Of Black and White and Gold

[Ehetere]

The summer was a hot one, and the atmosphere sleepy. The sun’s rays beat down continuously, warming the landscape and all its creatures. Spring had past, and the more laid back season of summer had arrived in the mountains.

Of course, men were a constant shadow to a time otherwise bright and sunny, but here in the area of the Tin Mines, the black stallion Burrello was relaxed as he proudly looked over his mares from his perch on the slope above the luscious meadow. The grazing was good here, and all was well. What more could the escaped stallion wish for.

All of his herd had survived the harsh winter, much to his relief, and had gained a new edition in the way of the brown and cream mare Goondooloo. There had been no foals this spring, which Burrello was a little saddened by since the small, queer little things were entertaining to watch as they raced around exploring the world on their ungainly legs.

Still, he was a very content stallion as he entered is sixth year of life. He had not yet had to face another stallion in a battle, and he was not sure whether he should be thankful for this. His family was still his, but he did want to be able to prove his worth as a stallion.

Returning his attention to his ever growing herd beneath him, he though about how lovely they all looked spread out with their coats glowing in the light of the morning sun. All black and white and gold. He was very blessed to have them indeed.

[Rivre]

Arrellah grazed contentedly beside the glossy black stallion - aware of the warmth and sun as it hit her summer-thin hide, a bright chestnut flame in contrast to the ever-green stems of snowgrass. The odd wild-flower scattered the open expanse, white and lonely on the ridges, but it was all that remained of the spring - now the oppressive heat of the summer season had arrived, striving to drive all memories of the colorful foliage to the back of the brumbies thoughts -for this was the season of relaxing among horses of their kind. There did not seem to be many men where they stayed now, shadowed by the gnarled branches of a tree here and there, but otherwise unbothered.

The winter had been rough, as Burrello had suggested, but as always, she had muddled through - happy go lucky. Now that the spring had passed as well - and it had been good to them- Arrellah felt an odd sense of joy at the thought of remaining unmolested by man and his stock-horse. Perhaps they had finally given up? Ever since her escape, they had searched tirelessly for the not-too-easily-hidden bleach chestnut mare who had feinted their company, surprisingly to no avail.

Blowing softly through her nostrils, she turned warm black and brown gaze towards her stallion, the look on his face making her snort in amusement.
"Do you never tire of worrying? You are the night and shadow which tamed the flame and will of man - what is there to scare you? I am named for the dance and remind myself of it often, in leading others astray - but you, what were you named for Burrello, and how to you keep your peace at being labeled so?" Maybe she mocked to often, or too little, but she knew that this brumby in particular would understand her need to be free of speech; her tones of pure happiness adding light and depth to her wise words.

[Corowa]

Warridanga grazed alongside Coorabin in a sheltering fringe of ribbon gums. Both mare and colt had only just returned to the wide, grassy flat, and they were still sweating and blowing from the long, hard run. Warridanga had found herself restless with longing for the rough, broken country of the north, had gone as far as the lightly timbered ridges of Stockwhip Hill. Then something had pulled at her, and so she had returned.

The brumbies had turned south at the first sign of stockmen. The high country rang with the crack of the stockwhip, the first of the big brumby drives up by Paddy Rush’s Bogong. Here, in the shelter of the ribbon gums, Warridanga could feel that terrible sense of dread, gradually fade a little. With her glistening golden coat, she was as much a prize for the stockmen as any of the silver brumbies.

The mare could feel the prickling of her hide, for every hair stood on end at the feeling of being watched. Warridanga threw up her head, fascinated by the sight of the stallion up there on the high slope. Coorabin stood listening and watching, but when he would have followed, the mare told him to stay, silent and still, with a soft snort.

She stepped proudly from the shelter of the gums then, and the sunlight seemed to concentrate on the splendid golden mare. The mare raced swiftly over the snowgrass, and something told her she had never felt so strong and sure, as in this one moment. Warridanga bounded from one tussock of snowgrass to the other, until finally she had reached the top of that high slope and it was there she pulled up.

There was that one mare, almost always near him. Warridanga flattened her ears and reached over to give the mare a particularly unpleasant nip, jealous that Burrello should always be with her. Warridanga would see them standing shoulder to flank, and feel such a stirring of feelings, remember how once she had been the one, Burrello had sought.

“I’m sure he has no longing to be bothered with such nonsense on such a fine morning,” Warridanga told the mare. “You might find him vanished into the blackness of the night, swift as the winds for which he was named, and you left behind with nothing but the sound of the wind through the snowgums, nothing more than a half-memory of something you once possessed.”

[yaruka]

Goondooloo gazed peacefully under the gaze of the black stallion, her sides already slightly swollen with his foal, her first,unusual for her age. Though she had never been one for herd life she liked Burrello and appreciated the security, and even the company of the herd. Though she was still prone to wandering at times she now belonged with them.
-----
At the very edge of the clearing where the herd grazed a buckskin mare moved cautiously, thick forelock partially masking her dark eyes as she watched the horses anxiously. Would they notice her here, half concleaed in the shadows? She was terribly frightened to be among other creatures again but some deep rooted instinct had driven her to find company, or at least safety in numbers, now that men were back in the High Country.

OOC: pathetic, I know. but I have to go now and so wanted to post!

[Ehetere]

Burrello listened to the chestnut mare’s words in silence, allowing her to finish. In truth, he wondered how different mares were from stallions. He was forever worrying after their safety, perhaps more than a stallion with a less conspicuous herd might have done. For though he owned none of these fabled Silver Brumbies or Moonfillies, his herd were a far greater prize to those possessing a rope and spurs. It was no secret that his herd were not of wild stock, with their out of place forms attracting far less attention from the creatures of the High Country than they did man. If he was to be spotted, it could be the end of them all.

“It is my job to worry after you,” he replied simply, turning his gaze to the fiery colored mare, “It is not fear for myself, but for my family which has me up late at night. I –“

It was then that Warridanga made an entrance, her flashy golden coat gleaming in the sunshine with a brilliance Burrello would have compared with the sun. If Arrellah was fire, then Warridanga was the sun and Goondooloo was dusk. He momentarily thanked his luck for possessing such a herd.

Warridanga looked none too pleased on this day, and her rebuke left no one wondering of her temper. Burrello had to admit that the golden mare had been neglected lately, which was alarming as she was so lovely. And intelligent too, he was rather amused by her sharp tongue.

He nipped her on the shoulder so Arrellah would not be so offended, but it was playful and teasing. There was no punishment there. Nickering gently, he nuzzled the golden mare affectionately.

“Calm yourself dear one, lest the whole High Country feel your anger,” he murmured, leading off down the slope for both mares to follow. It was rather hard to keep all of his mares happy – favoritism was a real problem, so he could not simply leave the chestnut mare standing on her own when he went off a little distance with the golden mare to discuss further with her. How he did love her mind games. Perhaps his intentions were clear, as he walked stride for stride with her down the slope, an amused smirk still remaining on his features.

[Rivre]

Arrellah usually liked the shinning mare who came prancing towards herself and their stallion with all the glory of the sun, but as she lent her teeth to hide, she rolled the whites of her eyes, ears pinned back, and snorting in disgrace. How dare she! She would have given a returning nip, but Burrello seemed to find something amusing in the way she attacked his other mares, and nipped at her fondly.

"If he was to vanish into the night, rude mare, I would lick like a flame across the bush and destory all cover that he should have and with it your pride." Snorting impatiently and without waiting for a reply, Arrellah swung her rump towards the wordy mare and followed the black back down the small incline, tail flicking irritably, but otherwise happy to go along with the flow.

How quaint that there should be jealousy amoung such a plain herd, but none-the-less, all of their company seemed to have some pent-up form of energy today, all except for Goodooloo that is, who was grazing somewhat peacefully. Breaking into a flighty canter, she pranced towards the open grass glade, enjoying the warmth of the morning, neck arched and chestnut mane falling gracfully to crest her shinning rise. At least if anyone saw her now, they would perhaps think her a trick of the light and turn away, maybe even a fire dancing on the open snowgrass ridge?

[Corowa]

Warridanga squealed and struck out lightly at the black stallion, giving him a sharp nip of her own. Though she flattened her ears at him, the mare clung close to Burrello when he started off down the rough snowgrass spur, towards the other mares. Some part of her knew that she could never truly belong to another. She had only ever wanted to run with Burrello, and his gentleness told Warridanga the stallion had not forgotten her.

Just then Arrellah sprang away down the slope. Warridanga leapt sharply sideways and then put her head down and gave a lively buck. The mare found herself trembling in every limb, the blood singing in her veins, so filled with restlessness she could hardly stand still.

At that same instant, Warridanga stopped in her tracks, and gave a sudden, throbbing neigh. Her ears pricked forwards and then there came Coorabin’s ringing challenge. The mare stood for a moment, and then she called once more, and her call contained all the joy of a young mare, longing for excitement.

The chestnut colt burst suddenly out from beneath the sheltering gums. He raced over the open flat, his chestnut colt burning in the sunlight. Warridanga could no longer contain her excitement, and she plunged blindly down the wide slope of snowgrass, stretching her legs to their fullest so she seemed barely to touch the ground.

She called to Burrello, invited him to join in this wild, rough gallop. The slope became rougher, snowgrass dropping away to a shaly outcrop. The mare barely checked in her headlong pace as she gathered herself and leapt. She landed nimbly on the snowgrass, and on she galloped, swinging wide around the small mob of mares, on towards the lightly timbered ridges that surrounded Tin Mine Hut.

Warridanga was suddenly aware of Coorabin galloping there at her flank, the colt straining to stay by her side. She could hear the sobbing of his breath, his chestnut coat turned dark with sweat and eyes showing the whites.

Thinking perhaps there might be other mobs of brumbies with their bimbles somewhere on the other side of those great, timbered ridges, Warridanga propped and swung neatly around a clump of sapling scrub. Coorabin was there beside her once more, and the two played chase through the candlebarks, lit up brilliantly by the shafts of light that streamed through the leaves, so Warridanga seemed indeed a mare of the sun.