pretty bird that she had been chasing? It must have escaped her back in the bush somewhere. Shaking the cold ice crystals from her white streaked mane, she looked around, trying to figure out where she was.

She’d wandered away from her mother a little while ago - distracted by the pretty bird, but now she wanted to do some exploring. The snow was so exciting! She particularly loved rolling in it, and how funny it was when her mother could not see her in it sometimes.

She set off at a canter then, glancing behind her to see puffs of snow flying up. She whinnied for the third time before climbing a gentle rise, and then rolling down the other side - snow flying everywhere.

[Tiggs]

Omeo was in good spirits. He had managed to catch a glimpse of Alinta, and assured that she was fine, he spent the rest of the day grazing in a lesser-used part of the King’s valley. The snow was deep and crisp, but the colt managed to find enough grass for himself by shovelling the snow from the ground with broad hooves.

His ears flickered at the sounds of other horses not far away, but they were not close enough to bother him. A sudden near whinny caught his attention though, and he raised his chestnut-brown head from the ground. He could not see anything, then suddenly a drift of snow was disturbed and a pair of floating eyes stared back at him.

Omeo snorted in a mixture of surprise and confusion. The more the shape moved, though, he managed to distinguish a horse-like shape. The colt nickered and tossed his head. High-stepping to avoid tripping, he made his way over. On closer inspection, it was a young filly! A yearling, but with a strange face that she appeared older.

The colt automatically reached out his dark muzzle, nostrils flaring as he took a measure of her. “Hello.” He greeted her, liquid-brown eyes curious, darkly-tips ears straining forward in his excitement. Compared to her, he was quite normal. His roaned pelt was covered up with tawny winter fur, and with light brown body and darker mane and tail, he looked like a simple yet dilute bay. The dorsal stripe down his back was clear, but the leg barring was obscured by the long hair.

[Ehetere]

Lentara picked herself up from the snow covered ground and shook her coat free of excess snow. That had been fun! She giggled to herself, before a half noise caught her attention. She pricked her pale ears curiously, and tried to focus on where the sound had come from. Not that it took many detective skills to spot the older colt who was now making his way over.

She sniffed at his outstretched muzzle excitedly and wagged her furry whisk of a tail in excitement when he greeted her in a friendly fashion.

“Hello,” she replied almost immediately, with a little giggle, taking a half step forward in eagerness. “I’m Lentara, who are you? Are you a colt from a nearby herd? Do you have your own herd? My father is a spotty stallion like my mother, only he has white spots and not black. I’m not sure why I’m not very spotty, my mother doesn’t like it very much as she can’t see me easily in all this snow. Do you have spots under your winter coat? Or are you like that mare Calca who was born without spots?”

Lentara, like her mother, was born to talk. In her young and curious state, she was always asking questions, constant questions. Luckily her mother was the happy go lucky type and did not become easily frustrated with her daughter’s constant stream of chatter.

She looked more curiously at the colt, trying to deduce some of her questions for herself. The problem was that his shaggy winter coat would hide any spots he might have. She did notice his rather curious colour however, and his dorsal stripe. That mare Calca had a dorsal stripe. She pondered over this for a moment, but for once held her tongue so that the colt could speak for himself.

[Tiggs]

The colt was stunned to silence for a moment, and then he laughed. “Why yes, you certainly have more spots than me.” Any tension Omeo might have expected from a first meeting with a young filly was not present. The yearling was excitable and curious, and seemed obsessed with spots. Her questions were a bombardment, and he tried to answer them all.

“I’m Omeo, but I’m not from a herd – I’ve left mine.” See: forced out. “I don’t have any spots, I don’t think, but I do turn a different colour in the summer. My father was white, like you, but without the spots, and he was white the whole time. I’m only partly white some of the time.” The name Calca rang a distant bell, however, and he struggled to think why. Logically he must have heard the name when he was living with the herds.

“Calca? I don’t remember... AH!” He colt tossed his head proudly. He remembered that name because the loudest mare in Tingara’s herd occasionally blabbed about her. Calca was her daughter, but Tingara had not been the father. It was Omeo’s father, Nevada, who had sired the moonfilly’s daughter Calca, but Calca had left the herd with Tingara’s first born son Prisma... A spotted black stallion... Omeo made a little gasp and looked at Lentara with a new appreciation. If Prisma was her father, then she was a Princes daughter! “Calca and I share the same father – she is my half-sister. Is your father Prisma, the Prince?”

[Ehetere]

Lentara blinked, long dark lashes framing her earnest brown eyes. She bounced a little on the spot and looked rather proud that she had more spots than someone. Three was not very many, but it was more than none.

“Oooh, I like that name, Omeo. Is it exciting being away from your herd? Do you still have to go home before nightfall or can you go wherever you wish?”

Lentara looked a little closer in wonder at the pale bay’s coat in wonder. Her coat varied little between summer and winter, if anything becoming more white not the opposite way around. Her life with her little herd was a very sheltered one, and new things like this excited her no end. Not that it took much to excite the little filly.

“Poor you - is it sad not having spots? Spots seem to make my mother happy. They make me happy too. Maybe you will get more spots when you are older? Or did you lose your spots when you were a foal maybe? You might have to go looking for them - losing your spots will simply not do.”

She jumped a little in surprise when it seemed the bay with the dorsal stripe had remembered something important. She edged a little closer in anticipation; since clearly what the colt had remembered was quite important, or of some importance to her. Her eyes widened when he gasped, and she wagged her tail again, barely able to withhold all of the questions desperate to burst out of her.

“Calca is your half sister?” she puzzled, tilting her head slightly. It made no sense to her young mind that two horses who were so closely related would have such an age gap, for surely he was not as old as Calca. Still, she supposed that mares could have a number of foals over a number of years, and that would help create such age gaps. “Prisma… yes, that is what Mummy calls Daddy. I did not know he was a Prince? Is that someone important?”

[Tiggs]

So many questions! The colt scrambled to keep up. “I would rather have company, but it is fun to explore. I am not allowed back to my herd, so I suppose I can go anywhere I wish but there.” He said a little sadly. Being without constant company, be it his mother, sisters or even Alinta, was a constant strain, He missed them. Thankfully there were characters like Lentara to distract him.

“I’ve never had spots, so I don’t know if I would prefer to have them or not!” He perked up, “I like your spots though, there are not many brumbies with spots, you know.” Finding his spots? She was a strange one, but he could entertain her youth and he tossed his head roguishly. “Maybe I should borrow some of your spots to see if they look good on me.”

He shuffled his feet in the snow, feeling energetic in the face of the yearling’s exuberance. “Yes, Calca was the daughter of my father and another mare, Brael. I am too young to know Calca – she left the herd before I was born, but I know her mother. She is with the King now, after my father lost a fight to him. Tingara – that is the King’s name – is the most important stallion in the High Country! You must know who he is. Prisma is his son, which makes him a Prince. The gang-gangs say he could be the next King!” He nudged Lentara with a smile. “That makes you…” he thought for a moment, “A half-princess!”

[Ehetere]

“Not allowed back to your herd?” exclaimed Lentara, astonished. Her innocent mind came from a very sheltered world where things were right and good. Coming out into the real world was going to be quite a shock for her. “That’s terrible! Do you miss your mother? Your siblings if you had any? Your father?”

She also puzzled at his apparent lack of spots - the poor horse! A sympathetic expression crossed her face, and she could only feel sorry for horses who had not felt the joy of owning spots.

“Not many brumbies with spots!” Well now. Lentara was shocked. She thought everyone, or almost everyone had spots. She was learning a lot of new things today. She giggled a little at his comment - it was funny. “Oh, you could, but then I think I may not have any left myself - I do not have very many.”

Lentara listened with wide eyes as Omeo spoke of the politics of the High Country - something a filly like herself had not considered even in her dizziest daydreams. Fights and Kings sounded awfully exciting. She even danced a little in excitement at the realisation she was a part of it all, without even knowing.

“This is all terribly exciting” she commented, bumping her brown nose against his shoulder. “Your whole life sounds very exciting.” Her last comment almost sounded wistful - she had lived a sheltered herd life, with very little adventure. And because she had not known the feeling that the promise of new lands and unknown canyons could bring, she had not longed for it, or missed it. Omeo was beginning to make her wish that her life was as exciting as his stories.

[Tiggs]

Omeo could excuse Lentara for mistaking his life as exciting. While true that Omeo enjoyed exploring new places and meeting new brumbies, Omeo still roamed alone. Too young to have started building a herd, but old enough to want one, Omeo only had his adventures to distract him from his loneliness. This cheerful filly could not stop the sombre hint to his expression creeping in, and he shook his head.

“The tale of leaving my herd is a hard one to tell – perhaps I will tell you another day. As for the rest of my life, I’m afraid you make it sound more exciting than it really is. You are much luckier than me to have a mother and father to roam with.” The wistfulness in her tone spurred him to deter her, “Do not envy me, I can tell you stories, but the greatest adventure is with your family. I urge you to appreciate what you have.” He pushed her nose with his. “Tell me about them – I’d like to hear your stories.” He smiled, ears perking hopefully.

[Ehetere]

She looked compassionately up at the strange bay colt in the snow; her large brown eyes the size of saucers. Though her life was rather boring and sheltered, it was happy enough, with very little cause for grief or sadness. Content was a very good word that could be used to describe it. But not sad, or difficult in anyway. Her father was good and kind and kept away any marauding stallions, and her mother was caring and loving. What more could a foal ask for in life?

Lentara’s answer was clearly adventure, excitement, the unknown. That wild longing for new places had hit her hard and fast, and now there was a hunger deep inside her for it.

“Um…” she said, in one of the rare moments of her life where she was speechless, “There is little to tell - we eat grass during the day, occasionally play in a creek and run and frolic until the sun goes down. But it is nothing really exciting.”

[Tiggs]

Omeo chuckled, “Can I tell you a secret?” He hustled closer, “What you just described is exactly what I want to be doing. Not all this adventuring.” He wanted to collect a few mares, and spend the rest of his days frolicking and eating. The simple life. “You’re the lucky one, Lentara.” He pressed his dark muzzle to her black and pink mottled one to show his sincerity. The colt was becoming far too serious, and he shook himself. Lentara did not deserve his storm cloud blocking out her bright little sunshine.

Omeo snorted and gave her a nudge before wheeling away and crashing through a drift of snow with a shower of cold powder, leaving a deep gouge through it. He tossed his head and neighed, turning back to Lentara, eyes dancing with the invitation to play. It had been a while since he’d had the chance to simply play, and Lentara was perhaps the most high-spirited brumby he had ever met. Who else best to play with?