Post by Ehetere on Jan 26, 2010 6:52:18 GMT
Yeah, so I was bored and decided to write a bit of a brumby saga of my own. Comments are welcome, and I hope you guys like it.
The summer was hot, and all around them the bush was still. The air seemed to press in on the two bay mares, whose coats were darkened with sweat. It had been a hard and perilous climb through the dark night with only starlight to show the path before them, but here they were in their own valley at the bottom of a very steep slope that climbed high above them.
The darker of the two: whose coat also held more red, nudged her friend and looked skywards. Both mares managed to gaze at the shooting star for a few moments before it faded into the inky blackness of the night sky.
“That star is a good omen,” said the blood bay, “Our foals will be born strong.”
The lighter bay nodded her head in agreement, for there was wisdom in her companion’s words. They were both full sisters, two years apart in age, both having learnt bush wisdom from their bay mother. It was tradition in their family for the bays to be taught the ways of the bush - for mares that could blend in with the trees and shrub around them would be able to become very wise indeed and pass this on to their own offspring.
Both mares had foaled a number of times before, and neither was young in their years. Perhaps these would be their last foals before they gave their lives to exploring the High Country forever.
The lighter bay lovingly touched her sister’s cheek with her own.
“I must go Jirrah, for it is time,” she murmured, “We shall return here in three days when our foals are good and strong?”
“We shall return, Sister,” replied the blood bay, touching noses with her sister and companion. “Be sure you come back to me Innaloo.”
With a playful nip and a parting glance at her beloved sister, the bay mare Innaloo was gone, blending in with the bush that was her one and only home.
The trunks of Ash trees creaked around her as the temperature seemed to increase further, and the tangy scent of sap filled the air when branches and leaves slapped against her straining flanks. Going through the scrub and saltbush like this was hard on a mare whose foal was about to be born. As if to make itself more known, the bulge in her stomach swayed from side to side with her laborious steps, keeping her pace slow and lumbering. She was not an unfit mare; both she and her sister were built for a life in the bush with strong, long legs and a sturdy carriage.
Innaloo paused, taking several deep breaths. It would not do to exhaust herself with a foal due soon, but she felt that she must reach her customary birthing place soon… She shook her mane to free it from the sticky lather on her neck, her black forelock falling away from her face to reveal a large bright star on her forehead. Though she could not see it herself she knew that white markings could show up quite clearly despite the darkness, so she hurried on once more not wishing for unwanted company.
In the early hours before dawn could bathe the landscape in all blinding light, Innaloo’s foal was born. The scurrying of bush creatures had ceased and the call of night birds became silent, giving the setting an eerie, mysterious feel. Innaloo gazed down at the small brown shape - a bay filly so like herself. She licked her daughter clean, before heaving her tired body to its feet and urging her youngest and likely last daughter to do the same.
The filly looked around inquisitively, and then up at the looming shape above her that was her mother. The sounds of creatures creeping through the bush had resumed, and the close by howl of a dingo caused Innaloo to whip her head around in alarm. The bay filly caught wind of her anxiety, and whickered loudly.
“Hush dear one,” said Innaloo not unkindly, moving to stand over her small foal. “We do not want others to hear our presence.”
She nudged the filly’s rump, making her squeal indignantly, but it did have the desired effect of the foal disentangling its legs and clambering unsteadily to its feet. Innaloo guided the little bay under her stomach to her teats, and almost immediately the filly began to suckle on her essential, life and strength giving milk.
Her foal seemed to drink for a long time, and Innaloo was unsure whether this was a good or bad sign - for none of her other foals had drunk so much - but finally it seemed the little bay had had her fill, and she stepped away with a small burp. Innaloo smiled - she did love foals. Leading the way over to a nearby rock overhang, she stopped to rest which was all the encouragement the foal needed to drop to the ground in an exhausted heap and fall into a deep sleep.
The next day was another hot one where there was no wind to stir the branches of overhanging snowgums or cool the steamy forest. Innaloo wandered out of the protective shade of her cave and into the hot sunshine. She and Jirrah always seemed to have their foals late, and now she was paying the price.
She dropped her nose to the cooling waters of the small creek and drank like she had not seen water in weeks. The filly foal meanwhile frolicked in the background with a grace she had not seen on many a foal. Most were ungainly at best and thoroughly uncoordinated at worst, but this filly could move her long spindly legs so swiftly without falling…
Presently the filly stopped playing and came over to instantly demand more milk. Innaloo laughed quietly and settled down to graze while her new daughter gorged herself. All this milk must have been giving the filly her great energy and life to dance with such grace.
The next two days were spent similarly, with Innaloo drinking a lot and eating for two while the filly’s strength grew along with her spirit. And by the possum light every evening the bay filly would dance some more with her wondrous legs while Innaloo could only watch on with amazement at the thought she could produce such a filly so full of energy and life.
On the morning of the fourth day, the filly was nudged awake from her sleep during the pale grey predawn light, when the weather was still warm, but there was a pleasant chill in the air that would make travelling more bearable. Setting out at an amble, Innaloo did not hurry her small but playful daughter, as she would need to save all her voluminous energy for the trek ahead back to the grassy clearing where Jirrah would be heading now also with her newborn foal.
She stopped often to give her filly rest, but despite being sure her foal would make it quite a ways before a sleep would be needed, Innaloo was wrong. The little bay was so excitable and curious, halting their progress at ever new creature and oddly formed bush that they passed. And she would not hurry no matter Innaloo’s encouragement, instead preferring to dance and frolic and play.
Eventually the midday heat became too hot for any sensible creature to travel any distance in, and Innaloo stopped to doze under the shade of a tall pine tree, with the bay filly sleeping soundly at her feet.
The sun began to sink in the sky again, and Innaloo urged the filly up, her pace more insistent now. The little bay filly found that she could not keep up with her mother if she played and explored, and that her mother would no longer wait for her games. So she calmed a little, more desperate to stay with her dam than enjoy the landscape.
Innaloo let a deep whicker out into the afternoon’s waning light, her call echoing strangely in the deepness of the valley with the steep but climbable walls. An answer was heard up ahead, and the bay filly pricked up her ears curiously. A few seconds after the original reply, a second came which was much higher pitched and this call the filly felt the need to throw her own wild, excited answer to.
She galloped forward through the remaining scrub; ducking, dodging and weaving like no foal her mother had ever seen before. Innaloo followed her excitable foal at a more sedate pace, knowing that it was not danger but her own sister and her young foal that lay up ahead.
The filly burst into the clearing with a rustle of branches and snapping twigs. She pulled her lithe frame up in an abrupt stop, gouging tiny hoof tracks in the soft earth.
Here stood two other brumbies, both of them the same colour as her mother only with more red hues like the brilliant colours at sunset. The moment of uncertainty gone, the filly dove for cover behind her mother’s protective flank and she too emerged from the bushes. Innaloo smiled lovingly at her foal - who was scared of something for the first time in her life.
Jirrah stepped forward and she and Innaloo greeted one another playfully. Jirrah’s big bay colt also stood slightly behind his mother and both foals peered out from beneath their mothers to gaze warily at one another.
“Time to stop being shy little fellow,” said Jirrah abruptly, shoving the big blood bay - who was even redder than herself - out into the open in the direction of Innaloo’s filly. The filly squealed in surprise, but did not back down, boldly trotting over to the colt who stood eyeing her warily. Much to both mothers astonishment, the little filly, who was much lither and smaller than the more heavily built colt, bonked him on the shoulder with her head before pushing off him with her tiny hooves - a feat Innaloo was amazed she could complete with such long legs - and cantered away whinnying and laughing as though she had just heard the most amusing joke.
The colt, unsurprisingly, snorted in indignation and surprise; staring after his half sister completely gob smacked.
“Well sister, what have you produced?” remarked Jirrah approvingly as the little filly danced and careered about - running circles around the heavy bay colt. “She’s quite a bit lighter than you - a wild bay even.”
“That is an excellent question,” replied Innaloo, also watching her strangely beautiful filly’s every movement. She could almost cast a spell of amazement over those who watched her. “Only time will tell, I think.”
“Agreed,” nodded the blood may mare, tilting her head ever so slightly. The filly was such a spirited thing! “What have you named her?”
“I have not given her a name yet - I am undecided,” replied Innaloo, “Have you named your colt? He will be a handsome fellow.”
“As a matter of fact I have - I named him Binga for the abundant saltbush,” replied Jirrah, and pride was evident in her voice. It was well deserved - he was a fine colt. Innaloo watched her own filly; she and her half brother were so alike - and she supposed they might bond as young animals often did, forging a friendship that would last their childhoods, perhaps even their lives.
“That is a good name for him; my filly will be his sister in full then - Dandiri, for that abundance of saltbush.”
Both mares nodded wisely over their two bay foals, the rich blood bay colt and the lively wild bay filly. The colt would have great strength and courage, and the filly was full of spirit and life. One thing that both mares knew was that their lives were far from over with two such foals in their care.
