Post by aquiladorado on Jul 2, 2010 5:49:39 GMT
Spring had taken it’s time to disappear, leaving behind it the wakes of destruction. The ever-maturing stallion that stood alone beneath the warmth of the afternoon sun had been thrown into the catastrophes. Wirinun reflected on the experiences he had been through, and realized he was far from who he once used to be.
From starting out as a curious and naïve colt, he had survived the past two years of his life and the trials they had tested him with; trials of temptation, strength, wisdom, courage, instinct, and love. The painted stallion shook his head as his thoughts swirled around that last trial – love – and he gave a soft snort. It was certainly something he was still being tried with. Temptation had been brought on by the magnificent Illoura, leading him to his first mare Pengana through a means of unfortunate circumstances. But those circumstances had earned him a mare all the same, and only led to even more uncommon circumstances that had brought him his second. Both Alkira and Pengana shared all his love, and all his devotion.
Yet it was for that reason he stood alone. Wirinun absentmindedly nosed the luscious grass of Yarraman’s Valley while his mind raced uncontrollably. He was particularly jumpy these days – every slight sound or movement sending his head flying up on high alert, and every extended silence causing chills to run down his frame and allow his worries to take form. What if they don’t come back? was the thought behind his restless behavior, along with the sleep depriving What if something has happened to them? Were his thoughts to rest on either option too long, the stallion was sure to drive himself insane with worry.
The time passed slowly, as if it was deciding to mimic the previous season. Hours turned to days, days nearing on weeks. Perhaps it had been a terrible idea to come here. It was his stubborn will that had drove him to bring his herd to the valley of Kings, and that same stubborn decision that had flung him into the midst of disaster. All he had wanted to do was find himself another mare! One of royal blood, something to be recognized by. He had come here against Pengana’s cautions, and look where he had ended up.
His mares were with foal, with his foals, but the long journey was not really a bother. The grazing had been plentiful as he had promised and they had run into only a few other Brumbies. No, it was the arrival into the valley that had been the start of his problems. Without even being granted with a couple hours of peace, a loud-mouthed Currawong had brought him the news. Tingara had beaten Nepelle, and was once again in charge of his mares. This had put a momentary halt on Wirinun’s plans. To face the black King himself and ask for one of his daughters was a grand task – it wasn’t that the painted stallion feared doing such a thing, but he had not been expecting to meet with Tingara face to face. But what should it matter! The King should be more than happy for one of his daughters to move on with their life. So the young stallion had ventured forth. It was not known to him that the great stallion would leave this world before Wirinun would reach his herd.
So here he stood. Alone. Both his mares at locations unbeknownst to the painted stallion, and in unknown conditions as well. And without a third mare by his side, since the death of the King had been a grievance too great to handle. Wirinun felt guilty in trying to take a filly away after the sudden passing of their father – it simply wasn’t right. He ran his head along the length of a foreleg to rid himself of a pesky itch, and in doing so winced from the pain that shot through his muscles like an arrow. His attempts to leave the valley had not been as successful as he had hoped they would be. Stallions everywhere had been drawn to the area with the upheaval in the order; fights dominated the lands, a title to be won, and losses to be earned. As well as the injuries that accompanied them. Wirinun himself had been dragged into the insanity without really intending to do so.
He was in recovery though, and had learned a lot from the experiences. All something to take to heart and never forget. Shortly after the commotion his mares had declared their time and, as unwilling as he had been to watch them go, he knew it was something he had to do. Also a learning experience. The stallion had held onto the hope that in leaving together, perhaps Alkira and Pengana would return together, too. If one were to return without the other, his worry might finally boil over the edges and dig his grave. Wirinun tried not to think about it, but trying was definitely not earning him the outcome he longed for.
From starting out as a curious and naïve colt, he had survived the past two years of his life and the trials they had tested him with; trials of temptation, strength, wisdom, courage, instinct, and love. The painted stallion shook his head as his thoughts swirled around that last trial – love – and he gave a soft snort. It was certainly something he was still being tried with. Temptation had been brought on by the magnificent Illoura, leading him to his first mare Pengana through a means of unfortunate circumstances. But those circumstances had earned him a mare all the same, and only led to even more uncommon circumstances that had brought him his second. Both Alkira and Pengana shared all his love, and all his devotion.
Yet it was for that reason he stood alone. Wirinun absentmindedly nosed the luscious grass of Yarraman’s Valley while his mind raced uncontrollably. He was particularly jumpy these days – every slight sound or movement sending his head flying up on high alert, and every extended silence causing chills to run down his frame and allow his worries to take form. What if they don’t come back? was the thought behind his restless behavior, along with the sleep depriving What if something has happened to them? Were his thoughts to rest on either option too long, the stallion was sure to drive himself insane with worry.
The time passed slowly, as if it was deciding to mimic the previous season. Hours turned to days, days nearing on weeks. Perhaps it had been a terrible idea to come here. It was his stubborn will that had drove him to bring his herd to the valley of Kings, and that same stubborn decision that had flung him into the midst of disaster. All he had wanted to do was find himself another mare! One of royal blood, something to be recognized by. He had come here against Pengana’s cautions, and look where he had ended up.
His mares were with foal, with his foals, but the long journey was not really a bother. The grazing had been plentiful as he had promised and they had run into only a few other Brumbies. No, it was the arrival into the valley that had been the start of his problems. Without even being granted with a couple hours of peace, a loud-mouthed Currawong had brought him the news. Tingara had beaten Nepelle, and was once again in charge of his mares. This had put a momentary halt on Wirinun’s plans. To face the black King himself and ask for one of his daughters was a grand task – it wasn’t that the painted stallion feared doing such a thing, but he had not been expecting to meet with Tingara face to face. But what should it matter! The King should be more than happy for one of his daughters to move on with their life. So the young stallion had ventured forth. It was not known to him that the great stallion would leave this world before Wirinun would reach his herd.
So here he stood. Alone. Both his mares at locations unbeknownst to the painted stallion, and in unknown conditions as well. And without a third mare by his side, since the death of the King had been a grievance too great to handle. Wirinun felt guilty in trying to take a filly away after the sudden passing of their father – it simply wasn’t right. He ran his head along the length of a foreleg to rid himself of a pesky itch, and in doing so winced from the pain that shot through his muscles like an arrow. His attempts to leave the valley had not been as successful as he had hoped they would be. Stallions everywhere had been drawn to the area with the upheaval in the order; fights dominated the lands, a title to be won, and losses to be earned. As well as the injuries that accompanied them. Wirinun himself had been dragged into the insanity without really intending to do so.
He was in recovery though, and had learned a lot from the experiences. All something to take to heart and never forget. Shortly after the commotion his mares had declared their time and, as unwilling as he had been to watch them go, he knew it was something he had to do. Also a learning experience. The stallion had held onto the hope that in leaving together, perhaps Alkira and Pengana would return together, too. If one were to return without the other, his worry might finally boil over the edges and dig his grave. Wirinun tried not to think about it, but trying was definitely not earning him the outcome he longed for.
