Ghosts and Dreams [Illoura/Thal Mares]

[Tiggs]

OOC: If the Thalmares could wait until I give the go ahead? Thal and Illoura would like some alonetime XD

He could see her up ahead. Oh he had her now! He’d been after her flitting ghost for almost a thousand heartbeats! And he was closing on her. He was winding through the bush, running down wombats and trampling saplings in his path. Just a little faster, just a little further and he’d have her! Illoura. Beautiful, creamy, elusive Illoura. Thalera could smell her, her scent tantalising his sooty nose.

The sooty palomino came galloping out of the trees, ready to bath his eyes in the beautiful silver hide of his dream mare. But she was not there! He gave a throbbing call of disappointment. Had he just been chasing a shadow? Had she escaped somehow? The snowgrass ahead of him ran down to the bank of the Murray. To his left, the river raged deep and full, and to his right, the engorged Dead Horse Creek joined it, churning the water into swirling eddies. There was no way Illoura had crossed either river here.

He was at a dead end. The stallion tossed his head, and stomped the ground in frustration. He moved down the bank, treading carefully down to the water to snatch a drink. A great many things were whisked past in the water. Branches, tussocks of grass and other debris. Thalera thought he even saw the carcass of an unfortunate kangaroo being tumbled in the swelling water. He turned up his nose, and treated once he’d quenched his thirst.

Well if Illoura was not here, then he could just graze and wait for his mares. The two had abandoned him to give birth to their foals. He had warned them not to go far, not quite understanding the need for mares to leave his presence when they gave birth. His sooty tail flicked against his equally sooty rump, while his pale hooves cut into the ground as he lowered his head to graze. The grass was lush and damp after the previous night’s storm, and with the heat of the summer sun rising, it would soon be too hot to stand out in the open and graze.

[Ehetere]

It was not a silver shadow dancing before Thalera, but after him. The creamy mare darted gracefully, secretly, silently through the bush, tailing after the sooty palomino that was so desperately searching up ahead. His eagerness made it no challenge – he was making a racket that only a deaf creature would not be able to hear, and she did not even have to keep him in her vision to know where he was, or check the ground for his ever present tracks.

The Silver mare still moved with the agility of a much younger animal, her frame still lithe, swift. She was five years old now, but still felt that she was a beautiful silver filly with a mane like moonlight and a coat of soft cream, teasing stallions everywhere. Well, that was exactly what she was doing now.

There was no doubt in her mind that it was for she that Thalera was seeking. And what could she do but tease him a little more. Oh what fun this was! She had missed outings like this – after her close encounter with the stockmen she had spent her time running with Wilgee – Wilgee who was ever cautious. Even she had to admit they were no fabulous fillies anymore, but Illoura, stubborn as ever, refused to think her life was over by the time she was five. So exploring and teasing it was.

Up ahead, Thalera galloped out of the trees, clearly expecting to see her standing there waiting for him. What did he take her for? His call was full of disappointment, and from the shelter of the trees Illoura smirked in amusement. He was so frustrated! Illoura undeniably loved being the centre of attention, and moments like these only served to inflate her ego.

If she wanted to prove she’d won the game though, she would need to surprise him good and proper. Her thoughts briefly flickered to his mares – where were they? She wondered whether they had all been stolen from him in a fight, as his once perfect sooty coat bore the marks of a fight.

Waiting for the opportunity to emerge victorious, Illoura examined the colt further. He had filled out, and he too was no longer a colt, but a stallion. He was looking quite attractive actually. Not like some of those boring chestnuts and bays. Illoura well and truly stuck her nose up at those – they would never be worthy to even think of owning a creamy filly such as herself. No stallion would ever truly own her – for when was a Silver ever possessed by anything but the throbbing beat of the wind?

Still, there was an annoyance that was creeping into her mindset a little more every day. Before coming here, she’d run into a particularly vile chestnut mare by Dead Horse Creek. The mare herself was nothing special – with a huge head and a short neck and the dullest looking coat Illoura had ever set her eyes on – but at her side had been the most delicate of foals, snow white and tiny, with a pattern of pink snowflakes about her ears. It was beyond Illoura’s comprehension that a mare who was so blatantly unattractive could produce something so lovely. And then the mare had the cheek to look down her nose at her – Her! A Silver! – as she had no foal by her side. As if a mares beauty was no longer measured by her appearance but by the foals she produced after a certain age.

Illoura of course had given the older mare a mouthful and received one in return, and in the end had ended up flouncing off with her tail held high knowing that she was indeed more beautiful than the tiny foal. But she could not shake the image of that tiny creature from her mind, convinced that she would produce something ten times more fantastic than the ugly chestnut. A hundred times more fantastic. She was a Silver Brumby – one of the most beautiful in the High Country! How could some mangy old mare even think of overlooking this just because she did not have a foal.

Well, she’d show that mare. She would show the whole High Country! No mare would produce foals any more beautiful than she!

Her gaze fell on Thalera again, who had begun to graze. His attention was otherwise engaged: this was good. It made the perfect situation for her to pounce. Slipping out of the cover of the trees without a sound, she crept forwards like a hunter stalking its prey, relying on the fact that she did not think Thalera would be observant enough to notice any movement behind him. Stretching her neck out, she tugged at his sooty tail playfully before whinnying loudly to announce her presence – as if it wasn’t announced already. Dancing away joyfully, she pirouetted in the sunshine, fully aware of how it made her coat and mane shine. In fact, she was doing it deliberately. Because there was nothing more fun than having handsome stallions fawn over her like lovesick colts.

[Tiggs]

Thalera was wholly distracted by the thought of foals. Bindaree of course would bring him something to be proud of – there was no way their combined blood could make a foal anything short of beautiful – but Willunga was a constant worry. She might lavish him with all the attention he was worthy of, but that would never make her more beautiful. He could only assume that his handsomeness would overcome her blandness to make a foal worthy of his bloodline.

A sharp tug on his tail brought him back to reality fast, and he squealed and flicked the sooty hair against his rump. How dare a fly bite his tail! He swung his head round and saw not a fly, but a mirage. His ire faded instantly, and he watched dumbfounded as she called to him, then spun about and pranced. He could only stare for a moment, and his senses only returned when she strayed too far in her little dance.

The sooty stallion swung about and loped after her. He drew a circle around her, head dropping and tossing alternately. Was it really her? Could this be another ghost? Surreptitiously, he stood between her and the trees, planning on using the natural tongue of land in the fork of the river to trap her. He nickered and came closer, reaching his pink and sooty muzzle out to her.

He was darker than she had last seen him too, and his face was almost black with sooty hairs where his blaze and mane were a stark white. His summer coat was dappled golden and brown and his haunches were dark brown with soot and sweat. Up close, his withers were clearly marked with bites, some extending up his neck, and when he picked up his stockinged legs, a pink scar could be seen on his knee. Thalera was not too fond of the scars. They reminded him of his failure, but Illoura did not need to know that.

Thalera thought he was being calm and charming, but there was a hint of desperation about the way his hide quivered, and the way his nostrils flared as he strained to touch her. She was his dream mare. For her to come to him, be must have fallen asleep! Oh how he would love to have her all to himself. After chasing her for so long, he deserved her.

[Ehetere]

How Illoura laughed as she watched the sooty Thalera completely speechless and dumbfounded by her sudden appearance. His reaction was thoroughly satisfying, and her ego swelled to mammoth proportions. She pranced a little more, but it wasn’t long before he regained his senses and came loping over.

She did not approve much of the way he was trying to herd her along, so that she might not escape. But for the moment she had no intentions of escaping anyway, so she humored him. Maybe she’d shock him enough by not dancing away when he offered out his nose to her, and she sniffed it in a friendly manner rather than darting away as she might have been expected.

Pulling back a little, she stopped to examine him closer. Her first observations had been true – he had grown handsomer since she had seen him last, his coat even darker in places than it had been before. He had also acquired a whole new set of scars which marred his otherwise smooth coat, and she looked upon them with a curiosity.

“It has been a great many seasons since we saw each other last Thalera,” she said, choosing to speak first, “What adventures have befallen you?”

The entire experience was likely to be a real boost to her ego – the way he quivered at her simple touch, the way he looked at her – it was really some of the medicine she’d dearly needed to heal her confused mind. Of course she was still as beautiful as ever, still lithe and swift and free. She was Silver – brumbies known to stay beautiful from birth to the day they die. Always desired, always hunted, the most sought after horses in the whole of the High Country. How could she have ever convinced herself otherwise?

[Tiggs]

Oh, and her touch was a dream! He gave a deep involuntary whicker, pushing his dark muzzle against her pale one. This had to be a trick, a ruse, something that was not the truth. Oh he didn’t care. He stepped after her, lipping at her creamy cheek. “Too many seasons.” He agreed with a nod and throaty voice. “I searched for you, and now you have found me.” He could not get enough of brushing her muzzle with his. With his usual confidence, he shifted around to rest his heated flank on hers.

“I have fought many stallions,” an exaggeration, only one of those fights he had one, “and I have mares, though none as wonderful as you. Like a sunrise over the mountains, you blind me with your beauty.” He snuffled under her mane, reversing a little to nibble her withers and spine. His other mares forgotten, he would so easily leave them so that he would not lose Illoura again. She was a prize like no other.

She shuffled beside him, and he had to keep moving to stay close. It was a dance, a very frustrating and alluring dance. Snorting, Thalera tried hooking his chin over her back. Her lashing tail flicked his rump, and he bumped his golden and black dappled rump against hers. He gave her shoulder a nip, and squealed in reply to her protest.

This dance was ridiculous, but oddly exciting. Snorting again, he sidestepped into her, trying to lead the dance rather than follow it. He pushed her withers with his nose, keeping his teeth close to her crown to nip her again if she tried to bolt and lead him on yet another merry dance. Thalera had been chasing Illoura for far too long to let her escape him now.

[Ehetere]

Ahh yes. Illoura could easily slip into the illusion that she was once again the most desirable filly here, her looks as pure as the day she had been two and running along the high Ramsheads with a determined bay stallion on her heels only to vanish right from under his hooves into nothingness on a hidden ledge below a cliff. She was not an aging mare, but something that stallions young and old should all dream of possessing.

She smirked knowingly when Thalera said he had been searching for her – this she knew, and he never would have succeeded had she not shown herself to him today. She was still mysterious, untouchable to those whom she had no wish of knowing.

She calmly noted his shifting position – she had no intention of leaving else this would have been her cue to canter away and leave the handsome sooty palomino alone once more. She was mildly impressed by his stories of fights – he could not be lying with such battle marks – but he did not state whether he was the victor in these tussles. His compliments did not go unnoticed either, and she smugly wondered whether he had abandoned his other mares to try and find her once more. She of course was worth more than all of them combined, so it was understandable.

His advances were becoming more insistent, and Illoura in typical fashion would not surrender so easily, even if she intended to in the long run. She sneakily continued to shuffle and shift, just to make things more difficult, more frustrating. The entire thing was one giant ego trip, and she wanted to prolong it for as long as possible.

She could tell she was succeeding ridiculously well in getting the attention she wanted. Thalera’s attempts to get around her were obvious, and his audible protests were like music to her ears. His nip was not appreciated however, and she squealed angrily, laying back her ears warning him not to try it again. She was here by her own good grace, and would leave if he wanted to try and dominate her.

She did stop then, throwing a teasing glance over her shoulder only to side step as he tried to move over her. She was playing, obviously so, and what fun she was having. Thalera was impatient, and clearly terrified she would leave, but surely he would realize from her behavior already she did not mean to do so – she was still here wasn’t she? Once the sooty quieted and patiently waited a little then she would let him get what he wanted.

[Tiggs]

Thalera could only grow more impatient, and he pushed with his shoulder and cajoled with softer nips and squeals. She was teasing him, dancing to one beat then another. He tossed his blazed head and trumpeted a loud call. Illoura just spun her rump away and shushed him. Thalera squealed and reached out his muzzle to bump hers.

“You tease me! How am I to control myself if you lead me on this dance and then change the tune? Your beauty consumes me! I cannot resist you. You drive me wild.” He lipped her muzzle, nosed her cheek, crept forward with slow steps until he could nuzzle her neck again. Such a smooth creamy pelt, such glistening beauty.

Thalera nickered throatily at her encouraging reaction, came forward a little more and nibbled at her withers. He groomed her back, his sooty and flaxen tail lashing still, his impatience held at bay. This time she didn’t skip away, and Thalera nuzzled her flank, lavishing her in the affection that she deserved. She was his, really his. Together they would be the most handsome pair in the High Country.

[Ehetere]

Illoura laughed lightly as Thalera continued to nudge and hustle her around, but as ever she was the surer footed and was one step ahead, always one step ahead. Her joy was plain for all to behold, her pride swelling by the second. Driving stallions mad was her specialty, and Thalera was her most receptive victim yet. Well, perhaps that was because he was the only one who had gotten this close to her, but that mattered little.

Thalera’s praise certainly did not fall on deaf ears – far from it. Illoura soaked it up like a thirsty shrub guzzles water in the wet season. She was all but audibly preening – arching her neck so her silvery mane would cascade down and swishing her tail about flirtatiously. Thalera’s touch was gentle, but she could tell his moves were anxious, frantic, desperate. Unable to resist, she ran her own muzzle along the length of his neck, slowly and deliberately.

He began grooming her, and it was very nice to have another horse who could reach the harder to get spots more comfortably. Visibly relaxing, she let out a deep sigh of contentment. Her games would have to end soon, but she was determined to seep as much self pleasure of out the situation as possible.

“See, was that so hard?” she cooed, raising her handsome face so she could whisper seductively in the sooty’s ear. She wouldn’t move away this time, and Thalera could finally have what he wanted, even if watching him so worked up made her want to laugh for hours in both amusement and joys that she, Illoura, was indeed the most beautiful mare in the whole of the High Country.

[Tiggs]

Thalera gave a squeal and tossed up his head, nostrils flared and deeply red inside. Did she have to tease him so? He could only resist for so long before his patience waned and he became grumpy again. Luckily he had apparently held out long enough, because she finally stayed still under his touch, accepted his affection with grace. He crooned and pressed his nose to hers, enjoying the feel of them together before he moved down her flank.

He set off in a tight trot, prancing around her with crest arched, head bobbing and tail raised high so the sooty strands cascaded around his rump. She was finally his, and pride was plain to see in every line of his body. He nickered, slowed and came to stand beside her. He rested his sooty and white head on her back, and lavished her with more affection and finally enjoying the privileges of a stallion who could own such a mare. She was his!

Later, while they grazed, Thalera stood with his flank resting on hers, pulling up hungry mouthfuls of grass with pink lips. You didn’t stay this handsome by not eating more than your fair share! He vaguely recalled his other mares should return soon, but he was enjoying Illoura’s company far too much. She was so lovely, a delicate flower, a beautiful silver filly.

He would occasionally reach over to nuzzle her, never straying far from her. The evening wore on, and Thalera hustled Illoura into the trees where he promptly fell asleep. The next morning, his mares were back, and Illoura was gone. Furious calls trumpeted from the stallion, but only one set of track led away. Illoura had left him. Left him? He was vulgar and snappy for days, herding his mares and new foals around mercilessly but there was no sign of Illoura.

The ghost had gone, taking his dreams with her.