Ghostly Echoes [Open!]

[Tiggs]

Yarraman’s Valley was an eerie place, full of ghosts and memories, both good and bad. Talgarno came here often, hoping maybe to find solace in the valley of Kings. He had wondered alone for many months, and with the death of the last brumby with ties to his history, he had decided it was time to let go of the past and start building his future.

Well, he couldn’t quite sever all ties from his history. He chose Yarraman’s Valley to graze in because this was where his father had died, and where the recently deceased King had killed him. Talgarno hoped that he might find mares here that had known his father, or might be remnants of the Kings herd.

He stood out in the centre of the valley, his bay coat marked with white on his legs, rump and shoulder. His mane and tail were jet black, and his head bore a similar resemblance to that of his father’s, Nevada. He was confident, but not foolish. Occasionally he would lift his head from grazing to glance about the valley, for mares and stallions alike.

When a scent would come to him on the breeze of a mare, he would throw up his roman head and trumpet a welcome. It was a polite invitation to join him. The simple need for company. He had been told before by his mother that his voice was uncannily like his father’s, but he did not truly believe that. In actual fact, if you could not see the bay paint, you would think it was Nevada’s ghost calling to the winds. His voice was so similar to the great grey stallion’s that it would be impossible to tell them apart.

[Rivre]

All night she had traveled, and all day too. Grey splashed cream paint hide shining, sweat coated from her seemingly endless journey, as she wove between the pale candlebarks. Ears flickered nervously, starting at a wombat that walked out into her path and almost neighing in her fright, the wattle and scrub brushing the wetness from her coat, neck arched and stride short, fast but stunted. She could feel the quaking energy of the bush as if it were her own, and as she moved onwards the storm of emotions mounted in her, causing whites to show in her eyes. From somewhere ahead and below, a great stallions call echoed, and she pulled to a fresh halt, almost falling back on herself so quickly did she pull up. For a moment she stood, wondering as to whether she should reply, before she realized the drop was quite closer than she had imagined. Stepping quickly out into the open, mane whipped up by the rogue winds, the cliffs edge welcomed her, a great drop downwards and into a spacious valley. For a while she thought it must have been a ghost, out here in the free air, her fearfulness blown away on the storm of gales, but then she spotted movement below, bay paint hide wracked with vigor and strength. Could it be the same stallion she had met some seasons ago?

Another call followed the last, and it echoed a strange loneliness that she could not bear to hear; throwing caution to the wind, she let her own throbbing neigh ring the valley slopes, answering with desperate hunger to be in company. Barkala had left her this spring, only a yearling but separated from her by the winter floods - now she had nobody. She thought she saw a reaction from the one standing below, but did not heed her own warning call, already having turned to tear down the incline, stumbling as she leaped the precarious rubble track, fear and the wind that spiraled as if in a funnel pushing her faster. Going at the speed she was, it didn't take long to reach the turn into the lower flat, gaze sweeping the valley in earnest. There! Tensing every muscle, she waited, a white and cream, grey mare outlined against the pale snowgum and candlebark track, lobes quelled into stillness. She was sure this was the same horse.

[Tiggs]

Down in the valley, the call that came echoing down from the hills caused the painted bay stallion to throw up his head, ears and nostrils quivering. Did he recognise that voice? He waited, sure he could hear the thunder of hoof beats and the clatter of shingle. The noise faded as presumably hooves met springy snowgrass and he waited.

Suddenly the was a pale shape down the valley, and Talgarno, poised with ridged anticipation threw up his head and called again. From a distance this mare was certainly tugging on memories, and as he set off at a graceful lope toward her, he was more sure the closer he got that this was the painted grey mare he had met at the end of last year.

He slowed as he neared her, hooves biting into the damp ground and kicking up half-moons of soil. He nickered and tossed his head, dark mane and tail stringy from the spring showers. He stood for a moment, looking over the mare. Yes, this was definitely her. “Allambee.” The name came to the surface of his mind and he nickered softly in greeting. Her son was no longer by her side, but he spared only a short moment wondering if he had been taken by the winter or had separated on his own.

As a stallion, colts were of no consequence to him. Since the now yearling was gone, Allambee was free to choose a stallion that was not related to her son. Talgarno huffed warm air from his nostrils and reached his nose out to hers. “It is good to see you again. I admit I did not expect it to be you that would answer my call, but I am nonetheless grateful.”

[Rivre]

The great paint stallion drew to a graceful halt before her, mane and tail a little bedraggled from the showers, as was hers for different reasons, but non the less he looked to be in splendid health after such a cruel winter. She extended pale nose to his as he offered his own, at their meeting, all her previous fears melting away with care-free abandon. She nodded as if in apology to his words, remembering as if a long time ago, the reckless gallop down that shaly track; "It was not my intention do so either - but when I realized it was you I was more than happy to oblidge," she nickered proudly, "In fact, I have been quite intrigued by you since our last meeting. What was it you promised me? To steal me away from any stallion I might choose?" The amusment was evident in her voice, but it pleased her anyway to say them with such fond approval.

She felt like she had known this stallion far longer than she had indeed known him - and perhaps it was because of learning so much of his father and his ways, that they were so similar. "Maybe I did choose one such horse, but he left before I had the chance to tell him," the words were barely audiable for herself, let alone the other who listened so carefully to her mumblings, and she felt her heart sobbing irregular beats in her chest as they spun into existence. What a silly thing to have said! Ears flickering with embarrassment, she nudged at his neck gently, nibbling the rogue strangs of bay and cream in an attempt to distract his attention. Stallions always made her stupid.

[Tiggs]

Talgrno inclined his head slightly. So he had made an impression on her, had he? He gave a pleased nicker and tossed his head playfully. “Well we shall have to find you a stallion so I can steal you from him. You seem to have avoided them this long, but I’m sure I can find you someone suitable.” He replied, voice deadpan but his expression was jovial. He was not sure why she suddenly seemed embarrassed, but he endeavoured to entertain her.

“There must be a stallion nearby. Here, I shall call one for you.” He threw up his head and whinnied shrilly, a poor imitation of a mare’s call. He chuckled and nudged her cheek, eyes brimming with satisfaction. “Come, join me. The grazing is good here, and I’m afraid I’ve chased off all the colts and lesser stallions.” He flicked his ebony tail and looked on down the valley. Of course there was always the chance the new King would return here, but he kept his ear out for the gang-gangs, for they would alert him for sure if the King was coming. Those gossips could not resist telling the whole High Country if someone as powerful as the King was on the move.

For the moment, it seemed he and Allambee had the valley of Kings for themselves. He looked over her fondly, finding he had missed seeing a friendly face. He touched his nose to hers again and lingered for a serious moment before he dropped his head to graze. He had not lied to her. He would challenge any stallion for her. She was a pretty mare, and her temperament suited him.

[Rivre]

The grey paint threw her head in a joyous manner, letting go of the horror that had been her journey to this place, and instead focusing on the strangely noble stallion she had stumbled across. He was indeed kind, and seemed to have a sense of humour. Rolling her eyes at his weak imitation, she touched his nose to hers again and quivered at the sensation. It would be silly if that call did attract other stallions, and for a moment she worried - but Talgarno was strong, and she trusted him to protect her, so she let it slide. Instead she wondered at the Kings where-abouts, and whether he would soon frequent this valley as had the great Tingara - in no way was the young one related to the past royal, but it seemed he had the head on his shoulders to keep his title and his mares - at least, he was a very good fighter.

"Yes, I too think that you have scared them off, and the sweet grass will help me in imagining the fun you would have had beating them if they were to have come," she mocked, arching her neck as she pranced around the statuesque horse, nipping him playfully on the rump before dropped her head to graze. Games only amused her for a while, and as she snatched up the verdant stems, Allambee peered up from under her forelock with dark eyes to admire the bay tobiano's sleek hide and strong hind-quarters. He was the sort of horse she would follow, not unlike her late stallion, but that didn't matter now, she had someone else to spend her time with, and someone else to trust in.

Raising her head, ears flickering quietly, Allambee let a warm nicker escape pursed lips, welcoming the stallion closer if he wished - and only, if he wished. Continuing to busy herself with grazing, she felt intensely aware of the space around of her, waiting, wanting to feel the pressure of a flank beside of her, but unsure of herself all the same. She was a mare of level head, and nonsense was not something she took upon herself, so shaking her mane in a silly manner she forgot to worry, to wonder, and instead, just kept grazing.

[Tiggs]

Talgarno gave a start as she nipped his rump and he squealed playfully. “Hah, let them come. I feel strong and victorious on this day. No stallion but the King would worry me.” He tossed his head and cavorted about in a tight circle. The arrival of Allambee had put him in high spirits, and he was infused with life and energy. He had not realised just how being alone had sobered him!

She nickered to him, and he calmed enough to stand. For a moment he watched her graze, noted the calm shift of her ears and the casual set of her legs. She was so confident, then, that he would protect her? Expelling a long breath of warm air from his nostrils, he went to her. He lowered his head to graze, pulling at the grass in a similar pattern to the painted grey mare.

As they grazed, he felt a prickling against his flank, and a chill down his right side. Allambee grazed to his right, and without giving it much thought, he shifted to rest his flank against hers. At once the chill was chased away by satisfied warmth, and Talgarno made a muffled nicker against the grassy ground.

He lifted his head enough to chew while he watched Allambee graze. It was surprising how he had missed company. Just the simple act of grazing next to each other was a comfort he had not realised he craved. The stallion finished his mouthful and confidently leaned over to lip at the crest of her neck, snuffling his way down to nibble at the poll of her head.

Without words, it was the careful affection that he hoped would seal their fate. Allambee was a good mare, and he wished her to run with him. He nuzzled gently at the curve of her cheek, dark eyes solemn and soft. ‘Stay with me’, he said with his eyes, a gentle plea.

[Rivre]

The company was good to say the least. Talgarno was not a wasteful stallion, he took things in his stride and worried about the now. Chuckling softly into the snowgrass, she replied softly to his own muffled nicker, truly dark eyes flickering to his, head turning slightly so that she could admire his strength and vitality. For a moment a tension hung between the pair, a moment and that was all, then flanks touches and all quarries drifted quietly away, tabiano flank pressed against her white splashed one, tail flicking to casually bat away the flies that bothered her pale self, lobes flickered also to deterr the annoying midges. It felt right, to be bothering about such things as flies, her mind no longer captured by the heat and stillness of the bush, as her heart had once been, now she longed for a simple and quiet life, one in which she may perhaps forget her yearling colt's evident passing.

The great stallion's cropping ceased, and she turned to see him lower his muzzle to her neck, blowing softly through her nostrils in thanks, then returning eager teeth to the sweet snow and heather stems. For the moment, her itches were satisfied, and yet the stirring of his gentle nuzzles greatly relived her, of both stress and the stiffness of her wrenched neck. She really should not have galloped that last stretch. As his grooming came to a halt at her cheek, she turned to gaze into his solemn eyes, pleading eyes. She chuckled again, and this time threw up her head, nipping him playfully on the shoulder, "O' stupid one, of course I am staying with you, if I was not, should not I be gone now?" Shaking her hide free of the remaining itches, she gazed fondly into his own dark orbs, strechting to lip the mane of his forelock for the softness only a mare could achieve.

[Tiggs]

The stallion gave a gentle nicker and lowered his noble head so she could better reach his dark forelock. “Well you can never tell with mares.” He said wryly. “They can be most unpredictable.” He huffed and nudged her cheek before returning to grazing. He flicked his tail, swatting his rump. He kept one warm brown eye on Allambee while simultaneously keeping a watch on the rest of the valley.

They could stay here a long while, there was plenty of grazing and as of yet, no competition for it. His dark-tipped ears gave a flicker and his flung his head up high, nostrils flaring. He was poised like that for a few long breaths, then he snorted and dropped his head to graze once more. Nothing more than a lyrebird.

He had the distinct feeling that this summer was going to be his most satisfying yet. The search for his father had been ultimately fruitless, but perhaps in time he would find more of those mares that knew him, or perhaps even some of his siblings. Allambee would keep him company, and they could just relax, moving from plateau to valley to tor to graze, with no particular goal but to get fat on grass for the next winter.

Perhaps they would find more mares, perhaps not. He was in no rush to build his herd. What will be will be. C'est la vie.

OOC: Shall we wrap up here and we'll make a new thread for the summer?

[Rivre]

Sure *-^