In the Threadbare Night [Mering Herd//Eira]

[Ehetere]

Lark felt his forelegs hit flesh and snorted excitedly, thinking for that split moment he my have had a chance. But the simple fact of the matter was that he was too young, too light, to really cause much damage to the bigger horse at all, no matter how hard he tried.

Lark also realized his small victory would be short lived very soon afterwards, when he felt sharp teeth grab at his withers. Panicking, he thrashed about like a mad thing in attempt to shake the bigger horse’s grip. Finally he felt the vice like grip loosen, any he pushed away hard only to receive a stinging gash on his lathered neck.

Screaming with both rage and pain, Lark whipped around like a snowgum in the lashings of a storm and locked his own jaw on the other’s neck. He was shaking now, whether out of sheer exertion or rage it was unclear, but despite his efforts the stronger soon pulled away with some force, wrenching Lark’s teeth painfully.

Hooves struck him, and he instinctually dodged away, avoiding most of the barrage. He was tiring quickly, despite being raised for stamina way up on the steep peaks of the Ramshead. He saw the bigger stallion distracted by the silver filly he had tracked here, and seeing his chance, he snacked out his dark grey neck to offer one last spiteful bite before rocketing off into the scrub.

His run did not last long and he came to a stop: legs barely holding out. All that kept him upright was pure adrenaline, which also kept most of the hurt at bay for the moment, but he knew full well it would come later – probably rendering him unable to move. With this in mind, he began to slink away into the shelter of the night, being as careful as possible to leave no trace of his own track so that the grullo could not follow him. Retreating to the slopes of the Bull, he found a small clearing with a little trickling pool and tasty seed pods in which he would recover over the next few days – harboring resentment for the stallion whom had just beaten him.

[Rivre]

He saw the grey coming, but chose to ignore the spiteful last attempt, instead just flashing teeth and rump, warning. It was quite pleasurable to watch him speed away, and he whinnied joyously for Maia, for Embar, for Boorang and for the queer new silver in the scrub. He would have to fight many more times in order to protect his wonderful silver creamy - but she was worth all the pain and Mering he that he would risk anything, fight anyone to keep her at his side.

In the wind that lifted silver grey banner from sweated neck, it told of the coming fall, when leaves would shrivel and wandering back to the cold hard ground - bitter as the winter, and he huffed quietly. The next season of cold to come to the bush country would herald his fourth year of living in this world, this place - he neared his prime but had fought only one horse, barely even a colt!

He would keep his mares safe this winter, they would stick to the lush patches of grass in his secret flat - one that he hoped was in fact still secret... Then in the spring, they would move to better pastures.

"O' silver mare that hides so well, won't you come out so that I may greet you in the way of a proper stallion?" His breath left curling pillars of soft white cloud in the air, almost causing him to snort in surprise, was it really that cold? Or were his eyes just playing with him?

[stormsnow]

Eria strained to listen as the sounds of the fight faded and then died. The silver filly heard the grey colt's hoofsteps recede, but the stallion's scent remained strong. She was slightly startled by the stallion's voice, shattering the brief silence. Enthralled, she trotted cautiously out into the open, facing the earth-coloured stallion, telling herself that she had nothing to lose. Eyeing he and his herd curiously, but barely being able to see them in the darkness, Eria whinnied, "I am Eria, named for the snow in which I hide. May I ask of your name, O noble stallion?"

[Cheyenne]

Maia whinnied lightly to celebrate Mering's victory and to welcome the new silver mare who she guessed would accompany them in their adventures. Flicking her tail, she trotter over to the handsome stallion and stood by his side, didding her velvety nose into his neck as if to say sorry I bolted off.

Of course she never meant to gallop away in a hurry at the sudden attack of the other stallion. Maia wasn't the most bravest of silvers and never would be. Sometimes she even felt like she was never up to the silvers standard that Thowra had set. She was silent and could hide well and she was fast, but no, she wasn't much brave.

She smiled at Eria cheerfully, glad to see another of her own coat colour but then glanced at Mering and frowned ever so slightly that he probably wouldn't have noticed. The reason she frowned was not because she was disappointed but because she was scared for him. Owning a silver mare was a call for trouble, but owning two. She shook her head to get rid of the pictures that played through her mind. Mering was strong and almost unbeatable in Maia's eyes. As long as they were with him then they would be safe.

[Rivre]

ooc; Don't know whether to wait for Shay and Yaruka, that's why I'm not posting a reply...

[yaruka]

Boorrang had paid the battling horses little to no heed, keeping out of the way but never truly concerned. Both were unlikely to do any serious damage to each other anyways. Likewise, she barely stirred when Mering whinned victoriously, nor when the silver horse came to greet him. She spared the newcomer one curious glance before returning to nosing about, nipping at the grass, attempting to satiate the ravish hunger she knew came with pregnancy, for she had realised now she was in foal again, before the grass was gone for the year.

---------------

From the dark brush a much more curious pair of eyes watched the silver horse join the little group of horses. But Booralie's attention soon shifted from the creamy mare to eye the stallion, huffing in excitement when she realised she had been right to suspect it was he, Mering, the stallion she had met when she was only a yearling. Eagerly she turned to Illaroo, a ghost horse behind her.
"I told you it was his call!" she said. And before the creamy buckskin could reply, she had dashed down the hill to greet the stallion. Illaroo, horrified, sprang after her, for once throwing caution to the wind so that he stood out as a bright creamy outline agains thte dark backdrop of trees and the sky.
OOC: bleck, sorry it's so bad-I was rushing :/

[Rivre]

Grey muscle merged with shadow in the night, and he turned to nuzzle Maia thankfully, gaze falling to the other creamy whose call was so enticing, nostrils flaring silently as he drew in a single breath, too caught up in his victory to have noticed the two who watched from above. "I am Mering - named for the earth..." he felt the way the words formed on his lips, and let them hang breathlessly in the air, his heart rate finally slowing. "Who and why, O' creamy mare of the snowgum leaves, do you seek? Is it I?"

He felt the hair prickle along his flank, felt eyes bore into him, and threw head up to the blackened heavens, lobes quelled into stillness, as clay dun filly came charging from the cover of the higher branches; he tensed, and then relaxed - gaze widening as recognition finally took hold, "Booralie, it is I!" he called softly, for he had already drawn enough attention to himself on this night, but it seemed she had already noted who he was. He offered grey nose to hers, and noted how beautiful she had grown; he had thought her lovely as a little yearling, but now she had matured, she had grown into the defined planes of her face, the softness of eyes, long legged and strong.

It did not take long for Mering to realize she had come alone to greet him, and for a moment he thought he may have to fight again, this time with a silver horse of quite similar build - but it was not the enemy who came high-stepping, but her brother, Illaroo. Mering almost snorted in surprise - did still they travel together? If he was to take Booralie tonight, what would he have to say of it? He turned to Eira, to the lovely Maia, to Embar and to Boorang, and called them softly. It was a melody of gentle lullabies, woven into a song that he found forming on his tongue, lips turning to tug gently on the reddening mane of the new arrival, "Come, it is time that you came with me - if you still want to?"

[stormsnow]

The silver filly nodded nervously at the new arrivals. Eria then turned back to the stallion and neighed softly, "I will come with you, O Mering of the earth." She stayed where she was for the time being, unsure of what to do.

OOC: Ug. Sorry for the really short, bad post. I don't have a lot of muse at the moment.

[yaruka]

OOC: I think it's my go?

BIC: Booralie was breathless with excitement and the recognition the silver horse showed her. How unusual for him to have remembered her! The filly didn't realise quite how popular she was with all she met. Since she had seen Mering last he had acquired quite a herd, though this didn't bother her. Genuinely lighthearted and friendly, she returned his touch with a soft bump of her own muzzle, before turning to look with bright, friendly eyes at the other mares. Illaroo arrived behind her, snorting more from anxiety than exertion she knew, and she turned to nuzzle him reassuringly. Mering tugged her mane gently, and she tossed her sweet head before turning back to the silver stallion.

"I am ready." she said simply. "Illaroo and Durroon were only looking out for my best interests when they stopped me from going with you before, but I am of age now, it is only right." As she spoke she turned again to Illaroo, throwing an apologetic glance at the buckskin who was regarding Mering with a cautious, yet, so far, unthreatening gaze. "It is only right," she repeated, whispering to him. She was very close to her brother, but she could not stay with him for always. Affectionately she bumped the pale creamy horse with her nose, then stepped forwards to touch her red muzzle to Mering's grey one.

-----------------
Boorang's ears flicked at Mering's call, and casually she grazed her way over, though in no haste. The stallion wouldn't leave without her, that she was certain of, and besides, he was still busy making friends with those other fillies. For now she was quite content to keep grazing this good grass, ever hungry in her current condition.

OOC; mine's also not that great I'm rushing... :/

[Rivre]

Mering nodded sagely to Eira, joy lighting his features at her reply, but gaze remaining calm, collected, as he turned to face Booralie once more, lobes pricked as the creamy stallion stepped out from behind. He was doing a lot of nodding on this night!
"I am ready" she answered certainly, and he nickered softly as they bumped noses. It was high time they left this place, and this stallion to it's business - he was not at all comfortable under his watchful eye, and so with head thrown up, he pivoted to face the gathering herd; to face Embar, Boorang, Eira, Maia and now Booralie.

He knew that the lovely grey pinto was in foal to him, and that she grazed out of need now - so vital was it that they reached his hiding place. "Let us go now - like shadow horses - for none must know of where we head," he let chords hang for a moment, before turning his tunes towards Booralie, "Place your hooves where mine have been if you fear this silence." He began at a steady trot, neck arched and gait swinging, as he knew a beautiful stream of mares wove behind himself up the Brindle Bull, and happiness was what it made to feel to know that they were his - but also a fearfulness, that he must keep them safe, alone.

It did not take him long to reach the crest of the hillside, but he turned abruptly left, swinging out hind quarters, staying in the shady leaves of the snowgums and candlebarks as he made his way along the ridge. The track was not well-traveled, this could be seen in the print-less dirt, the untouched wattle and fresh springy heather, that had yet to be pressed in by hoof and stone; these were the parts which he kept to, as they wove along and along through the night. It was a disjointed journey, for sometimes they would stop to graze a while, nervous under the moonlight, flinching at the stupidest of things, and then they were moving again, forever trotting. And then, they turned the last rise of the Brindle, turned it so that now they were in the dip between two ridges - a gully, and they turned downwards once more.

They walked now, leaping rock and rubble stone that scattered the hillside, tyring as they might to keep to heather and snowgrass, as Mering led them on. Finally, they reach the very top of the narrow passage, so that they could look out over the country in which no brumbies wandered, so far were they from where they knew, but Mering knew this place. They stopped on a jutting level of rock and hill, there seemed a dull ringing under their hoof-fall, but it was unheard of for a cliff to be hollow. He made suddenly for the edge of the cliff hang, and began to descend the mighty slope; something which turned out to be a whole lot easier than it looked.

In the darkness it was a trap, like the mens yards, and he could sense the nervous excitement which traveled through his mares. He looked back reassuringly, and hooves touched the soft stems of the flat for the first time, just as the first pink rays of dawn tainted the heavens.

It was beautiful, none could doubt it, and spectacular under the new born sunlight. It was a flat of grass that spread evenly in each direction - enough to graze this small herd without trouble. Each side sloped towards the edge, like a basin, until you reached cliff and a haughty drop. The cliff-hang which had hidden it from sight turned out to be a shallow cave, or an overhang of sorts in which a group of mares could hide if need arose. He searched around for a little while, nose to the ground, keeping his mares from grazing as he went cavorting about the place; all he found were the stale scents of his mother, and an odd smell that seemed unwittingly familiar... He lingered a little over his find, and then dropped his head to graze - content.

No-one would find them here - it was almost impassable for themselves let alone a blundering stallion. Gaze flickered to the creamies, to Eira, and he grazed his way slowly towards her dainty frame, so close that his nose touched hers often, comforting. Then he turned to Booralie, and nibbled her mane once again, flank brushing against Maia's as he finally came to rest in the midst of all the grazing mares, head draped across her withers, lids closing often, heavy with the weight of his tiredness; the grass was lush here, long and plentiful, they would do well this summer - before winter took their beauty and their health with it - he was determined not to loose any of these creatures to such an unworthy foe. No, this year would be a good one, and a one to remember.

OOC; Sorry it was so bad :/ Meh, museless like the rest of you x) If you want to reply you may, but I think I will be finishing here for Mering. His new Winter thread will be up sometime soon, lets hope we don't get as behind on this one as we did on this xD