The Past Resurfaces [O/R]

[Rivre]

ooc; Mares only please.

Ilunoa could remember the first summer she had ever lived through - the wayward yearling filly- well near enough the first one. It had been much like this one really, wilting the plants and snowgrass under-hoof, but still bursting with young life and the pent-up testosterone of young stallions. It had been in the south that she had grown, and to the south she returned now, down by Tin Mine creek, headed back towards where she first laid eyes on her beloved mate, on her creamy.

The gang gangs chatter could be heard, faint on the breeze, the grazing here fresher after a recent rain-fall, and springy to the touch; the golden chestnut mare flitted easily through the snowgums, only the ragged appearance of her hide telling of her age, maybe even a little in her blowing - but otherwise undetectable. Lobes flickered, listening, but not with any real intent, for she had passed the age of caring who spotted her. She was a lone-wolf, a plain old mare who was most probably barren now, who would want anything to do with her?

She could hear the creek tumbling along beside where she walked now, teeming with liquid droplets, and she turned so that she could escape the clutches of the gum branches, instead ambling down the bank so that she could drink, washing the dry scrub from her lips. It had been some years now, since she had lost Kurnurr to the wild Southern lands, but still there was a gaping hole inside of her, even though life went on and foals had been born - the last of which wasn't even his - Mering. That cruel grulla stallion who had captured her away on the Pilot, caught her and beaten her; that was not a life she wanted to remember - not a life she wanted to be reminded of in a foal, in a stallion now who looked so much like him.

That had been her reason to leave, the fact that Mering was only young, and although he was a far better horse than his father, she did not want to wait to find out if that would change. She did not wish that on other mares and foals. Shuddering at the thought, she backed away from the winding creek and carried on at a brisk trot, this time making slightly to the left and towards where her herd had used to hold a bimble. She did not know how long she had left in this world, but something had called her south again, and with that call there came a great despair. Oh, how she had loved Kurnurr!