Changing Stripes [OPEN]

[Rivre]

OOC; The title 'Changing Stripes' is meant to represent change in a character, i.e. Allambee.

bic;;

With the turbulent spring, there came a feeling of doubt, unease, which stirred in the pit of a mare's stomach; a living, breathing being inside them, stirring as if they could detect the torrid gales which blew in from the south. But for Allambee, the feeling never left. Diminshed a little maybe, but the gap it left was filled only with sorrow and love for her foal. The days were clear, the sun shinning with unbreakable rays to the unfurling buds of spring, green filling the previously blank, gnarled landscape of the bush country - but her thoughts clouded with visions of her drowning stallion, the snows having given way to floods when the warmer weather came.

Of course, Barkala was too young to understand that not all mothers were as distant as his own, he merely relished in the fact that he could stick by her side all day long, drinking her milk and nibbling on the grass, without even the slightest utter from his mother. He was lucky.

Today was different though, for they traveled a well-worn track between the snowgums, forever drifting upwards, the strong pillars of white constantly thinning, to be replaced with nothing but their hides as they wove their way between the candlebark. A sweat had broken on Allambee's white paint hide, her ears pinned forwards, always intent on the bush, on sounds that freinged to be real traveling on the winds. Once or twice, when Barkala found the excitment too much, he would break into a flightly trot, and every time his mother would nip him quickly on the wither and whisper, "Quiet little one." What was there to be afraid of?

She knew all too well what it was like to be young, for she was only four years herself, but too many a time she had let slip on her instincts, and too many a time she had. had to pay the price. Their cover of leather snowgum leaves, waxy on her hide, was sparse enough now, and she drew to a soundless halt, turning to sniff anxiously at her foal, his little paint hide cloaked in sweat, beady eyes wide and ears trained on the open stretch before them.

She had come to Paddy Rush's Bogong, a place she knew that many mobs of horses would be coming - she could see a few now, grazing on the rich tussocks of heather and snowgrass, the same earth which lay beneath her hooves. It did not please her, that she had foaled only fives nights before this journey, but she knew Barkala was strong, and that his journey would have made him all the stronger, so her worry quickly faded into a tense and fleeting excitment. Was it wise of her to come when so many stallions were present and her foal so young? Perhaps not, she thought, but she was here now - downwind- but still there.

[Tiggs]

Indeed there were many stallions out grazing the Bogong that day. Each one had a couple of mares or more, and stayed more or less in the same place. Occasionally the ringing calls would accompany a minor scuffle, but tempers were cool that day as each brumby busied themselves with filling their stomachs.

One stallion however risked weaving through the herds, taking a cursory look at each mare before moving on. He seemed to be looking for something, but he blatantly was not finding it. He was a plain-faced bay with a slightly convex nose. His build was average, rangy but with a hint of deepness to his chest. His legs were long and lean, and sported three high whites and one coronet each with dark ermine spots around the hoof. On his left shoulder was a large white splodge, and on his right side a spike of white reached from his hind sock to his rump, and a sliver of white marked his girth. He hardly looked exotic, but with white on dark brown, he stood out.

He was reaching the edge of the Bogong now, where it sloped down into sparse trees. He gave a sigh and looked back at the grazing herds. The mares he was looking for were not here. He had hoped some of them might be, for this had been the grazing ground of his father. The bay paint had to assume then that all of them now grazed with the King, his father’s killer.

It was not Talgarno’s way to dwell on the unfortunate demise of his father, not that he was disaffected completely, there were just better things to think about. He stopped now to graze, standing just where the trees dispersed and unbeknown to him, not far away from a mare and foal who stood downwind.

[Rivre]

The stallion was like her foal in color -the one that caught her eye- and Barkala gave an excitable whinny at the prospect of greeting other horses. Lobes flickered back in surprise,she reached out to give him a customary nip, whites showing in her deepening gaze. He had indeed intrigued her, but being interested in someone was far from wanting to run with them! He might even be a bully, one who killed mare's foals because of their heratige. Well, he'd have to kill her first and now he knew they were there. Eyeing her colt with a half amount concern and half displeasure, Allambee walked cautiously out into the sunlight - the faint paler splashes of her own grey hide seeming to glow from beneath her skin, ears still pinned back with proud uncertainty.

Barkala shied away from his mother's searching teeth, his own lobes flicking back. However, he had the curious and forgetful nature of the young colt he was, and so the repercutions of his little outburst didn't seem to stay with him for all too long. He trotted quickly after his mother, sqealing yet again, but this time careful to skip behind rather than in biting-range.

Resisting the urge to flee, Allambee cast her foal another despairing glance, itching to nip him into a respectful silence, but this silence had gone on long enough.
"I am Allambee, and this my foal Barkala" she stated, head held high and mane whisked back from sweated grey neck by the breeze which seemed to have grown in strength then fail into nothingness.
This stallion was strong and nearing his prime, if not already there - he would be hard to outrun, if impossible with the added problem of a foal! Great, there was no escaping this time then, just what was she doing here?

[Tiggs]

The painted stallion gave a start at the young whinny sounding from the trees. He stood suddenly at attention, head high and tail flagged proudly. He was not a nervous stallion by nature, but nor was he over-confident. A foal meant mares, and mares meant stallions. Protective stallions. Talgarno had no intention to steal away any mares this day, but he was curious to see the brumbies. Perhaps they were the one he was looking for.

There was movement ahead; he heard the rustle of dry leaves and another squeal. A colt, he predicted. Two brumbies came into view, a pale mare and a painted foal. The chestnut and white colt seemed in high spirits, but the mare was decidedly nervous. No other brumbies followed her, and Talgarno could only assume her stallion was up on the Bogong with the rest. He let his strict posture loosen now that there was no threat, hoping to lessen the mare’s fear.

She spoke first, and Talgarno bobbed his head respectfully. “I am Talgarno. Have no worries, I mean neither of you harm.” The same wind that lifted the mare’s mane pushed Talgano’s black mass into a whipping frenzy around his face, obscuring his brown-black eyes for a moment. When the breeze faded, the stallion tossed his head and had a better look at the two. The mare did not match any descriptions he had of his father’s mares, and the bay paint seemed disappointed. His continued search of the High Country was becoming useless. How was he ever going to find his father’s herd?

“I am sorry, but do you know of a stallion called Nevada?” He asked Allambee, ears perked politely. He was determined, to say the least.

[Rivre]

Allambee let her tense posture relax a little at Talgarno's friendly reply, lobes quelled into a forwards stillness, thoughtful gaze alternating between her spirited foal and the queer bay paint stallion. He certainly was handsome.

At his question, she paused for a moment in surprise, before dipping her head slowly, "Many brumbies have heard of him, but never did we meet, only glanced upon each other from a distance. He perished at the hooves of Tingara, king of the cascade brumbies some seasons ago. I had heard that some of his more faithful mares chose to follow his sucssesor, but that some also wandered the bush alone after the great fight," she said solemnly, turning to nip swiftly at Barkala who had just done the same to her.
"Remember your manners" she scolded, before returning her attention to the curious Talgarno.

"That is all the information I can hope to give to you 'o flashy bay of this Bogong; why is it that you seek him?" It wasn't everyday that one stallion actively sough another - this one even more intriguing considering the vast age difference! Was it possible the two were related? She could see that he had a fine and noble head, much like that of Nevada's - but was it really possible that the legend lived on?

[Tiggs]

Ah good, he had not startled her too thoroughly. He gave a solemn nod at her tale of Nevada’s death. Information he already knew, he had seen the body himself, but it was somewhat of a consolation that the news had spread so far and wide. Talgarno had yet to confront the King, he was not out for revenge, but if only his mares knew more about his father than the general populace and gossip mongers, then it was his last resort to seek them out.

The bay paint glanced to the exuberant colt, but paid him little more attention. Colts were hardly the concern of a grown stallion. Mares however… The mare was a curious one. Now that he could see her clearly, he could see parts of her coat were solid white, surrounded by the misty dappling. She must be a prize for her stallion. If Talgarno were not on a mission, he might have stopped to scope out that stallion and if feasible, challenge him for the patched white mare.

Alas, he only had time for a brief conversation. “I seek knowledge of him; he was my father, though I never met him when he was alive.” To explain exactly why might be a little to heartfelt for a complete stranger, so the stallion arched his neck proudly and bid his last few words, “I must go on to the King’s herd, hopefully to find mares of my father’s. Tell me, which of those stallions up on the Bogong is yours so I might find you later?” Talgarno was hardly a subtle stallion, so he did not pretend to be. If he came across the mare again, he fully intended to take her with him.

[Rivre]

It was sad to think that he had lost someone, and Allambee could sympathise with him on that at least. He eyed her foal with little emotion, and ears flickered back momentarily - if he intended on claiming her, he would have to do better than that!

The pearl mare stared at the paint stallion with a look of guarded interest, he was certainly one to speak his mind. Nudging Barkala to a halt, she let gentle gaze fall to the calm one of her conversationist, intent on keeping his interest.
"I have no stallion," she said simply, lobes flickering as she waited upon his reaction. She would not be taken by an arrogance, and if his act did not clean itself up quickly, she was quite sure she would be away again within minutes. Barkala nsorted loudly at her reply, and she nipped him swiftly into silence; she would need to teach him to hold his tongue a little better.

"If you intend on stealing me away, Talgarno of this Bogong, my foal shall be at my side at least a year longer - he will slow your travel."

[Tiggs]

Talgarno’s ears flickered at that news. No stallion? It would be naïve to ask where he might be. The High Country was not a forgiving place to eek a living. She could have been separated from him by death, a challenging stallion uninterested in her foal, or by the intervention of men. Neither reason was particularly nice conversation for a first meeting,

Instead he said, “You are right; your son would be a burden to me now. I must travel, and it could be a long way. This is a journey I must make alone.” The bay tossed his head, gesturing up the slope. “Find yourself a stallion to watch you this winter. I am not the sort of stallion to steal, and it seems to me that simply walking away with you would be too easy.”

He lifted his head, eyeing her seriously with one dark eye. “No, you deserve to be won in a fair fight.” The stallion pawed the ground, anxious to be on his way but keen to explain his noble intentions. “I do not intend on stealing you, fair one. I would intend to win you, however, if I did not have this personal quest to complete first. So join a stallion, live healthily and in company until I find you again. And then if you wish it, then I would win you away from him. I only wish you happiness in life, Allambee.”