Keep it Simple [Nandaie Herd]

[Tiggs]

Spring. Finally. Winter had been difficult, but once again the roan stallion and his herd had made it through without too much trouble. He grazed them now on the valley slopes above the Boggy, grazing on the grass that had been uncovered by the melting snow. The Boggy below them was saturated with water, and Nandalie repeatedly warned his young foals not to go too close. Their spindly legs would not hold them well in the bog but so long as they stayed on the slope, they would be safe.

One mare in particular though, he sought out. The slope was quite open, and her coat was a beacon to other stallions. “Aquila.” He nickered, approaching at a nonchalant walk. “Will you come with me for a moment?” He gestured for her to follow, and he set off down the slope. “While the winter covered the ground in snow, your colour was not such a problem, but now the snow is melting, I must ask a favour of you, and it is unfair.” He warned her, “You can refuse, Aquila, remember this.”

He gave her time to absorb the fact, but he was not sure Aquila knew how to disappoint. “Parts of the Bog have defrosted, and though it is cold, I would ask you to wallow in it a little. The mud should hide your coat, and you will blend much better with the ground.” Other stallions would not instantly be attracted by her colour, either. Now that the breeding season was here, tempers were running high and Nandalie could not afford to fight more stallions than he had to. His impressive mob of mares brought enough attention from appreciative eyes without a creamy in the mix.

He offered his muzzle in apology. “I am sorry I even have to ask you to do this, I will understand if you would not want to.”

[aquiladorado]

Through the changing season, AquilaDorado had followed Nandalie and his herd as they fought to survive the winter. But at last the cold weather had ceased and signs of spring were everywhere. The smoky cream mare had not spent the majority of that time socializing with the other Brumbies, but absorbing the many factors of a normal life that she was so foreign to. It was fascinating to her. The creamy had no idea whether this was a permanent or temporary placement, and dared not bring up the topic in fear of seeming rude, but she hoped every day for the eagle’s return. It wasn’t that she was not grateful for the company the herd of the roan had given her, but Guyra was as close to family as she had. She had seen nothing of the eagle though, and with the coming of spring the mare had expected to.

The most recent grazing spot of the herd was on the luscious incline of what seemed to be the border of a swamp. AquilaDorado let her thoughts consume her as she stood on the slope and occasionally nibbled at the new grass, and she had retreated deep into her own head when the large roan approached her. Nandalie’s voice caused her to shoot her head up frantically, snorting as his appearance drew her out of her mind and back to where she stood off to the side of the herd. As she settled in his presence, the smoky cream mare answered the stallion’s question with a nod of her head and tagged after him while he led her closer to the deep muck of the bog.

The roan’s words were hard to understand at first, and she pondered what he was asking of her before he continued. ”Parts of the Bog have defrosted, and though it is cold, I would ask you to wallow in it a little. The mud should hide your coat, and you will blend much better with the ground.” AquilaDorado was more shocked by what he asked of her than offended, and she tilted her head to the side while she stared at the muddy ground. No one had ever asked her to do such a thing before – Guyra most certainly would never have considered telling the mare to dirty herself on purpose! The more she stared at the mud, though, the more appealing the idea sounded to her. It would definitely allow her to blend in better with Nandalie’s herd, and extra attention only terrified the mare anyways. Besides, she would never refuse anything that could only help the kind stallion keep his herd safe. Her coat had only ever been a danger, and the creamy did not know why Guyra had never thought of disguising her before.

”Do not apologize, Nandalie. After everything you have done for me I would never turn an offer down.”[/b] AquilaDorado took a couple steps closer to the swamp and looked back at the large stallion, a grin playing at the edges of her mouth. ”Besides, what harm does a little mud do?”[/b] The smoky cream trotted to the edge of the bog, careful to watch her footing and not slip. She found a deep patch of melted snow and dirt not too far down the swamp where the ground started to level out, and eased her body down and rolled. The cool substance was soothing and she made sure to cover as much of her light coat as she could, frequently standing up and getting back down again to coat the opposite side. The mare, well, 'wallowed' for as long as she could before slowly raising her now-dark body from the sludge one last time with a deep sigh. She emerged from the mud looking like an odd Grulla, and walked a slight ways up the slope to start grazing again. AquilaDorado was pleased with herself. The drying mud ticked her skin and she flicked her tail around in her contentment after looking briefly to Nandalie and to his herd.

[freesia]

Tagera loved spring. The way excitement filled the air when the weather changed from a blustery, cold blizzard to a sweet, balmy bright blue sky where the clouds were wispy like cotton was enough to drive any three year old wild. The buckskin whiffed the air and flicked her dark-tipped ears back to the sound of a bird’s flapping wings in the distance, flaring her nostrils and inhaling slowly. Tag’s buckskin fur had just started to shed; it was thick and downy in most places, but her tan shoulders (where the fur had already fallen away) were sleek and glossy and showed off her slender muscles. The filly, after a few moments of silence, struck her hoof against the ground and let out a jaded snort.

She wanted something to do, someone to fool around with. It was spring, after all, and spring was (in Tag’s opinion) the best time of year. She was vaguely aware the dangers of stallions and men, but even if she did know, what did she care? Danger made things even more thrilling. Tag threw back her neck in lighthearted freedom, sending her black mane to the wind as she let out a little rumble and danced forward, her mocha eyes luminous in the faint sunshine of early spring. In some places, she noted, the snow had melted and left patches of dry brown grass that could not be very tasty. But it would, when spring went on.

Suddenly, a sound besides the singing of birds filled through her ears; the sound of a stallion’s voice. Tag stopped, and then she saw him and a cream mare, his herd a little bit off. Ah! Tag knew she had smelt something. She lowered her head and pushed her ears forward inquisitively, watching the two wander near the bog. Tag could make out the stallion’s words, and well, she could barely believe what she was hearing; he was asking the mare to wallow in the bog! Tag snickered a little bit, imagining the pretty mare’s light coat filthy. The mare looked prissy, but apparently she wasn’t. She went right ahead and rolled. Tag was rather impressed; she had thought that only young fillies and colts did that.

Intrigued, Tag danced toward the two and let out a nicker, eyes sparkling mischievously and tail tossing as she stopped in front of them, hooves squishing into the muddy ground. “Why did you get so filthy, miss? Your coat was so pretty before.” Her voice was rather swaggering, as was her idle stance. She raised her head and turned her eyes to the stallion. “I’m Tagera, but my friends call me Tag. Who are you two?” Her eyes danced back and forth, bouncing between the two forms.

[Tiggs]

Nandalie felt a flood of relief at the cream’s acceptance. She had really been battling her shyness, and under the nervous exterior, she really was a kind-hearted mare. If it weren’t for her colour, Nandalie would felt completely comfortable with her being in his herd. He watched as she ventured into the bog, and proceeded to wade and roll until her coat was almost solidly brown except for a few patches between her legs and about her head. The effect was quite comical, and the good-hearted stallion could not repress a chuckle.

It was then that movement distracted him, and he attentively turned to investigate. The tan-and-black mare he was presented with was not a perceived threat, and the chestnut roan lowered his guard. He greeted her with a throaty nicker, and glanced to see if Aquila was reacting nervously to the new face. Though the first question was directed to the mud-smothered mare, Nandalie intercepted. “I am Nandalie, and Aquila was humouring my paranoia.” He huffed – trying to explain the strangeness of his request made it seem all the more ridiculous. Keeping Aquila safe though had been his promise to the eagle Guyra, and he intended to keep her hidden in any way possible.

The stallion flicked an inquisitive ear to the buckskin mare and though her first impression was somewhat brash, it was spring and like any red-blooded stallion, he could not help a little charm. “Well Tag, what brings you to the Boggy?” He glanced up to his herd and satisfied with their presence, he flicked his tail and turned his gaze back to the buckskin mare. She was not a bad looking mare. Perhaps a little scruffy, but what brumby wasn’t? His own coat was patchy with long winter coat red hairs, and short summer coat roaned hairs. The effect was like that of a diluted paint horse. He needed a good roll himself, and made a mental note to move the herd later to drier ground where they might find scratchier snowgrass to roll on.

[Corowa]

Corowa grazed alongside her leggy bay yearling. The mare was a little distance from the others, sheltering in a narrow belt of timber, hidden by the silver-grey snowgums. Even though there had been no sightings of stockmen, Corowa was particularly nervous, and even the sound of the wind as it moved through the topmost snowgums, was enough to make her tremble.

The mare and yearling picked their way soundlessly through the thin scrub. The snowgrass sloped down to a wide plain, and it was there, Corowa pulled up on her haunches. Just then, the brolga gave its loud trumpeting call, and with ears pricked, the mare watched as it circled once over the open plain.

It seemed there was some sound of warning in its far-flung call, and from the other side of the plain, something moved through the bigger, wide-spaced gums. At once, the mare stood with head upflung, still and listening. Then, just as suddenly, a young dun stepped from the cover of the snowgums and started to move towards the small mob of brumbies.

She could feel Warriwillah’s breath hot on her flanks, and the yearling stirred restlessly, until no longer able to contain her excitement, she gave a sobbing neigh and plunged down the rough snowgrass slope. It took only a moment for Corowa to gather herself and spring away after the excitable filly. The mare was swift and furious as the whirlwind itself, and she didn’t slacken in her headlong pace, trusting in her own nimbleness and cunning as she raced over the springy snowgrass.

Finally, the bay’s ears twitched and she slowed. In an instant Corowa was there, and she stopped in her tracks, reached over to give the yearling the fiercest of nips. “Foolish one!” the mare said, though not unkindly. “You should know enough to move without sound or track, and not to listen to the thrumming of your blood and the playful mocking of the wind.”

OOC: Ok, Corowa and Warriwillah are right up near the others. They are just squabbling, so they haven't noticed haha.

[Ehetere]

Young animals and new growth abounded in the upthrust of life brought by spring, and Binda knew it would be her turn some time too. She had never been a lithe mare in any sense of the word: she was quite round in fact, but now her belly was swollen far beyond its natural size with her unborn foal.

She sighed happing, relaxing in the shade of a tree near the roan stallion Nandalie’s herd. All of the mares here were nice enough, and she was quite enjoying the less stressful life of living in a herd, but she did sometimes long to wander again.

Still, there would be no need for wandering or boredom once her foal was born. Binda did not know whether she wanted a son or a daughter - she would love both equally she decided. Her longing for a child of her own was only intensified by the other mare’s own young charges, cavorting around and making mischief. Soon it would be her turn. Soon.

Further down the slope from where she stood, the creamy mare, Aquila, was talking quietly with Nandalie. Binda knew that such a mare was a prize indeed - a testament to the roan stallion’s prowess. She couldn’t help but be a little jealous that the creamy got a lot of the stallion’s attention, but that was to be expected and she was not going to rock the boat. That was the way of herd life - no mare could have a stallion all to them selves unless they were exceptionally beautiful.

She blinked several times as she saw the mare go and muddy her lovely coat in the bog - why would she do such a thing? Another movement caught her eye - a tall buckskin mare had also entered the scene. Binda was beginning to wonder whether a stallion wooing a mare was actually a sincere practice or simply lies so that he could father her foals.

The grey mare Corowa went chasing after her wayward bay daughter, distracting Binda’s thoughts. Binda liked the old grey mare - she was wise, and didn’t have boulders for brains like some horses she did. Making her way slowly and carefully down the slope, her robust belly swinging from side to side, she came to a halt close enough so that she could examine the bay filly closer.

[aquiladorado]

The disguised mare had not thought much of the approaching hoof beats - trying to overcome her fears, she talked herself into the comforting thought that it was only one of Nandalie’s mares and continued to mind her own business. But when the unfamiliar nicker met her ears, she finally noticed the buckskin mare who was drawing ever closer to her. AquilaDorado froze briefly, and when the voice spoke directly to her, she proceeded to dart behind the large roan stallion in hopes that she could hide herself behind his powerful hindquarters. She did not answer the buckskin. Instead she stared fearfully into Nandalie’s eyes, nostrils quivering and ears on high alert.

The mare wasn’t exactly terrifying, but AquilaDorado was feeling more guilt than fear. This Brumby had seen that she was a creamy – she had seen truth behind the disguise of mud, and the smoky cream mare did not know what kind of danger that could present the roan stallion and his herd. She had not intended to be any trouble, but if word got out about a creamy in Nandalie’s herd then there was sure to be problems. And if suspicious eyes were looking and had that knowledge, she was sure to be found out. AquilaDorado did not know how the stallion would react to the buckskin mare and the secret she had now learned unintentionally, and she felt nauseous. Relief flooded over her when she was spared having to answer the mare’s question.

While Nandalie struck up a conversation with the new buckskin, AquilaDorado continued to try to remain invisible behind his rump. She pondered frantically how she could sneak away from the mare, possibly envelop herself among the rest of the herd, when a shrill cry caused her head and neck to turn sharply and watch a small bay filly come tearing down the slope. Following her was the grey mare AquilaDorado had seen many times in the herd. The mud-covered mare scanned the other Brumbies for the chestnut Yaruka, and noticed an oddly colored black making her way over to the pair that had just made a lively entrance. AquilaDorado could not recall the name of either of the mares. Taking one quick glance at Nandalie, she returned her attention to the rest of the Brumbies and kept only a twitchy ear focused on his conversation.

[freesia]

Tagera snickered, flinging her black tail up against her scruffy tan hips in an ever-so swaggering manner, her nostrils flared. She might have been a mischievous three year old, naive to the dangers of men, but in the brumby-world, Tag knew a little bit. “I see. She’s a creamy.” Tag said abruptly, dumping her so-innocent question from earlier as she met Nandalie’s eyes. Stallions wanted creamies; Tag was well-aware of that, at least. She tipped her head to the side a little, noticing how this Aquila was attempting to hide behind the roan’s hindquarters. Well! Tag wouldn’t let her get away that easily. She was much too stubborn. “Aquila; is that your name? It’s very pretty.” Tag put on an innocent face and let out a sweet nicker, ears cocked and big, doe-like eyes masking her roguish manner. She then looked back at Nandalie sweetly as he addressed her. “She’s shy?” Tag had a lot of nerve to be teasing. She shouldn’t have been (her mother would certainly disapprove) but annoying others is what she did best. Really, she wouldn’t tell anyone about the creamy mare, but if she assured this, well, where would the fun go? Down the drain, and Tag didn’t want that. Then the roan asked her what she had come to the Boggy for, anyway. Truly, there was no reason, but she needed to come up with a response. Tag gave a dismissive flick of her tail and lazily gazed up at him. “O, I just figured it was a nice day, so I took a stroll.” She smiled at him. “Why are you here with your herd?” She gazed at him for a few moments, and then Aquila, because Aquila was the fun in this, after all.

[Tiggs]

Warriwillah was not the only yearling energized by the playful wind. Sturdy young Thackory was distracted from the important task of eating to throw his head up and whinny in response to his excited half-sister who came skidding down the slope. Large ears swivelled on their axis, and the brown and roaned colt’s kind eyes were bright with enthusiasm. Snorting, the broad colt came loping over to his bay sister and her grey mother.

He was a polite and usually calm colt but he could not resist the occasional play. He bobbed his head to the wise grey Corowa and the rotund dark brown Binda before flicking his short tail and nudging Warriwillah with a broad nose to her shoulder. He nickered, his adolescent voice showing signs of maturing to a deep resonance. He tilted his head to look hopefully at Corowa. Could he and Warriwillah play?


Meanwhile, the father and mate of the brumbies up the hill was conversing with the black and tan filly. The muddy Aquila was attempting to his behind him, and he took a brief moment from the conversation to crane his neck around and brush Aquila’s cheek with his chestnut muzzle. He did not like to be distracted from his mares when they were distressed, but it was rude to leave Tag when she was being so conversational.

Tag had obviously seen Aquila before she rolled, and Nandalie stiffened a little. Hopefully Tag would be the last brumby to learn that secret. It was imperative that Aquila stayed anonymous, for the sake of both their futures. He did not confirm Tag’s statement, and instead responded to her questions. “Aquila is shy, yes.” He was not apologetic. Aquila had barely began to trust him, she could not expect her to reach out to others just yet. “We are here to graze,” he continued, “The grass here is well watered and makes for good eating.” He added. There was also the additional reason for being here, which was to disguise Aquila but he could justify leaving that out of the conversation.

A commotion of pounding hooves and exuberant whinnied called his attention, and he looked up the slope to see his mares and foals congregating. He smiled fondly, and noticed that Aquila was watching them too. He turned to her, nosing her mud-streaked cheek once again. “Why don’t you join them, Aquila? They would welcome your company.” He murmered. If her shyness was to be overcome, she would have to start with little steps. Nandalie knew for a fact that every one of his mares would be eager to help her break out of her fragile shell.

[Corowa]

There was the sound of movement down the steep line of slope, and Corowa stood, tense and listening. Her nostrils quivered, and she stood with head held high. Warriwillah’s ears flickered nervously back and forth, her fine head and neck flecked with foam. The two brumbies couldn’t see through the thick cover of snowgum leaves, and so they waited, watching and listening.

Corowa watched the line of bush intently, and she stood completely still, as a brown brumby stepped from the shelter of the snowgums. The breath sighed out of her, as she recognised the mare as one of her own mob. Corowa stretched out her nose to Binda, and greeted her then, with a soft snort. The black mare was heavily in foal, and Corowa knew surely it must be near her time.

“For a moment I thought you might have been that dun mare’s stallion,” the mare said softly, though she could feel herself still filled with that terrible sense of dread. “I am glad it is only you though, for even if it is the way of the bush for stallions to fight, I cannot stand the sight or sound of it.”

Reassured, Corowa reached over and nibbled on the mare’s shoulder. She let her nose move down towards the roundness of her belly, and then she stopped. “Have you thought of a name for your young one?” she asked curiously, “For your time must be near now. If it is not born soon, I think you will have a foal as big as Thackory!”

Warriwillah nosed at the snowgrass, but she threw up her head when a sudden neigh rang out over the wide, grassy flat. Corowa could feel the filly start to tremble with excitement, and Warriwillah might have called in answer, had not the mare turned and nipped her sharply. “Hush,” she said fearfully. “There are many stallions who would hear that call, and you are no longer a foal, but one to be sought and captured.”

Corowa looked over Binda’s wither, and watched Thackory as he bounded down the slope towards them. The colt propped to a standstill, and the mare could see Nandalie there, in that proud head, and broad chest. He was much bigger than any of the other yearlings, but his heaviness made him slow, and the mare knew he would never be one to race the winds.

Corowa regarded the colt with pricked ears, and she reached forwards and gave him an affectionate bump with her nose. Warriwillah looked longingly towards that wide stretch of snowgrass, and the mare remembered the joy of living, to challenge even the stockmen with one’s swiftness and cunning. “I could no more hold you than I could the wind itself,” the mare said. “Go then with him, but remember it is not only the stockmen you may need to hide from now.”

Warriwillah bounded away at a sudden gallop, and she mocked the colt with a throbbing neigh. The bay filly hurtled over the snowgrass, barely checked in her headlong pace as she leapt some shallow bush soak. Warriwillah was inheritor of all the swiftness of the whirlwind, and as Corowa watched the yearling, she could feel a restless longing stir deep within herself.