Going North {Jirrand Herd/Open}

[Ehetere]

OOC: For Jirrand's girls (the very select few XD) and anyone else who wants to join in the celebrations.


The trumpeting calls of stallions rang out frequently in spring, but none so loud as that of a certain cremello stallion as he made his way north. The death of the last King had left the High Country in uproar while stallions battled and fought for position. It was in this turmoil Jirrand had seen his chance and had emerged battle scarred but victorious.

Coming to a stop in a wide open valley in the Brolga’s old country, he let out another trumpeting call to his mares – only two of which were actually with him at this time. The lovely roan mare Nilee had yet to return from giving birth, and Jirrand was worried for her. None the less, he refused to let his worries dampen his mood or his mares’, as Kalari had a new foal at foot, his first daughter. The little foal was the spitting image of her mother, though perhaps with a more metallic sheen to her young coat. A foal to be proud of for sure,

Trotting over, he attentively checked over his two creamy charges, snuffling at the little filly affectionately. She was a dear thing, and he was very glad to have her. Once again the anxiety about Nilee and her unborn foal crept in, but he pushed it away again. Perhaps it was the fact it was the first time he had let his mares go off on their own without him there to keep an eye on him that was so concerning, he did not know.

A young coal black mare followed the white and cream pair, and Jirrand made his way over to her with a friendly nicker. Karween had developed from the gangly yearling he had first met into a handsome young mare. Nuzzling her shoulder, he set to grooming about her withers, occasionally removing tufts of winter fluff to reveal a gleaming coat beneath.


OOC: Hope this is ok Corowa, I'll check with you when you get beck from work. Wanted to post this before I forgot I needed to.

[Valatone]

Down the steep descent of the Brolga's country, came the white flanked and creamy flagged hide of the mare known as Valatone. She heard Jirrand's calls, and despite what her heart told her, she shyly made her way towards them. It had all happened so fast- Tingara was gone now, and she would never see him again. Wasn't that life? Cruel and cold to the touch? She'd learnt that long ago, but it still broke her heart. Cooma was without a father....all her children were. She wasn't quite ready to let go- the time had barely passed.

With the panic and sadness clearly displayed on her face, he spotted the strange white and his small herd- surprizingly small, considering he was the new king. There had been a great many battles, and he must of emerged victorious. A nightrunner? There was something slightly different that made him that and other things, she could see. Creamies and blacks, all kinds of colours, in a small group that made a herd.

Suddenly feeling a little sense and power come to her legs, she began to move back into the trees, lip quivering just slightly- but it was too late. The crackle of dry bark came from her back hoof as she began to walk backwards, melt away like a ghost, and she cringed at the ringing sound that seemed so loud in the silence. Anyone would hear it and look up, and white wasn't the easiest colour to camoflague- a good hard look might reveal her.

Any moment now she might be collected or recognized or anything, realising this she pulled her head over her shoulder and nickered sweetly to her creamy daughter, who boldly stepped from her hiding place to be beside her mother.

So she waited and waited, for whatever would happen, whatever will be will be.

[Corowa]

Karween walked with a proud, swinging carriage, and there was the promise of swiftness in those strong hindquarters and long limbs. Her hide glistened with a fine layer of lather, and the whites of her eyes showed. There was no welcoming shelter of bush here, only a few gnarled snowgums, bent and bleached by wind and snow. Karween knew that only in the blackness of night could she move as a ghost, unseen and unheard through the bush. Yet here, out on this wide plain of snowgrass, there nowhere to hide from the stockmen and their tame horses.

Jirrand finally stopped, and with a snort, the mare dropped her head to crop at the snowgrass. For a moment, there was no sound but the sigh of the wind through the snowgums. Then, from somewhere nearby, there came the joyful warble of the kurrawong. Karween listened, wondering what it was such a wise bird told of. Surely, it was of Jirrand the kurrawong spoke, for the stallion was truly a splendid sight, turned to silver by the sunlight.

Her skin prickled, and she felt a shiver run through her. Karween was suddenly, intensely aware of Jirrand there beside her. The stallion stood close enough that their coats touched, and something stirred in her blood, a queer feeling of excitement that left her breathless with longing. For once uncertain, Karween stood shyly while he nibbled at her shoulder. Then the mare turned to him, and the throbbing in her veins was stilled by the gentleness of his touch.

“So you are truly King of all the Cascade brumbies,” she mocked. “Though with such boasting your head has surely grown so heavy you could not catch me! I could challenge even the wind itself now, for I am swift indeed, perhaps even swifter than you O runner of the night.” Karween teased him with a well-placed nip. Then she swung away, dancing neatly over the snowgrass, every movement provocative, forcing him to notice her and only her.

[Ehetere]

Jirrand snorted in amusement at Karween’s teasing. He was not big headed – far from it boasting one of the smallest herds in all the high country – but he was proud he had finally achieved respect from his fellow horses after all this time. It felt satisfying and good. If only his mother and father could see him now, imagine their reactions. Perhaps this was why he had been kicked out at such a young age, his father spotting the fabulous pale stallion that was to come. It was of no consequence now however, Jirrand had come to realize he was never meant for the world of those ghostly runners of the night.

The coal black mare spun away with a grace that threatened to take his breath away. Who would have imagined the horse she would become two seasons ago? Momentarily distracted by observing the fluidity of her movement and how her muscles rippled, he sprang after her with a joyous whinny, thankful to be so alive and free that spring day.

Surely though he did not own the largest or rarest herd of mares in the High Country he had the happiest, throwing a glance over to where Kalari was hungrily cropping the sweet grass with her little filly suckling equally as ravenously. Everything about the day felt good and pure.

Returning his attention to the chase, he let his muscles stretch out. They’d been stiff and sore after his clashes and battles to win the Kingship and it was nice to have them moving again. The black filly continued to evade him, quick as a whip and nearly as thin. Karween looked like a horse built for speed, surely able to challenge the wind itself as she herself had said. Following her like this with excited snorts and whinnies, Jirrand realized she had become quite the prize indeed, for both man and horse.

The quiet sound of scratching bark had Jirrand pulling us sharply on his haunches, head thrown up and ears pricked in alarm. Fears of men returning early to the High Country crossed to the forefront of his mind, and immediately his thoughts turned to his two mares with their lovely colours and that new pale cream and white foal.

But it was not a man on a strong horse waiting to ambush him and tear his family apart. Instead Jirrand saw a dainty cream and white mare standing at the edge of the trees, a creamy foal standing at her side. Remaining statuesque for a moment longer, Jirrand let out a tentative welcoming nicker, worried about scaring the mare and her daughter off.

Gently, he called Karween to him with a deep whicker, hoping to draw some of her guidance here. He’d had his fair share of experiences when dealing with his own mares in fear, but was not sure how a mother with a young foal might react to a stallion. Perhaps she might feel better if there was a fellow mare there? Mares were so protective of their children, and there were some truly abhorrent characters out there who would kill foals that were not theirs so it was understandable. Jirrand was not one of them however, and never would be. He only hoped he could portray this to the scared creamy and her daughter.

[aquiladorado]

OOC: I'm putting Girra in, about time anyways! PRESENT ;D

From velvet nostrils came the softest of snorts, a sound of pleasure, as a young mare stood behind a cover of snowgums and watched the pale stallion prance around. Girra was far from the filly she had once been, and yet she was still far from an age that would gift her with extensive knowledge. But with the wisdom she so obviously possessed, it was not hard to tell that there was something magnificent about him.

The dark strands of her tail flicked across Girra's sides, removing the pestering flies that came to rest on her unique coat. Tearing her gaze from the stallion, the mare turned her elegant head to look at the odd patch that consumed the lower part of her belly. It was an odd patch indeed. Neither her mother or her father had been marked as extensively as Girra had been when she was born, but they had treasured her individuality. When no stallion had come to take her away, her father had urged the young mare to set off on her own in search of a stallion worthy to possess her beauty. Girra had hesitated leaving her family behind, but had come to embrace the possibility of settling into a herd and therefore agreed.

That had been almost a year ago. To be honest, Girra had not come across many stallions - none of which she had decided to show herself to, at least. The young mare preferred to study the strange beasts from afar, but never pursued them when they began to take their leave. No logical reasoning could be found behind why she chose to remain hidden - just as she was hiding herself away now. But for some reason, this stallion seemed different. He followed the playful ways of his black mare, trailing after her joyously as she lead him on a chase. The happiness he shared with his mares was a simple thing, really. As was his small herd. Yet the stallion himself was not as simple as Girra had originally thought.

At a first glance, he looked to be a creamy. Some sort of mix of a creamy it seemed after further inspection. The stallion's eerily beautiful movements reminded the young mare of stories she had been told as an even younger filly; stories that were almost lost to her now, stories about mysterious Brumbies that pranced in the way this one did, but only when the moon was shining high above. Girra actually risked a glance to the sky, only to confirm that it was definitely not nighttime. She cleared the lingering memories from her head with only a slight disappointment, and allowed her gaze to once again wander to the pale figure that danced before her, entrancing her once again.

Mesmorized, the blue mare was almost coaxed into leaving her cover to join in the dance of this stallion but caught hold of herself just in time to see another creamy - this time a mare - had captured the attention of the mystical stallion. She bore a young foal that had plastered itself close to its mother as they stood quite noticeably amongst another set of snowgums. Girra cocked her head in interest as to how the stallion would react to the new arrivals, or whether it was simply one of the mares this stallion had already claimed and was just returning from her foaling. Either way, the young mare's body trembled with her excitement.

[Valatone]

(Just a note, Vala is white with a creamy mane and tail, not actually a creamy ;])

She was well noticed by almost all of the herd, and it was easy to tell, eyes turning to stare at her, perhaps not unkindly. Was this the right thing for her? Perhaps it would help her, help her heal a little. The white mare found herself leaning forwards a little, perhaps entranced by the warmth of the thought- when the distant sound of a dingo's howl woke her from this daylark.

Cooma was nudging into her side, impatient for attention. She'd long since grown off her milk, so Valatone knew it could only be that or that she was scared, which was unlikely, since her daughter was quite the fickle bully at times. Nuzziling through her mane, she had to make a decision, and soon.

What if he killed her- her only living daughter, creamy and lovely? What if he was unkind? She could not tell these things from a glance, and only time could reveal ones nature, like the meaning in a mopoke's hoot. Hearing him call to her, Valatone's heart ran faster, turning her head up to meet the eyes of Girra and Jirrand.

If things went wrong, she could always run away, right?
Pshh, yeah, run away with a young filly, behind the back of a nightrunner.

With a leap of faith, Tingara's white mare took bold, but slow and cautious, steps forward, little child taking her time to come after her.

[Corowa]

In only an instant, Jirrand had sprung away after her, and with a joyful squeal, Karween really started to run. The mare stretched out into a gallop, feeling the singing of blood in her veins, her skin prickling with such wild excitement. Karween led Jirrand on a swift, whirlwind dance over the snowgrass, mocking him with her whinnies so it was as if she was laughing at the silver stallion. Then he called, and the mare pulled up on her haunches, filled with a sudden, trembling dread.

Karween stood with head held high. The mare’s ears twitched and she returned to Jirrand at once, noticing the sudden tension visible in every line of the stallion’s body. “You are King of the High Country itself, yet you seem shy and unsure as a colt” the mare snorted, and reached over to nibble fondly on his shoulder. Then she was walking out over the snowgrass towards that sheltering belt of snowgums, where the queer white mare stood and watched.

The surrounding bush seemed so still and silent, and at that moment, the mare stepped out from beneath the snowgums. There by her flank was a splendid golden filly, and all the sunlight seemed to concentrate on the filly, so her coat burned and her mane and tail glistened silver. Karween herself was no pliable and timid filly such as had once run in the mob of that fierce grey stallion. She was a mare nearly in her prime, mate to one of the strongest stallions that had ever run the High Country.

Karween blew softly through her nostrils in greeting to the white mare. There was a worried expression in her eyes as she strained to pick out any sign of movement through the rough-barked snowgums. Surely, a stallion would have noticed such a mare missing from his mob, and yet there came no furious stallion’s roar, though Karween could feel every nerve tingling, every part of her straining, listening.

“Come,” she said then, and Karween gave the mare a gentle nudge. “There is nothing to so terrified of here. There is grazing enough and my mate is strong enough to chase off the most bothersome of stallions.” Karween took one step back and then another. With a soft whinny, she coaxed the handsome mare and filly out from beneath the snowgums.

OOC: Karween hasn’t noticed Girra just yet.

[Ehetere]

Jirrand felt more confident with Karween at his side. How could one mare contain such joy, such happiness, such kindness; and not hope for it to spill out the sides? Not that he would ever complain – she was a jewel, and he would protect her with his life.

“I thought you were worried about me being big headed,” he said in an undertone, his voice filled with amusement.

He watched as the creamy mare stepped into the sun – her coat almost resembling his own queer cream-white hue. Her daughter shone and glittered, and he wondered what fearsome stallion would come looking for her. No horse in their right mind would let such a pair go wandering willy-nilly.

Setting these concerns aside, Jirrand simply reminded himself of the possibilities of a battle and not to be relaxing too soon. He’d recovered from his conquests, at least well enough that no injury consciously bothered him, and he was prepared to fight any stallion who wished to disrupt him or his family.

Karween’s coaxing got the lovely pair from the trees, and Jirrand trotted forward to meet them, offering an exuberant but friendly whinny – one that sung of a stallion in his prime, of his love for the country around him and of his love for his herd. He propped to a bouncy standstill, his energy levels and excitement rising by the second. His heart still beat fast from the chase Karween had been leading, but he must be calm, reassuring, for this rather timid mare.

Offering out his nose in greeting to first the white cream mare and then her creamy daughter, he stepped back again; raising his noble head to the sky to let out anther trumpeting cry to ward off any threats in the area. Never would his mares or his offspring be stolen from him again.

Taking a deep breath through dilated nostrils, he scented the area, just to be sure. The scents of his two mares, his daughter and this new pair of pale females mingled around him, but there was something else. Another horse. He thought it might be another mare, but the scent could have been confused in the rest of the smells flying around. Gazing out, he saw nothing, and he flicked his pink tinged ears about in search of hide or movement. There was none.

Knowing that Karween would sense his caution, he called her and the new arrivals after him, down to where Kalari was standing so he might see them all in one place. He did not fear another horse, but it was much easier for a stallion with less than friendly intentions to cut away a mare if they were separated and spread out.

[Valatone]

Valatone heard greetings now, whispers, voices calling. She felt like she was traitorous for doing this; and yet it felt so safe here with the strange stallion, not unlike herself in colouring but still different. There was no sign of disturbance, perhaps a call of a bush creature far back, but no wild stallions yelling angrily. The perlino was lucky she and her daughter hadn't been caught on their way here- it was safe.

Instead of taking her own way forward, the mighty stallion came towards her, and lent his nose forward for both herself and Cooma. She was willing, and politely nosed him back as a sort of bondage; this settled the matter, she would be his now.

But Cooma was a different story.
Cooma's creamy ears flicked back, and her gaze squandered from the stranger stallion to her mother. Trying to reassure her, Valatone nibbled at her mane a little, but it was obvious the filly wasn't happy here. And she was old enough to be on her own now, as much as the mare hated to see her children leave her. With a playful nip of the ear, Cooma bolted away, once twirling on one hoof in a spectacular flash of silver mane- then, she was gone.

Although Valatone knew already that Jirrand would not chase after her, she was certainly ready to bite and kick, but didn't make it too obvious. Just....paranoia. Her new stallion let out his call, and she did not notice the sudden alertness coming from him. She was still a bit shy and confused, although encouraged.

To begin with, the perlino mare was inbetween Karween and the part nightrunner stallion. "What do they call the new king?" came her quiet question, tail flicking gently.

[aquiladorado]

The mare did not seem to belong to the creamy stallion, yet he welcomed her and her foal in a friendly manner as they were coaxed out of the trees. Girra was absorbed in watching the group, taking note of every movement, so she managed to catch the tense lines that suddenly appeared in the stallion's body. The blue mare froze - slowing her breathing as best as she could - as he sent his gaze on a search of the area. Had he seen her? Girra could not tell whether he had or had not, but either way the pale stallion gathered the mares and moved them over to where another mare stood further away.

Girra let out her breath in a quick snort, the irritation plain on her features. She contemplated leaving, but stuck to her gut feeling as she trailed after the small herd so she could continue to watch them. It was difficult to maintain her cover and remain silent at the same time - the dry leaves that littered the ground crackled underfoot, and the terrain she stood on was slightly sloped and caused her to stumble more than once. Each movement seemed to be a betrayal to her existence, and the young mare's ears rested only slightly above being pinned to her head in the frustration of the act.

Eventually Girra was as close as she really needed to be, but it did not please her. She figured the far side of the area was better, but the shelter on the way there was poor. In her current state though, the young mare really couldn't have cared less. Let the stallion see her! There was no hope in sneaking by him anyways, he was way too alert. So the blue roan mare raised her head a little higher, picked up her feet more elegantly, and waltzed past the herd behind minimal cover. She said nothing to acknowledge them, partly out of fear and partly out of not really knowing what to say, and only risked a few glances toward the queer colored stallion.