Silence At Dawn {Tingara}

[Ehetere]

The air was crisp that morning. It was summer still, and the weather was hot and bothersome, except for times of the day like this before the sun could heat the earth once more. Breeding season was still in full swing, but Nepelle was confident that no stallion would dare try and steal his growing herd with Fira in her current mood looming around.

The bright red chestnut trotted through the bush, breathing in the sweet mountain air to steady any of his nerves. Determination had set in, and there was no turning back now. What choice did he have? Fira was threatening to leave if he did not challenge for the Kingship soon, and he had no doubt that if he returned to the herd today anything but victorious the result would be the same.

The sun broke free over the mountains, and everything was suddenly drenched in light. Nepelle’s coat lit up like fire, and he paused for a moment, allowing for his eyes to adjust before continuing on with new urgency. How was he supposed to challenge the black King if he could not even find him? He wondered whether Fira would accept this excuse, but again he doubted she would. There was no going back to his beloved mares and offspring until this coming fight was won or lost.

The mouth of Yarraman’s Valley was up ahead, and Nepelle had thought to look here first. Not because he thought that he was most likely to find Tingara here, but because there was a certain amount of destiny surrounding the Valley. It was a valley of Kings, and it seemed poetic that any epic battle for Kingship might take place there.

He did not hesitate or his stride falter as the entered the more shadowed valley, and it occurred to him that the bush itself seemed stilled in anticipation, as if it knew something momentous was going to occur. Nothing but silence could be heard aside from the faintest rustling of leaves and the sound of his own hoof-falls. The atmosphere was eerie, like the ghosts of brumbies past were running beside him.

Nepelle stopped about halfway down the Valley, throwing his head up and listening. There had been no real indication of horses so far, not any recent ones anyway, but he still had the impression that he might find the King nearby.

Swivelling his ears and hearing nothing still, he let loose a trumpeting challenge, one that could only be directed at the black King himself. It echoed cacophonously off the canyon walls, increasing in volume until Nepelle’s own ears were ringing with the sound of it. If Tingara was indeed nearby he would have heard it, and he would come. Kings were not cowards to run from a challenge, this Nepelle was sure of, else they would be shaken from their thrones before their rules could really begin.

[tingara]

Droplets, stirred by the wind, fell from the leaves of the gnarled and twisted snowgums and onto the soft green snowgrass. Although the morning that had dawned was hot, there were still remnants of the freak summer storm that had shaken the Cascades to its very core. Like a colt, a great black stallion nearing the end of his prime, watched with soft brown eyes as the glittering water slid over a small bacon and egg bush’s leaves before falling to the ground where it did not stay for long in the dry warmth of the day. To others it would not have been interesting, the pods of the bush would have caught their attention well before the drops of rains past but Tingara had found himself fascinated for he did not know whether he’d see another summer storm.

It was a thought that made the King of the Brumbies sigh as he nibbled on the delicious pods the bacon and egg bush had to offer. The storm had been wild and had set alight old fires with each strike of lightning. Tingara had found himself galloping through it as though racing the winds and the rains with each step. He had roared his challenge at the thunder clouds and had then bolted like he had done as a yearling. Unwittingly his hooves had guided him to the mouth of Yarraman’s Valley and he had a woken with quite a start at the sight of where he was.

The valley was not a place that black stallion had wanted to return to. Not only was it a valley of kings but it was also a resting place for his one true rival. Out of respect for Nevada, Tingara had stayed away to let the grey stallion’s bones bleach in peace but the thrill of the storm had led him back for reasons the King did not yet know.

Black pelt prickling with anticipation of something he couldn’t figure out, Tingara left his bacon and egg bush and wandered further into the valley. Memories and ghosts of the past lingered just out of sight, making the stallion shiver a little. Here he had lived for many years with his herd of beautiful mares and glorious children but now the valley was devoid of horses. Instead the grazing lands were dotted with a handful of kangaroos and thick snowgrass that waved like the mane of a foal in the morning breeze.

Everything was so peaceful and the King felt content enough to drop his head and graze. In time he would return to his mares and foals and would greet each one lovingly for although he enjoyed being alone he still missed each and every member of his herd fiercely. But it seemed like the peace and his herd would have to wait for him a little longer. The loud, ringing challenge reached Tingara’s ears and at once the black stallion was alert. He knew that call.

Nepelle.

The chestnut stallion he’d entrusted his daughter to had come to the valley looking for him. Without a moment’s hesitation the King answered the younger stallion with a thunderous challenge of his own but he did not move. ”If you wish to challenge me, you will find me here in the valley. I will not move, I will wait for you!” he called out. Eyes glued to the direction Nepelle’s challenge had come from, Tingara stood proudly waiting for his opponent.

[Ehetere]

Sure enough, after the echoes of his own challenge had died down, the voice of the black king rang out, making Nepelle shiver with anticipation. Whatever instinct had led him here had been scarily accurate. Cantering up the Valley to where the King’s call had come, Nepelle was uncertain of his future: whether he would be leaving the valley at all.

Coming around the bend, Nepelle saw him waiting and knew that this would be like no fight he had ever fought before. His thoughts flickered briefly to his mate Kurrin, wondering whether he would ever see her again, and then to his lovely offspring, and then an uncharacteristic stab of hate at Fira. Why could she have not let him bide his time, for when the black was a little less magnificent? She was so impatient, and now he may be paying the price for that.

Snorting, Nepelle half reared in a salute. He did not want to waste any more time, else he feared he may have to leave. He did not speak either - as it was not in his nature to fight his friends. His entire life in the High Country had been connected to Tingara, and it felt like everything had been leading up to this moment. He had been living in Tingara’s shadow, taking care of his wayward mares and his daughter. The time had come for him to step into the light and face up.

Stepping forward with intention, Nepelle wasted no more time. There would be no last words if he was to die here, no fanfare or goodbyes. Slowly, all outside distractions were tuned out until all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing and all he could see was the black King in front of him. Though he was old, he was far from spent, and this would be almost certainly the hardest fight of Nepelle’s life.

[tingara]

Before the chestnut stallion reached him, the King’s thoughts turned to his family who were surely waiting for him. It saddened him to think that they may never see him again. This fight could take his life and his mares and they would all find out about it from the excited gossiping of the Gang-gangs. Sweet Crayola, kind Sia and his mate Myrrina were just a few of the faces that crossed the black’s mind as he waited for what seemed like an age. Here he was on the brink of death in Yarraman’s Valley once again.

Although it seemed like it was a long time, Nepelle only took a few moments to arrive to where he had been summoned. Tingara was impressed with what he saw when his eyes raked over the chestnut. He had filled out and had become a fully grown and well muscled stallion. This would not be as easy as beating an over exuberant and foolish colt. The magnificent chestnut was no longer a young horse, but instead he was a stallion in his prime ready to challenge for the Kingship.

Truth be told, the King of the High Country had not predicted the other stallion’s hostility towards him. He supposed it was his fault he had not seen the challenge coming for he had placed too much trust in an obviously ambitious horse. Tingara answered Nepelle’s little salute with a half-rear of his own and that was as much acknowledgement of their polite and civil past the black showed the chestnut.

As soon as he touched the ground the King matched his opponent’s stepped forward with two of his own. He may have been old but he was still agile on his feet. He had litheness and stamina on his side from a mother who had been a fine horse of the humans, and that most brumbies lacked. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he had maintained the kingship for so long but the thought was not important. What was important was defending his title and defending his mares.

With a slight buck, Tingara reached Nepelle and placed his head, neck arched, close to his. From now on it would be a game of who bit or flinched first and whoever did so would face the wrath of the other. His muscles trembled as his heart raced and adrenaline and testosterone was pumped through his system. He would win this and teach the younger horse a lesson for interrupting such a peaceful morning.

[Ehetere]

Everything was still as the two stallions faced off, the only noise in Nepelle’s ears the beating of his own heart and the heavy breathing of both stallions. His patience with fights like this was not brilliant, and he was tense, coiled to spring at the slightest provocation. The tension was enormous, like being sucked under the flow of a giant flood of water and being unable to breathe.

Unable to bear it any longer, Nepelle slashed out with his teeth, half rearing to get his face out of the range of the black. His whites were showing and he lashed out again blindly, the anticipation and need to fight overwhelming his senses momentarily.

[tingara]

Nepelle’s teeth caught him painfully on the cheek but Tingara ignored it, for the moment he had momentum to use. As the chestnut stallion pulled his head away, blinded to all things momentarily, the King wheeled sharply so his hindquarters faced his opponent. At once he began to buck and kick out at the other stallion’s side and back legs. He’d learnt previously that to lame would be to gain an almost instantaneous victory.

Still, it had also meant that he’d had to kill another to prevent a slow and pained death. The thought of the fight with Nevada and the crawling feeling it brought made the black stallion stop his backwards assault in favour of dodging around to Nepelle’s other side for an attempt on the withers and back. Attacking and then dodging would not work with the chestnut as they were both lithe stallions.

With one last back, Tingara reared, poised to bring is flailing hooves down onto the younger horse’s back. It would hurt and make it easier to get hold of the withers.

[Ehetere]

Heavy hooves smashed into his chest, throwing him thoroughly off balance and almost sending him toppling to the ground. Returning to the ground on all four hooves – somehow – he kept his head high to avoid any kicks that may have been aimed there. Already he was gasping for breath – thanks to being winded – but with such adrenaline pumping through his veins he could not stop now.

The black halted his assault for whatever unknown reason, and Nepelle darted around to follow the black’s sneaky tactics. Swinging his body around sharply to keep it out of the firing line of the King’s high rear, he back up a little to avoid any flailing hooves which might hit him stunningly in the head and render him unconscious.

Avoiding attacks was not going to win him this battle however – he was not sure who would tire faster: him or the King, and he did not have the opportunity to take that gamble. The black was a far too experienced fighter for him to think he could goaded him into becoming so worked up he could exhaust him without landing attacks of his own.

Coming in cautiously, he made an attempt to swing his haunches into the King’s side in hopes of getting him to turn so he might make a grab at his withers.

[tingara]

The swing of the chestnut’s hindquarters made contact with Tingara’s chest, leaving him momentarily winded. Snorting and sucking desperately at the air he backed away, barely avoiding a dive for his withers. It took a moment for the black to get his breath back but as soon as it returned so did he to the battle. There was no more dancing and prancing around, the King wanted the fight over and done with as soon as possible. Inwardly he cursed being the King, as fights for the rule of the High Country were long, drawn out affairs.

[Ehetere]

Nepelle felt his body connect with the King’s rather solidly, and made a slightly desperate grab at his withers which barely missed thanks to a hasty retreat by the black. Nepelle could tell that the longer he went without causing any significant damage, without landing an attack, would spell ill for him indeed. Surely the King would pick up his fighting techniques, start to predict his moves. No horse who won and held the position for so long could do anything but – how could he hope to win if this wasn’t finished soon?

Already, the fight was becoming more serious – so far it had been nothing more than assessing each other’s strength. Now Nepelle was worried the King would spot a weakness in his armor, and that might be the end of him. He needed to choose a weakness he spotted in the King and exploit it as soon as possible, or he would be exhausted long before the fight was over.

So he redoubled his attack, changing his tactics as randomly as possible in the hope it would confuse the more experienced fighter and one would catch him off guard. He knew he was expending his energy faster than the big black, but if he could just land one solid kick at the other’s leg or get a solid grip on the withers he might still have a chance in his.