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Post by Rivre on Jun 12, 2010 7:20:33 GMT
This filly was built for speed of the chase, nimbly dodging granite slabs that he had time only to notice as he leaped the great expanse; her hide glossed in sweat, and his beginning to sheen also. After a while of their hides having touched, a feeling like fire spreading through his limbs so that he may go faster and faster and faster until he was flying, Warriwillah nipped at his flank, and he shied in surprise at the guesture. Fillies, how queer they were. It did not take him long to return to her, having stood for only a second after her passing, loping along at a soft canter, a few feet or so behind her disappearing form.
From somewhere deep within the red roan's herd, a mare called her foolish daughter away, and both the racing horses propped to a standstill. Could that be Corowa, dam to this bay filly? Shaking his fine head, he walked proudly to stand beside her, hooves picking up high to avoid the rubble and shaly granite tor scattered about the snowgrass ridge; when he stood close, ears pricked - he too threw up his greying head to seek out from whecne the call had come. If that was this filly's mother, would she heed her call? He dearly hoped not, as her temprament suited him well and she was a pretty little thing. "Come, let us drink at the creek and find your brother before you answer," he nickered softly, tugging playfully on the threads of her mane, before turning to trot briskly across the decline, tail flagging and fissure turned slightly to welcome Warriwillah to his side if she wished.
A line of snowgums greeted the heather and granite boulders, candlebark and ash few and far between, but all pale barks rippling in the soft breeze that cooled the sweat of his hide. A whip bird called from some distance away, the gang gang's chatter ceasing as they were startled into flight and even Penala snorted in surprise at the uncannily similar sound. The track was open, mainly dry track with a few patches of springy snowgrass - but he was no creamy, he would walk without haste and without fear, and so he ambled along at his own pace, always listening to see who followed him. It did not take him long to located to creek for which he had been searching, and he turned upwards slightly so that their paths may cross, hearing from some distance away the trickle of waters over rock.
He could hear something else also, moving in the bush and scrub, but he guessed that it was Thackory, and let out a grand nicker of welcome as he pranced into view, black and maroon dipped mane cresting the rise of his neck and fluttering gently in the breeze. He hoped that he appeared handsome to the pretty bay, but he doubted it in himself, so whether or not she could see it was an entirely different matter. "It seems you beat us to it," he chuckled, seeking red roan hide between the whipy branches of the snowgums.
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Post by Tiggs on Jun 18, 2010 8:24:51 GMT
While the two raced and played, Thackory made his sedentary way to the creek. His jog was slow, and he would stop to walk across the more rocky parts or to weave between trees. Nonetheless, when he reached the creek the other two were just arriving. He chuckled and stepped out of the cover that hid him. “I only beat you since your race took you on such a roundabout trip.” The dark chestnut roan looked to the filly.
“Did I hear Corowa? Should I take you back in case she worries?” He asked his sister, moving over to touch his broad muzzle to her delicate cheek. The colt glanced to Penala. “You seemed to have accomplished the impossible. I have never seen her so tired. I think you have met your match, sister.” Thackory chuckled and checked her over. She seemed fine but for the heaving sides and sweat-soaked pelt.
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Post by Corowa on Jun 18, 2010 22:32:49 GMT
Warriwillah stood for a moment, torn with the need to return to Corowa, and the longing to follow this exciting young stallion. Penala nibbled on her mane, but the filly was only half-aware of the stallion there beside her. It was only when he began to move slowly forwards, that Warriwillah followed. She walked proudly behind him, for once placing each hoof with care, remembering Corowa’s wisdom, though the mare had never been able to teach the bay filly any sense as she had with Karuah.
There through a whippy stand of snowgum saplings and rough scrub, Warriwillah could see something moving through the bush. The filly felt a cold shiver of dread run through every part of her, and she was filled with the sudden urge to find the other mares, for the hushed stillness of the bush made her uneasy. Her skin prickled and there was the uncomfortable feeling of unseen eyes watching the two young brumbies.
At that moment, Thackory stepped out from the snowgums, and the filly whinnied at the sight of the big bay colt. She heard Penala call, though it was not for her to answer. She moved forwards to rub noses with the bay colt, then she returned to Penala, feeling a strange thrilling stir in her blood, for there was some infinite attraction about the stallion that called longingly to her.
“It is the way of the bush for mares to forget their foals, and foals to forget their mothers,” Warriwillah snorted. “Besides, I know where to find the other mares. I know the country of the Bogong better than even Thowra did himself,” she boasted, and she reached over to give Thackory a swift nip. The wind moved through the snowgums, but to Warriwillah it spoke of nothing, and the filly wondered if one day she might be wise enough to know all that it told.
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Post by Rivre on Jun 19, 2010 6:04:24 GMT
Penala felt a warm wind stir the sweated cloak of his hide, itching to roll again on the lush spring grass - miniscule rays of sunlight penetrating the leafy canopy and falling to dark grullo hide, then bay and red chestnut. For a moment the bush seemed to have stilled, and then Warriwillah spoke, her tones hauty with pride and he smiled inwardly, wondering what her words did in fact mean. "I suspect my mother has forgotten me now, but I will never forget her," he mused, throwing up his broad and noble head, black singed mane rippling, "She was quite a character, as are you" he nickered, gaze falling to the bay filly with underlying affection. He really did like her.
Suddenly, and without reason, Penala wished that Thackory would leave, let them gallop about unknown together; it was not that he disliked the colt, in fact he hoped he would meet him again, and soon, but today was a day for fillies to become mares, for stallions to race with pride to have a beautiful horse running with him. For a moment he stood still, then once again he swung around, looking over his shoulder and back to brother and sister, gaze serious for once, "Come Warriwilah, we will race the winds together, over the Brindle and the Ramshead - come away with me," he called gently, eyes longing her to follow, not to leave him without company again. Of course, he would leave her be if she did not wish to come, effectively having ruined their friendship and his with Thackory perhaps. Thinking of the chestnut roan, he turned his gaze to him with little trouble, eyes thoughtful, "I will take good care of your sister if she wishes to leave with me - we will send a call to Corowa together."
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Post by Tiggs on Jun 23, 2010 18:18:24 GMT
Thackory looked between the two and smiled knowingly. “Warri, if this is what you want then I hope you will be happy. You’ll certainly have a more worthy racing companion.” He fixed Penala with a heavy gaze. He spoke no words, but he conveyed his love for his sister in those gentle eyes, and if were to ever hear tales of Warriwillah that were not perfectly wonderful, Penala would find Thackory could be doggedly persistent when he had his mind set on something.
Warri was a free spirit, and the way she tilted her head to the passing breeze spoke of her longing to join it, to run and race across the High Country. If Penala could keep up with her, then Thackory was grateful that someone would be there to keep her out of trouble.
“I’m sure Corowa would be glad for the peace and quiet.” He teased, flicking his sister with his dark tail as he turned. “So Warriwillah, should I tell Corowa where you have gotten to?” He asked, looking over his broad shoulder at his lithe and swift bay sister. Today was indeed a day for fillies to become mares, and Thackory wondered what he was going to do with his future. Perhaps he should take a leaf from Warri’s tree and make his own way in the High Country. His brothers and sisters would be fine without him, he was sure.
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Post by Corowa on Jun 26, 2010 10:06:14 GMT
“I will miss you brother,” Warriwillah sighed, and she shyly nuzzled his shoulder. Even now, she could see the fine stallion he would become, strong and wise as his sire before him. Warriwillah turned then, and gently bumped Penala with her nose, reminding the stallion that she was here and she was his. “You do not possess me yet O stupid one,” she said with a snort. “I will return to Corowa and then go with you,” she went on, feeling a sudden longing for the reassurance of the old mare.
There was a hushed silence, and then a sound came from somewhere nearby. Warriwillah stilled at once, backing up hastily until she stood behind Penala, seeking comfort from the stallion. Was there something there, moving through the fringe of snowgums? The filly could feel the sweat break out behind her ears, and she strained her eyes to pick out any signs of movement through the silver-grey boughs and leathery leaves. Yet there was nothing, only the distant call of the kurrawong, as if it laughed at the foolishness of the young brumby.
The grey mare stepped lightly from the snowgums. Corowa was an old mare, wise to the ways of the bush. She had known what it was to feel her blood pulse with the beat of the High Country itself, would surely even in death hear its call. Warriwillah was restless as the wild wind that blew from the south. Corowa could not hold her, and the mare wondered if this stallion ever truly would.
She let out a soft whinny, and the bay filly slowly advanced, as if she had awoken from some half-remembered dream. Something passed between the two brumbies as they stood with noses touching, some sense of understanding and of a promise gone unspoken. Corowa stood for a moment with head upflung and nostrils quivering, and then she turned to the young stallion. “Watch over her stallion,” she told him. “For I will surely hear of it from the kurrawongs, and even for all your cunning, you could never hide the truth of it from those who see all and know all.”
It was then that the grey mare faded back into the bush. Warriwillah leapt after her with a queer cry of loss. Yet her tracks vanished, and there was no sound to tell her where Corowa had gone. For a moment, the filly wondered if it had been a dream, but the smell of her lingered, and Warriwillah could feel herself tingling, remembering what had passed. Something told her, she was no longer the pliable filly that had led the colts on so many gay dances through the snowgums, but a young mare, claiming this stallion as her mate.
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Post by Rivre on Jun 27, 2010 6:43:50 GMT
Greyed head dipped to the roan colt, acknowledging the seriousness of his gaze and the weight of responsibility that came with it. "You do not own me yet O stupid one," bumping her nose in return, he chuckled again, eyes dancing with the light of exuberance, "No I do not, though perhaps I shall soon" Penala nickered softly, moving muzzle to snuff cheek with a quiet snort.
All of a sudden electricity cracked like the whip-bird's call over the gathered brumbies. Hide prickled, lobes flickering back uneasily as Wariwillah moved to stand behind him, all the strength of his self promised in the heavy glance he gave Thackory. If something hostile came from within those snowgums, he too would have the right to protect. Whip-branches creaked almost silently, the wattle stem and leaf bowing as old grey mare came high-stepping from the bush, breathing silence. Pinned ears rotated, tail swishing to bat at the heat surrounding his statuesque self, so this was Corowa? Bay hide caught his gaze and Penala watched with curiosity as Warri slid over the ground towards her dam, surprised also by the cunning and wit of the elder grey.
It did not seem long before the queer mare's tones stole the air around of them, rough as bark and yet sweet as the snowgrass, wise as the ancient outback too. "The Currawong does indeed see and hear all, and those he chooses to speak with of what has passed, are wiser still" grullo hide prickled once more, but this time with pride, tail flagging, his stance otherwise remaining the same. Corowa did not seem to want to waste the wisdom of her own mind, and with a last look at her growing filly, melted away into the bush. For a moment loneliness seemed to grip her, and desperate call followed her retreating mother - but Penala was wise enough now to know she would find no trace of her. Pacing up behind of her standing silhouette, he place his muzzle across her withers momentarily, lipping at the ends of her mane with carefree joy, "Come, your mother will remember you, and we remember her. Let us go back the way we raced across those glades and send that call we promised."
OOC: I think one more post and I'll finish Penny up in here (: Corowa, if you let me know when you want a new thread up for these two that'd be good, thanks.
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Post by Tiggs on Jul 6, 2010 7:15:56 GMT
Thackory watched the exchange between mother and filly with wide eyes. He barely breathed, and when the grey mare melted into the bush, he let out the breath he’d been holding and shook his head. “How do they do that?” He said to himself, straining his ears for any sound of the mare’s retreat. Nothing.
“Well sister, it seems you have your mothers blessing, and of course you have mine. Be off with you, and I wish you both the best of luck.” The plump colt bobbed his head and turned into the bush, calling a friendly farewell to his sister. He made a racket compared to the whisper of Corowa, but he seemed not to mind and ploughed on.
It was a shame to see his sister go, but it made him wonder if he two should part ways with the herd to start his own adventures. Much slower adventured of course, but exciting nonetheless. First though, he would return to the herd and round up his remaining siblings for a game of chase. He always lost of course, but therein lied the fun.
OOC: Aaaaand out!
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