The blue roan brumby, [O]

[Corowa]

The blue roan mare grazed alone on the rough snowgrass spur. The dry northerly wind was blowing, and Ballook sheltered in between the high, wide trunks of the scribbly gums. In the gully below, the wind stirred in the snowgums, and the mare’s ears flicked back at the distant crack of a stockwhip, somewhere further south.

Gradually, Ballook started to pick her way carefully downwards. The slope steepened, dropped suddenly down over a great outcrop of granite, to a shallow bush creek far below. Presently, the wind started up again, and there was suddenly the strong smell of smoke. The mare stopped, and stood for a moment with head held high, outlined by that high ledge of granite.

There was something in those hot northerly winds that made her feel uneasy. Not even the currawong called, and the mare found herself hurrying on over the heaps of rock, slipping, stumbling, until finally she was down onto that clear snowgrass flat. There was no sound but for the distant crack of the stockwhip and the mare dropped her head and began to graze.

To the north of the gully, was a sheltering stand of snowgums, and Ballook drifted towards the first of the big, old gums. Her mother had been born in this country, a great-granddaughter of Whiteface, and the mare had gone no further than south of the Monyangul River, to the steep ridges and deep gullies of the Suggan Buggan ranges, to find herself a mate.

Ballook stopped to rest beneath the spreading branches of one of those big snowgums. The bush seemed unbearably hot, and the mare was dripping with sweat by the time she dropped her head to crop at the snowgrass. Once, Ballook had run with the mob of a big, bay stallion. Then, the stockmen had come and captured a great many brumbies, taken them north to Tumut, and that fine bay stallion had vanished into the bush without track or sign.

[stormsnow]

Another blue roan was on Stockwhip Hill that day. Barwon trotted through the bush, his head erect, all his senses alert. He was almost at the fringe of the trees when he spotted a mare. A blue roan like himself, no less. The huge stallion quickened his pace.

When he was about two metres from the other brumby, he called out, "Greetings. I am Barwon. May I inquire of your name?" His voice was light and friendly. The blue roan was not an aggressive or obnoxious stallion, but was normally calm and composed.

[E!]

The summer was the most pleasant Bokara had experienced in a long time, he was feeling vibrant, alive and full of the fire of his youth. He seemed more beautiful than ever, his slender, graceful frame bulking out only slightly but making him appear stronger; more experienced. And he was. The fight with Yarakai had forced himself to feel more confident, and because of this, he had been traveling with a light heart; Quinja at his side as they moved through the High Country and further south.

He was a delicate looking beast, beautiful in his grace. Though a simple dark bay, his handsome head was fine boned and he held it now with more pride than he would once would have, his beautful body slender and agile. His chest was deep, providing plenty of lung room, as well as having long, flawless legs that carried him well over the rough country, and even better over the flats.

Now, though, the lovely bay stood amongst the snowgums, head raised inquisitively, ears pricked. His large, liquid mahogany eyes surveyed the land keenly; excitedly. The smoothly curved nostrils on his sooty nose twitched as the scent of smoke, turning his head sharply to the North before looking back as a small movement caught his eye. The stallions muscles tensed as he froze, watching the lovely blue roan that he had somehow missed before.

A sound distracted him, and for a fraction of a second Bokara's attention shifted to the snowgums across and to the left of him where a sliver of blue roan hide appeared and was gone. As his gaze returned to where the blue roan mare had been standing, he lowered his beautiful head slightly, black mane slipping down over his fine boned face as he tried to find a trace of her scent.

Bokara lifted his head smoothly, trotting forward, his grace evident in every movement made. As he neared the place where he'd last seen the blue roan, her scent drew stronger, pulled him forward eagerly. It was not that Bokara was searching for more mares - the idea of a large herd did not appeal to him as such. But to have a few sweet mares of his own, that he knew and held a fondness for, that thought was the one that appealed to him.

The heat of the sun warmed his dark bay back as Bokara picked his way down the slope, eyes switching from the earth below him to where he was heading. He paused, letting out a warm whicker toward the blue roan mare. His confidences were slightly put out, however, when another emerged from the snowgums and into the clearing. It was another blue roan, perhaps the mares sire? No, from the way this newcomer spoke, he was also looking for the mares affections. Bokara said nothing, intelligent eyes watching the blue mare for her reaction to both stallions - it seemed the summer had stirred the want for mares.

[Corowa]

A big blue roan stallion headed over the high, wide flat towards her, and Ballook watched him with head high, every muscle tense and braced. There were many stallions that ran the rough country of the Stockwhip, huge, strong stallions, grandsons and great-grandsons of Whiteface himself.

“I am Ballook of the blue gums,” the mare said. Her ears flickered, and she wondered if perhaps this stallion had come alone. There seemed to be no sign of mares melting back into the thick scrub behind him, or standing, waiting on that bare snowgrass ridge. Ballook stepped out of the snowgums then, and with the sunlight glistening in the silver hairs of her mane and tail, stood for the stallion to admire.

The mare pranced a little, teased the stallion so he would be too intrigued by her to be aware of anything else. Something moved down the steep snowgrass spur. Ballook paused, and glanced back towards the rough summit of the Stockwhip. She saw the bay stallion and grey mare moving quietly down the ridge, and she found herself suddenly unsure. Ballook watched the other stallion intently, thought that perhaps while this blue roan stallion might have to stop and listen, she could fade away into the bush.

It was then the bay stallion called softly. Ballook remained completely still. Then slowly, she backed away into the snowgums. The touch of the long snowgum leaves, made her spring forwards in fright, and the mare realised perhaps the two stallions would fight. Though it was thrilling to stand in the sunlight and fascinate the stallions with her splendid silver-blue hide, Ballook wondered if the stallions would let her escape, or if she would be forced to go with one of them. Surely, they both wanted her for themselves.

[stormsnow]

The blue roan was pleased when the mare replied. He was about to say something when he noticed Ballok look back the way he'd come. Looking around, Barwon noticed the other stallion right away. He was a slender bay, short in comparison to himself. He noticed that the bay had a mare with him. Barwon noticed the stallion walked as if he was confident that this was a fight he could win. The blue roan snorted softly.

Selfish! He already ran with a mare, who doubtlessly loved him, and yet he desired another? He himself had fought and one a fight or two, but always the mare had been attached to her stallion, and Barwon was too kind-hearted to take her away from her loved one. If he fought with this stallion and won, well- he would let the mare that already ran with the stallion chose whither she wished to go.

He extended his head to touch Ballok's nose gently with his own. So that only she could hear, he murmured softly, "If you would permit me running with you, I shall fight for your favour. But if you feel your heart swayed by yonder bay, then I shall leave directly." He meant it; he had never lied to another horse, least of all a mare or filly.

[E!]

Bokara's expression seemed torn - he wanted the beautiful blue roan mare, but the thought of losing both the mare and Quinja in a fight seemed too much of a sacrifice...especially when the odds were turned against his favour. Though he was swift and graceful, his strength was still gathering, and he lacked experience, despite his fight with Yarakai. The blue stallion, however, seemed older and stronger than he...and Quinja was growing ever more lovely as the days passed, soon Bokara would be unable to hold her as the want of stallions pushed him to the brink.

But now was not a time to think of such things. Bokara was too attatched to his beloved grey mare, and though the blue roan sparkled with a sense of gaiety that Bokara was very much attracted to, Quinja meant more to him than any other in the High Country. It helped that the sweet mare below seemed frightened of what conflict might occur; for Bokara was not one for causing discomfort to anybody.

He tossed his head, black mane flying into the air as he gave a half rear - as if to say 'I will remember you' and then backed away. His eyes remained locked onto the young mare for a few moments before he pivoted smoothly and surged back up the way he had come, giving a joyous neigh to Quinja as he went. They would venture further alone; but Bokara knew whom he would be seeking out when the next spring came.

[aquiladorado]

A sturdy roan trotted out over the sloping terrain of the Stockwhip, his spirits high and his large head held the same way. The rhythmic thuds of his footfalls sounded gently on the dry snowgrass, mingled with the similar sounds of another. The mare that accompanied the stallion moved through the grass like a bush fire, her coat relatively close to his, minus the roan pattern. The stallion gave a cheeky nudge to the mare before racing forward into a canter.

The blazing sun sat high above in the endless blue portrait of sky, the thin clouds rarely crossing its path. A clear summer’s day – while lovely indeed – brought with it the scorching heat of the season and both of the Brumbies that traveled beneath the inescapable rays glistened with a coating of damp sweat. The stallion surged forward once more, enjoying the feeling of the wind rushing past his sides and playing with his mane. A scent reached his nostrils on that very wind, and the large roan quickly changed his course. The smell belonged to a Bay, whose hide could be seen retreating back over the slope and across the open land with a Grey not far behind. Baralga called a friendly greeting to the pair, waited for an answer, but grew impatient before long and moved off down the slope they had come from.

To his delight, below was another pair of Brumbies! He called out another greeting, shaking his head as he pranced down the slope to make acquaintances with these new characters. The stallion was young, and obviously of the friendly sort, so he was usually up for any kind of social gatherings. Baralga paused briefly, checking back to make sure that the mare had followed him; but realizing she was almost directly beside him, the roan lifted himself onto his hind legs and squealed in joy, moving off down the slope once again. As he drew closer, Baralga could see that these other creatures had coats like him, although blue was found where his was brown. It was a stallion and a mare - just like himself and the mare Kurra – and the young roan regarded them with bright eyes.

He gave a nicker to the Bay at his heels, and slowed to a stop before the two Brumbies. ”Greetings, friends, and what a lovely day to share this pleasure!”[/i] He nodded respectfully to both the stallion and the mare, but let his eyes remain on the mare and her striking white blaze as he spoke again. ”I am Baralga, a companion, and this is Kurra named for the storm. What shall we call you, blue Brumbies of Stockwhip Hill?”[/i] The stallion did not lift his gaze from the mare, even at the introduction of his companion. Something about her shimmering coat, like the treasures of a sapphire, or her overall structure held his attention and would not let it go.

[stormsnow]

Kurra matched her pace to Baralga's as they cantered down the slope towards two blue roans, a mare and a stallion. She dipped her head as the bay roan introduced them. The blood bay mare was happy to be with Baralga; he treated her as an equal, and with respect. She had hope now that a good relationship was starting between herself and the roan.

She surveyed the pair in front of her; the stallion was huge, and looked as if he could take on two other stallions or colts at once. The mae at his side was smaller, but she was pretty. Kurra descided that the pair must have just become aquainted with each other, for they stood, independent of the other as they listened to Baralga.

[Corowa]

Ballook turned back to the blue roan stallion. The stallion extended his nose, but the mare backed up with a squeal. She stood, only half-seen through the rough-barked snowgums.

Her ears flickered, and she could see something move down the other side of the ridge, thought for an instant it might have been a brumby or two, but then they were gone into a wide band of messmate. Though Ballook watched intently for any sign of the powerful-looking stallion and his bay mate, there was nothing. It was if the two had never been, though surely, both had been real.

The proud bay stallion had vanished. Ballook had seen him up on that high snowgrass ridge, gather up that fine grey mare and drive her off down into the scrubby bush on the other side of the slope. The mare stood with head high, listened tensely for a moment, every part of her trembling with such a strong feeling of longing.

Presently, the mare stepped out from beneath the snowgums once more. The blue roan stallion still stood there, and she knew he wanted her to run with him. He was a big, dull looking stallion, and though he looked kind and gentle, Ballook longed for excitement and the rough, timbered country of the south. She stretched out her nose to the stallion, and blew softly through her nostrils, told him she could not go with him.

Just then, a loud, trumpeting call rang out over the sudden stillness of the bush. Ballook threw up her head, and the mare stood, silvered by the sunlight, every part of her trembling with excitement. She was intrigued by the sight of the stallion as he galloped down the rough snowgrass spur, a big bay mare at his flank. Her nostrils quivered, and the blood throbbed, swift and thrilling in her veins.

Ballook pricked her ears forwards and nickered a soft greeting, feeling the stirring of the snowgums behind her. Her hide prickled at the sound of the wind as it moved gently through the leaves, and the mare stepped forwards then, every silver-blue hair glistening, lit up dramatically by the sunlight. “I am Ballook, daughter of Boobook, mare of the blue gums,” she said proudly.

[stormsnow]

Barwon could barely suppress a snort of dissapointment when Balook told him she would not run with him. A small thorn of pain jarred his mind; then he realised that she might think of him as dull or boring; that because of what he had said, he might not care whether she stayed with him or not. He whirled around at the sound of hooves and saw a firey bay mare and a bay roan stallion galloping in his direction. To their inquiries, he replied: "I am Barwon, named for the river."