A Vision of Black [Open <3]

[Rivre]

The silver and white gums of the huge valley echoed whatever call was breezing by on winters flapping wings; arms scratching along pitch hide and snapping to flank as the lithe brumby forced her way through their embrace, frozen branches leaving no trial on the black canvas of her coat, her coat so thin it could have been mistaken for a summer covering. For this winter, and every other, her seasons thick pelt had not grown in - for she was bred to be graceful, perfection - and one could not stride around looking as such with a hairy and unsightly coat upon her being. Long legs moved with a purpose, like pillars of granite tor it was with direction they were placed upon the white ground, lobes pricked and swiverling constantly, chisled head thrown up and tail flagging slightly.

The coal black mare was young, young and healthy as a horse in spring due to winters own young arrival; her hide was glossy and her dark eyes keen, sparkling even as the snow and candle bark gums began to thin, leading the only smudge, a perfect smudge - out into the openess of the snow covered plain. As she took the first steps into the unknown beyond, she moved with a hesitance not yet seen by any creatures who had stirred to watch her passing, nostrils flared to blow a gust of warm air into freezing air, flank shivering as the cold bit into her, a few loud snorts following. So this was Yarraman's Valley? The mare threw dished head around, left to right in a joyous shy, then propped to the left again before springing into a mad gallop, bucking and prancing, neck arched and legs picking up high above the dusted white that flew up around her black form, almost cloud like. Hers were the only prints so far in this place and it was exilherating dash and spin, buck and rear, carefree until someone else did stumble across her abode. A stallion maybe.

She was a prize, no matter the plain coat, it was obvious that her build was one of rareity amoung the primative brumby kind: and besides, she could flaunt for the high-country, no stallion could or would resist her charms. Despite her slightly vainty struck thoughts, as she whirled and danced through the flying snow torrent Tehya scented something that peaked her interest and rekindled her hope - a stalion. The scent was stale and it took her a good while to track down the location of where it was the strongest - for the most part because occasionally the excitment became too much and she would break off again into a mad flurry of hooves and loose the trail - but when she did she was not disappointed. The stallion had been moving with a great many mares, and as she snuffed through the snow, pushing her nostrils deep into it's crevices, she remembered that it was the King's herd who frequented these parts. For a moment the thought instilled a fear in her - for who was watching her now? And then a profound longing took over her momentary unease, a longing to be a part of the curious night runners herd. How fun it would be, and a queen she too would be named!

So caught up in this new day-dream was Tehya, that she forgot of course the rumours of their new Kings suppoed disappearance and instead busied herself imagining as to what sort of foals they would produce. Obviously they would inhert her refined features and athletic build, but perhaps their fathers colour would be handsome on one such as herself? There was sudden movement in the snowgums to the far side of the valley where she had entered and all thoughts of the king dropped from her mind, now lobes pinned forwards, nassel passages strained to catch a scent, anything that would hint at some horse watching from the trees.

[Tiggs]

In stark contrast to the graceful mare, the stallion who burst from the treeline was a broad-chested shaggy-haired brown-and-white opposite. His run was fast and furious, his hooves kicking up snow like dust behind him, and there was none of the delicate carefulness in his stride. His gallop was swift, but with his head and tail flung high, he was clearly not running from anything in fear.

A pale mare followed the white-splashed stallion, and he whinnied and called back to her, his gallop faltering as he bucked and sidestepped in play. Careening up the valley, he finally spotted the dark mare and with a sharp skid he slowed to a trot. He tossed up his bay head, thin black mane moving with it. He perked up his ears, and lifted his stockinged legs in a more serious rhythm. With a bob, he bowed his slightly convex head to his chest and arched the crest of his neck.

His pace slowed again and he came to a stop a little distance from the black mare. Up close, she was quite a strange creature. How did she not freeze with such a sparse coat!? Nevertheless, Talgarno was in a sociable mood and impressing mares was high on his list of things to do. Allambee was wonderful company, and he did not take her for granted, but the stallion was ambitious and any chance to build his herd was welcome.

“Welcome to Yarraman’s Valley. I am Talgarno,” he introduced himself, dark eyes casting over her slowly. A strange specimen indeed. He nickered and bowed his noble bay head. “Have you no stallion?” He seemed casual with the question, as if the answer would not worry him either way. He was a stallion in his prime, who or what could possibly trouble him?

[Rivre]

For a moment the canvas of white remained frozen, and sudden quiet encroached the large scopey valley, then lobes were quelled into stillness, brown and grey bulk of a horse burst from the tree line, and Tehya shied wildly, hooves slipping on the icy surface, a few strides of canter leading her to a swaying standstill, head thrown almost too high, nostrils flared as she drank in the newcomers scent. Better positioning herself, she let out a strong whinny, a mixture of surprise and hope. Was this horse a royal descendant? The situation was perfect - how could she deny this stallion her attention? And then - the inevitable happened, a splashed grey mare stepped from the cover of the bush.

Allambee was more cautious then her doting stallion, but still she threw her head a little in her smart trot. As they wandered happily out into the new clearing, she wandered as to what their nearing foal would look like - would it take after it's father or her sire? No matter - still thoughts of younguns' wounded her slightly - for Barkala had been lost to the spring floods. The sharp grey quickly became aware of another presence - that and a loud snort of disdain escaped a dainty black mare that stood some distance away. Ears pricked a smile lit her features at the chance to converse with another of the like kind, and ignoring the other mare's rude outburst, replied with a call of her own. Talgarno had already made his way over to the black smudge of a mare and so she meandered over less enthusiasticlly, wondering as to whether this mare would accompany them.

The paint stallion was not all that handsome, he was bulky and well-muscled, an icon of strength, but his hide was shaggy and his mane bedraggled, almost as if he did not care for it. Blinking once, Tehya decided to ignore the grey mare altogether, for already she was becoming a nuisance. Tail flagging a little higher, she replied to the deep tones of the stallion with smooth ones of her own, "I have no stallion," she murmured, doing her best attempt at provocative innocence, lashes touching bashfully. Perhaps this stallion had something of use to her? "And what may a big strong stallion like yourself be bothering himself in such a place? Is this not the King's domain?" Striding towards him, midnight banner flicked the coloured brumby casually on the chest, words stirring the whiskers of his chin as she touched her nose softly to his own bay one. Teyha tried hard not to recoil, and instead a pained smile mirrored that of the converging grey paint mare.

[Tiggs]

Talgarno flicked an ear as Allambee approached, nickering to her briefly before the black mare caught his attention again. Her build was so slender, a pitch black contrast to himself and Allambee. He had the thick build of his father, and Allambee the stocky build of the brumbies and something taller. The black mare before him was almost fragile in comparison, like a foal yet perfectly proportioned. She was intriguing to say the least. All curves and elegance.

Talgarno let his appreciation show as he watched her come closer, ears flickering and nostrils flaring as she spoke and brushed her dainty muzzle with his. He nickered wryly, “This is the King’s valley, yes, but I fear no such stallion,” he arched his neck proudly. “Do you seek him, then? Would that be why you follow no stallion?”

He found himself flagging his own tail, her confidence infectious. He still marvelled at the pure blackness of her coat. Could she be related to the former King? She bore the same resemblance in her dished head, though her coat was thinner, her legs more slender in comparison. That made him sober a little. Could he take on a daughter of the King that killed his father? Would she remind him every day of his loss? His failure to find him before that final fight?

Or would it be in defiance of him? Collecting up his daughters to spite his memory? Talgarno chastised himself; there was no need for him to be petty. The old King had just been defending his herd and title; he had beaten Nevada fairly in that fight. Besides, she might not even be related to Tingara at all. He was jumping to assumptions. He could find out the sensible way: by asking her.

[Rivre]

Tehya watched with an open curiosity, noting with amusement the spark of admiration in his dark eyes for her own black hide. She thought perhaps his fearlessness was down to some stupidity, but kept the thought to herself despite having to bite her tongue to do so. On the other-hand, his recklessness appealed to her somewhat. Pointed lobes rotating to focus on what stood before her once more, the sharply angled mare let flared nostrils graze the hide of his neck gently, barely stirring the whiteness with warm breath as she offered a reply of her own. "What business is it of a rogue stallion to whom I follow or to what I busy myself with? Especially one who fears nothing and nobody..." Her tones were calm but held within them an teasing note not yet heard by these two newcomers.

It seemed the white paint mare was intent on sticking her own nose in however and Tehya let those same previously friendly ears pin back harshly as the older of the two stepped closer - her belly swollen with foal; unsightly. "Greetings I am Allambee," she nickered warmly, ignoring the ugly set of the opposing mare's features and instead allowing the gentleness of her own gaze to penetrate shadowy eyes. Tehya filled the silence with following with just that - silence. She did not feel she owed this brumby anything, let alone the knowledge of her name. He should have to tell her. It was unlikely that she would follow this stallion anyhow - what was his name? Talgarno? Odd but fitting she supposed. Turning her gaze away from the seemingly doting Allambee, the black horse, sharing so much of the arab likeness, instead fixated her attention on the bay and splashed stallion that had so conviniently appeared to aid her.

Allambee, irritated by the younger horse's lack of respect, busied herself snuffling her bruised and heaving sides, inspecting what would soon be her son- or daughter - as well as this often too generous Talgarno with pointed gaze. Surely he would fall for her act? Scraping a single hoof across the white surface, the light grey and hued mare spotted a few sparse grass stems and so instead set about to graze for the duration of their conversing. After-all, clearly she was not welcome.