You Give me fever [O]

[Rivre]

Winter was impassable; it had stayed the high-country far less this new year than it had last, and yet still the melting snows caused disruption to the wild herds. The sun shone brilliantly, in contrast to the flecking of snow that capped some of the snowgrass stems, blinding all that dared to look closer than a glance and yet Penala dared. He blinked once or twice, the pattern of the grass still emblazoned under the lids of his eyes and he snorted in surprise. He was on his way the bogong, of all places to be going; but something in his hooves told him that the number of horses gathered there would be peaceful enough to let him graze - he did not seek to steal anything today.

A lot of the young stallions his age would be gallivanting off by now, seeking their own herds of beautiful mares, but he really saw no point in it - when the right mare with the right attitude towards life came along, he would happily fight for her. Besides, you never really knew when that might happen, it could be why his hooves were pointed in this direction after-all! Shaking away the thought the dark grullo trotted onwards, suddenly aware of how exposed he was, placed out in the open with only a pod plant for cover, mountain of black strands spilling out over muscled neck. He was built for distance and strength, not speed, but his frame was light non-the-less, mirroring his age. At only three, he could hardly be expected to have fulled-out already.

As he carried onwards, his thoughts drifted to that of his herd - so far south that it seemed like a lifetime ago he had left them - but it had only been a matter of days. It was unlike colts to run with each other after they reached three, and just as expected his own band had broken up on the dot, but still he missed the company of them. Lobes pricked and noble head raised a little as a large herd of brumbies came into his line of sight - a range of mares with foals at foot and a battle-scared roan stallion keeping watch. He stopped for a moment, and slowly dipped his head to the mature horse, stepping to one side before continuing, it was only right to be polite, if he was to share this place for a while. He only hoped the older brumby would not see him as a threat to his young - after all he was lithe in comparison, why should he be afraid of a youngun' such as himself?

Maybe the spring grass was getting into the hooves of the stallions already? He snorted in amusement, admiring the old pale trunks of the snowgums as he wove his way into them, branches of sticky sap dragging along his grullo hide and leaving itchy trails. The ground was soft, if even a little damp after all that snowfall, but it was nice to have the wetness after such a heated day - how queer the weather was here! He peered through the bare branches, soon to be green again, and upon hearing no warning from the gang gangs, stepped back out into the sunlight. A few horses grazed some distance away, but otherwise it was quiet, and Penala dropped his head to crop a few mouthfuls of the sweet heather and snowgrass; it didn't take long for the dryness of his coat to become unbearable, and so he dropped to his knees for a roll. The dew and muggy earth washed the dust and clog easily from his coat, leaving him gleaming fresh with only a few grass stains when he finally came to stand once more. If only there was a creek to drink from... Oh well, he would sustain himself on the damp grass and go seek something to drink a little later; the day was too nice to waste.

OOC; open to mares and fillies as well any young stallions willing to challenge Penala over mares/fillies xD Repetitive much?

[Tiggs]

From the depths of the red roan’s herd came a squeal, and a bay yearling came cantering up the hill. The colt was leggy but showing signs of maturing to be a robust stallion. Though Penala was a stallion, it seemed to colt had taken it upon himself to challenge the presence of the dun male. The colts name was Lowan, and his coat was a bright bay with a white sock on both right legs.

There was a slight delay, and then another colt detached himself from the edge of the herd and came loping more ponderously up the hill. Lowan reached the grullo with much time to spare and immediately reared and challenged the stallion with a shrill whinny. He bucked and pranced, tossing his head and wasting far too much energy. In a few years he might be a threat to Penala, but for now he was about as threatening as a horsefly.

The second colt reached them. This one had a kind face with a tapering off-centre star, brown head, legs, mane and tail with a roaned body. He better reflected the temperament of the stallion Penala had offered his respect to, and rather than challenge the dun, he nickered in greeting before loping over to the bay yearling. He gave the exuberant yearling a shove, and Lowan was pushed off balance. The roan two-year-old was much bigger and stockier, and had a strength that was clumbsy.

Lowan squealed and pinned his ears at his brother but calmed down enough to stand still. The older colt nodded and turned to Penala, “Sorry about my brother, he’ll fight anything, even if it’s not good for him.” He chuckled and bobbed his head to the grullo stallion. “My father sends his greetings, and appreciates you keeping your distance. I am Thackory, son of Nandalie. You are welcome to graze with us, if you like?” The two-year-old was earnest and friendly, and seemed genuinely pleased to see a new face.

[Rivre]

It seemed his peace was destined to be shattered, just as he dropped his head to graze again, a bay colt came cavorting into his sights, rearing as he offered his challenge. Penala merely looked up from under his forelock, ears flickering forwards in interest, dark brown eyes laughing. Even though the first enterance had startled him, it took another larger roan to cause his head to raise, the pair bickering. It seemed the bigger was the wiser in this case, and Penala dipped his head gratefully, the colt squealed in protest at being shoved away, but calmed down enough to glare at his sibling.
"Thankyou, it would not bode well for me to fight you, especially within your fathers hearing." His chuckle was deeper than the young roan coloured horse, but it held the same friendless, gaze slipping to the irritated look on the other's face.

"Again, thankyou - I should like to graze a while, and if it is your fathers wish would accompany you back to his herd and spend some time there." It was odd to feel so at ease around another brumby, only a year or so younger than himself, but the grullo sensed he would come to like this colt far more than he liked some stallions that had come of age, "I am Penala, named for a warrior, it is good to meet you Thackory." The stallions lobes flickering, he adjusted his stance so that it was more casual, having tensed upon their arrival. Did the two of them realize that they would be a match against him if they fought together? No, it was a stupid thought, the roan had a face much too kind for treachery and the leggy bay seemed to rush in like a bulldozer when faced with confrontation. Shaking out blackened mane, Penala thought back to his years as a youngster, and the thought brought a smile to his eyes. These two would cause him no harm.

[Tiggs]

Thackory smiled, “Likewise.” He glanced to Lowan and coughed expectantly.

The yearling bay grumbled something that sounded like hello and sulked off back to the bulk of the herd. Thackory shook his head and looked back to Penala apologetically. “And that was Lowan. I think maybe we should stay up here. Any other time of year my father would welcome you, but since it’s spring…” He trailed off and gave a wan smile. His father had had much trouble with colts and younger stallions recently, so the battle-scarred roan was wary of newcomers.

“So you travel alone?” Asked the dark brown roan. At two-years-old, he should be leaving his herd soon. With the coming of spring, it was expected but Nandalie had not seen fit to drive him away just yet. Thackory was a well behaved son, and caused his father no trouble. The colt wondered if Penala might be scouting the larger herds for daughters to lure away. A few of his sisters were certainly old enough, but being a protective older brother, he would have to judge Penala’s character a little more before he invited him to meet them.

[Rivre]

Penala watched as Lowan ambled off at a sulking pace, dejected after his loss, acknowledging the roan with another dip of the head. It would have been unwise indeed to lead him back to the older stallions herd, you could never quite anticipate what sort of welcome you would receive and especially at this time of the year. "Hm, you're wise Thackory to doubt a stallion whom may cause harm to your herd, but I am no such stallion." After a moment of pondering, he dropped his head to crop once more at the sweet grass, content for a while to pass the time in silence. It was the younger who spoke first, and Penala raised his head politely to reply to his question, "Me? Yes, I travel out of company now. Although! For the past year or so I ran with a herd of colts and stallions to the south," he nickered, eyes glazing as he thought back to the far away home he had chosen to leave, "We parted ways this spring, and since that time I have wondered alone. What of you? Do you plan to part ways with your sire soon?"

It was not the way of colts or stallions to remain friends, or even to run together as they grew older and felt the need to gather a herd of their own. Penala had, had to leave those whom he had thoguht he shared a bond with, but that pain was ebbing, and left a quiet but sure determination in it's place. Thackory would make a good stallion - he didn't think ahead too much, but he also assessed the situation before diving in to challenge another. Lowan, on the other-hand, he could see becoming a nuiscance to his father quite quickly. Penala had traveled without his dam for almost two years now, and still he sought no fillies, no mares - happy to amble along at any old pace. He had a certain, vital, strength to him that could not be placed easily, and he was of an even or a good temprement he liked to think - but modesty gets the better of all of us.

Again, he found his mouth returning to grazing, his so long empty stomach feeling bloated after having eaten so much already. "How was the winter for you? This year seems to have faired better, but a lot of the horses who moved to the foot-hills suffered from hunger." It was true, Penala had met some of them returning to spring grazing grounds, albeit, he had fought one of them too - but he had been scrawny, malnurished, as had his few mares.

[Tiggs]

Thackory gave a nod, “I thought about leaving, but nothing has tempted me to leave my brothers and sisters. Lowan is enough trouble to handle, and my father has enough to worry about without chasing after his rebellious children.” The stocky colt flicked his ears about and looked fondly back to the herd. “I would miss them if I left, and they are too young to come with me.” He explained, dropping his head to pull up a few mouthfuls.

There was a comfortable silence while the pair ate before Penala spoke again. This time the question was a little harder for the colt to answer. He shook his head sadly and gave a sigh. “We lost my mother to the cold this winter. She was heavy with foal too. My father still mourns her.” As a two-year-old, Thackory had been no longer dependant on his mother but her loss still haunted him, and he looked off into the wistful distance.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, apologising for his silence, “I think you might like to meet my sisters, but they will probably want you to play with them. They are full of energy, but you might keep up with them better than me.”

[Corowa]

Warriwillah bounded lightly up the snowgrass slope, pausing on a rough outcrop of granite to dance for a moment in the sunlight. Her bay coat gleaming, the two-year-old filly sprang up after the colts, threading her way through the wide-spaced snowgums until finally she reached the line of the ridge, where the bush merged with snowgrass.

Her nostrils quivered, and she stood a moment, fascinated by the sight of the grey-coloured stallion. The filly stretched out her nose to his, and blew loudly through her nostrils. Warriwillah felt excitement throbbing in her blood, and she longed to race headlong down the grassy slope, to scatter the mares and young horses, and lead them all on a wild, rough chase through the High Country.

“I am Warriwillah, daughter of Corowa,” she said proudly. Something stirred in her, something she could only half-understand, but which filled her with a trembling sort of longing. She found herself breathless, as if she had truly gone and raced the wind itself, for her hide prickled and her heart pounded in her chest. No longer able to contain herself, the filly backed up with a squeal, but still she stood and watched the young stallion, a confused expression in her eyes.

A cold shiver ran through her, and with a snort, Warriwillah swung around and reached over to give Thackory a playful nip. She was fond of the huge bay colt, but he possessed none of her swiftness, and it had not taken her long to catch him. “You are as slow and clumsy as a wombat!” she told him with a laughing whinny. “The stupidest of stockmen could have tracked up through here, and then you would be stuck with a rope around your neck before you could gather yourself and run!”

[Rivre]

Penala watched the young colt with interest, he seemed to be very attached to his herd and he wondered as to how he would be leaving it. Would he be driven away, or leave of his own accord? His next question seemed to have cause much discomfort to his friend, and he started at the news of his mothers death, guilt stirring in his belly so that he had to stop eating.
"Sorry, that was insensitive of me," he nickered, ears flickering back uncomfortably, "Send my grievances to your father."
After a few moment of the awkward silence, the bush was disturbed again by young life - and a curious bay filly came cajoling towards them, causing lobes to push forwards once more and him to forget the terrible words spoken on such a young heart. Her frame was nimble, the defined plains of her face intelligent, her gait springy and full of the springs excitement - she was a queer sight, but still pleasing to behold, maybe more so.

Bay nose extended to touch his own, and he quivered at the meet, blowing back into her nostrils as she had his. Warriwillah, it was a beautiful name. "And I am Penala," he nickered, ears pushing forwards still more, "I graze here with your brother." He turned his head back to the odd roan, having almost forgotten he was watching, eyes still gleaming with amusement as the flighty filly tore away squealing. "You have quite a sister" he chuckled, shaking his head at her jibes. "Actually, I think your brother did quite well - I did not hear him approach me so no stock-men should have." His tones were casual, but all the while he was thinking - wondering as to why he should meet this filly, why Thackory might want him to. "If you think that you are so swift, perhaps you should race me?" he queried, knowing full well that although he was not built for speed, he could probably keep up with her considering his size. "Perhaps we should all race? After-all, it is a hot day, and a creek is near-by where we can drink after."

He could only guess at the age of this new filly, a two year old, like her sibling, two years younger than himself. If what Thackory desired was for him to take his sister, would it be right to? She was so young, and so full of life - he would not want to be the one to dampen that for her. But she was so curious also, so powerful and so fast - proud too. "Come on! Come!" He called, rising in a half rear, neck arched and hooves flailing in the air with powerful strokes, before he pivoted on his heel and was off like a whirlwind. He did not care for silence, but he kept his head cool despite the adrenaline that rushed through his veins, steering well clear of the red roan's herd, instead heading downwards. He could feel what he thought to be Warriwillah, speeding along behind of him, and perhaps even Thackory had joined in, but for all the grass in the world he could not make out so many complicated hoof beats. Throwing in a playful buck, he slowed a little so that he could run beside the bay filly, nose stretched, blowing against the tide of air that surged into him through dilated nostrils. He had not done something as reckless as this for a long while now, how fun!

[Tiggs]

Thackory gave a solemn nod. He knew the stallion had meant no offence by it; it was just an unfortunate coincidence that the winter had affected him personally. Thankfully Warriwillah arrived to break the uneasy silence, and the brown colt nickered in greeting to his sister. “You say such nice things, sister.” He replied, smiling and returning her nip with a nudge on her slender shoulder.

He was quite aware that his bumbling nature might get him into trouble, and his ponderous stride would never win him any races, but he was happy to live life at his own pace. Warriwillah could not go fast enough. She had to race the wind! She seemed a little less than confident with the dun stallion though, which was a marked difference in her usual temperament.

The colt nosed her reassuringly. Penala seemed like a descent stallion, respectful and willing to amuse his athletic sister which in Thackory’s mind was a commendable effort. “You go on ahead; I’ll meet you at the creek.” He said, encouraging the fast pair to enjoy themselves while he loped along behind.

[Corowa]

Warriwillah propped and shied, when the stallion went up on his hind legs. She was full of high-spirits, all the joy that was living, and she let out a playful buck as she sprang away after him. At a faster pace than she might have dared before, Warriwillah hurtled down the long snowgrass slope. She was swift and sure, this daughter of Corowa, the wise grey brumby mare.

Warriwillah swung easily about a great slab of granite. The snowgrass was springy underfoot, and the bay filly flattened into a gallop. This was a rough chase, and her breath was sobbing in her chest, her legs stretching to their fullest. Warriwillah was tiring with the tremendous effort to catch the stallion, and her bay coat was soaked through with sweat.

Then suddenly, Penala was galloping shoulder to shoulder with her, and the filly felt herself quivering with the queerest of feelings, the blood singing in her veins when their coats touched. Warriwillah, ears flat and nostrils wide, reached over and nipped at his flank. At that same instant, a mare called from somewhere further east, towards the snowgrass flats of the Bogong. The bay filly stopped in her tracks and let out a ringing answer. It was Corowa, calling her foolish daughter back, and Warriwillah stood for a moment, one forefoot raised and her fine-chiselled head held high.