Travels End

[sooty]

This was not the normal sort of place that she would travel to. She didn’t like wide open spaces much and all this black and dead look made her stick right out, though in the circumstances that did not worry her too much. She would see others in this barren landscape as easy as they would see her and she was on full alert looking out for them. She had taken years to make her way to the legendary high country and now that she was here she was not going anywhere even if at the moment it was a mess. She knew that soon the dead and burnt trees would feet the soil bellow and everything would grow well again.

She trots through the ash, the lower part of her legs turning black from the ask sticking to her. Her white tail is held high as she moves so that it does not drag in the black and become stained. She has some bits of black on her stomach as she picks her legs up high as she trots almost kicking herself in her gut as she does so. Her neck was slightly arched and her nostrils were wide as she was sucking in the air, studying it for any smells that would alert her to who is around. Her soft brown eyes looking out for any movement, any sign of life.

So far she was seeing none just a barren and quiet landscape. It sent shivers down her spine, it was so quiet for her but she knew with the brumbies returning then more and more animals would return and so would the hustle and bustle of the high country. She would like that, she felt like some company after her lone travelling years. It would feel good to socialise again. It was just finding the others, she knew there were more brumbies out here she just had to find them.

Or them find her, as it was time for moulting and as she trots along tuffs of white fur are falling to the ground revealing her light creamy summer coat with white dapple rings. The problem was though the white tufts of fur stood out against the dead black ground and they lead whoever found them with in her direction. She was aware of this though so every now and then she would turn her head to look back behind her and look out to see if anyone was following her.

[Ehetere]

A pale shape made its way through the miles and miles of charred bush. The stallion held his head low, ears drooping as he looked at the remnants of what had once been his home. All the lovely snowgrass clearings and deep swamps were gone, replaced with a dead black mess. It was certainly a heavy atmosphere that spoke of death and sorrow.

Piringa shied away from the bones of another brumby who had not escaped the inferno, breaking into a nervous canter that stirred up the ash, causing it to plume out behind him. Though he was nearly white, his legs were now stained black with soot from his travels. Despite this, there was no denying he was handsome and refined - lithe and swift and beautiful. His mane was long and thick, his tail lifted high like a flag and as white as snow. From the arch in his neck and the dish of his face, it was plain to see that the stallion was of purer blood than most brumbies.

Scaling the slopes to Paddy Rush’s Bogong, he could still not help but be unnerved by the ghostly shapes of the snow gums, reaching their pale dead branches towards the sky. There was even less cover here than there was before, and his white form would be plain for all who cared to see. Piringa was unconcerned however - the thread of man was all but nil, and he suspected they would not be returning for at least some time.

It was a sad sight to see the normally lush grazing grounds reduced to such a charcoal state. With the coming of rain, new life would begin to spring forth, but until then there would be little food here. Piringa knew he might have more luck by investigating the deep creeks, where high boulders and sweet water may have protected something edible. But before he could make off to the north, he spied a pale tuft of fur snagged on a dead bush. Slowing to a trot and then a walk, he reached his muzzle. He snorted - another brumby, a mare!

He knew nearly all the herds would have scattered in the fire, some would have made it and some not. He lamented the loss of the two fabulous fillies who had been traveling with him, but there was safety in numbers in times like this. The mare might go wandering for days in search of food and not find any, or she might even know where some was. Piringa was in truth yearning for a companion, after so long with no one but the bones of dead brumbies to call company. He lifted his head and whistled, ears pricked for the sound of a reply. Moving off with his nose to the ground, he followed the trail of hair in what was hopefully the direction of the mare, occasionally lifting his head to gaze up ahead.

There, standing out against the dark landscape was a pale creamy rump and flowing white tail. Throwing up his head joyfully and flicking his long forelock out of his eyes, Piringa called out to her - hoping she would not run. The thought of collecting a herd had barely crossed his mind since the fire, and though it resurfaced here, he was just as interested in finding another horse, another survivor.

Jogging to catch up, he flicked his ears around in case there might be others nearby. He doubted it - horses travelling by themselves was far more common at present, and there had been no indication from her tracks, fur or scent that she was being accompanied by another. Coming to a halt some distance from her in case she was one of those mares who liked to bite, he whickered a little greeting to her. She was rather lovely, a silver perhaps? Though Piringa’s dam had hated silvers, he shared none of her prejudices. After all, what stallion in his right mind would refuse a creamy’s company?

[sooty]

Her ears were flicking back and forth as she trotted through the black land, ever listening for the sound of one approaching. She had grown to be flighty at times, predators easily spotted her, stallions made a bee line towards her and not all were nice enough or good looking enough and then there was man which was a whole other story.

Through the wind travailed a sound which made her stop dead in her tracks, sending a bit of black ash flying around her. She swung her elegant head around and her brown eyes steered out into the barren land looking for what had made the sound or who had made the sound. She stretched out her neck her quivering nostrils sniffing at the air trying to find the scent of the owner of the call. Who were they? Where were they?

She snorts and shakes her head lifting a foreleg to paw at the ground once in slight impatience. After waiting a few moments she tosses her head and turns back around and jumps forward back into her high steeped trot. Her ears kept flicking backwards listening for them and every now and then she swung her head back and steered behind her waiting for the caller to emerge.

When she is looking forward again she hears the call again and when she swings her head back this time her brown eyes fall upon the frame of another horse. She slows up and prances around in a little circle to face the approaching horse. She lifts up her head and fleers her nostrils sniffing at the air to take in the scent of the horse approaching her as she looks over their nice white body.

She feels tingles running down her spin as the scent registers as a stallion, now that is always more exciting than meeting another mare. Her eyes are wide as she watches him approaching. She had not seen one move like him before, the way he held himself the way he moved his legs. It was rather captivating he had to be one of the most stunning looking stallions she had come across in a long time.

The creamy mare stood very still as she watched only her coat twitching now and then. When he stopped she knew it was now up to her to make the next move. With flicks her head to the side sending her mane and forelock dance around her head and then she jumps forward into her prancing trot.

She carries on up to him slowing to a halt in front of him. She wasn’t going to hurt him, she was more of a flirt she didn’t fully understand the be overly mean to the stallion, maybe tease him a little but don’t drive him away especially one that looks like him and could be carrying such beautiful genes. She extends her neck out, her nostrils fleered as she rests her muzzle just in front of the stallions breathing deeply in his scent and then breathing out her own onto him.

She then pulls her head back with a little squeal but she does not strike out at him she just dances back a little bit and swishes her tail around. She tosses her head and then looks out from under her thick white forelock at him with a cheeky look on her face. She was excited to meet someone has handsome as him, had her feeling a little bit like a young filly again and with no one else here to see her like this she could let herself let out that young filly feeling.

[Ehetere]

The creamy turned to face him as he got closer, and Piringa was pleased to see interest in her warm eyes. He needed no further encouragement, and pawed and pranced, arching his neck so his mane would fall like a waterfall from the crest of his neck. Piringa was a show off, and he knew full well that he was handsome thanks to the stream of compliments from his dam. He also knew full well how to use that beauty when needed.

It seemed his dancing steps had done the trick, for after a few still moments the creamy mare sprang forward, doing a dance of her own. She came to halt in front of him, and the colt’s dark tipped ears twitched nervously. She was bold, but it seemed not violent, as she extended out her neck towards him. Piringa met her soft muzzle eagerly, wide nostrils drinking in her scent. Oh how good it was to find another horse again!

The mare squealed and sprang back, causing the stallion to half rear in case he needed to avoid any stray hooves. She hadn’t lashed out though, and Piringa watched with bright eyes as she danced about, tempting him forward. Who was he to resist?

He trotted towards her, unable to understand his mother’s damnation of creamies. She had said that silvers were overrated and unsightly creatures only loved for their colour, but Piringa simply had to disagree. This filly here was lovely and seemed to like him. Returning to prancing on the spot, he called her so he might find more out about her, despite the longing in his blood to race her to the Ramsheads themselves. Still shifting his weight from one side to the other, unable to contain all his energy, Piringa reached out for her again hoping to help her rid what was left of her winter coat.

“What do they call you?” he asked, tail still pricked in excitement. He made a conscious effort to arch his neck, knowing that he looked different in doing so than other brumbies. He wanted to impress her, so she might travel with him, at least for a while. “Are you a silver?”

[sooty]

Her eyes almost seemed to sparkle with excitement as she watched the stallion lift himself off of the ground. She loved watching the power of a stallion. The way their muscled move under their skin and his seemed to move nicely under his coat. She liked her studs strong, tough, able to withstand the harsh environment and to pass that onto their foals so the more tests of strength and ability she could see the better. As she watched him come down she thought how she would love to watch this magnificent steed spar and really see him move.

She tossed her head around in a circle and pranced on the spot, lowering her head to study his legs, the way he moved as he continued the dance towards her. He had such fine legs, some of the finest she had seen. They made her want to race him, see how fast he was or how long he could run for as he looked like he could outrun some of the best with those stunning legs.

Her eyes travelled up from his legs as she raised her head, looking over his chest and then up his neck back to his head. His head was different to most brumbies she had seen it was not big and bulky and defiantly not ugly like some stallions heads. No his was elegant, almost beautiful. Most would think that not good in a stallion as the mare was meant to be the beautiful one but she felt herself drawn to beauty she was no mare to be seen travelling with a plain stallion. She also always thought ahead to foals even if it never went there they of course had to have a beautiful sire to complement what they would get from their dam.

She flicked her tail over her back making a slightly slapping sound as it hit her and a few more strands of white fur fell to the ground. She would be happy to get rid of her coat and look beautiful once more this patchy thing was not her style. With a soft snort she began to match his prance, lifting each leg in time with his creating a proper partner dance. As she pranced her body began to move sideways across to the stallion who looked like he was dying to touch her. She was almost dying to touch him but she would never let him know that a leady could never let no stallion know that.

She felt his muzzle brush against her and following it came an itch, that damn winter coat was itching her like mad. Her skin began to quiver where he had touched her and she started to long for a good scratching. Grooming was a good way to get rid of the itch but he was speaking and now was not the time for a grooming session.

Her ears pricked up and she looked at him eagerly as he asked her who she was. She snorted softly and flicked her head slightly to remove her forelock from her eyes before she replied. “ Alinga.” She replies simply with one word. She was a bit distracted by the way he was holding himself, she had not noticed his neck before but now she. The creamy mare took a step towards him and reached out her muzzle to him, wanting to stroke it down his neck but she was unsure of what he would think of that space invasion.

So again she tosses her head and dances away, light on her hooves not making a sound even though she picked her hooves up so very high as she moved. When his words reached her again she turned her head and looked over her rump at him. This was not a question she got asked often, maybe most just assumed, or they saw her on the wrong year. Her legs stop and she pauses for a moment, completing her answer to the question. Then when her mind is made up she slowly turns around and walks up to the stallion, swaying ehr body a little as she does.

When she gets to him she goes past him a little and then stops with her muzzle just past his head before speaking to him again in her more flirty tone, the one she usually used around stallions. “It depends. Some years are am as creamy and silver as any silver. Other years I am as golden as the sun I am named after.” She flicks her head again then picks herself up into her trot again and trots a circle around the stallion every few paces she would lean in and brush her body up against his ever so lightly.

When she reaches his head again she stops her movement. “Some say my sire was a silver, he was defiantly not the enraged black that my dam lived with anyway but I never met my true sire, he was a like the wind, he came and went and normally no one ever saw him. I guess that is what most true silvers are like. So call me a silver if you wish but I am be. Beautiful, yes, stunning colour, of course but silver, maybe.” She then tilts her head to the side and looks at him, wondering what he thought of that. She had found some loved her for her colour and possible heritage, others despised her for it like the black stallion her dam lived with had despised her and any silver that may have been her sire.

[Ehetere]

Piringa couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as she looked over him, seemingly as impressed with he as he was with her. Though he had vague memories of his foalhood where his mother had spoken of the beauty he would one day posses, these thoughts had near been forgotten over the years. Who would have thought that he would receive such looks and attentions from a creamy! He pricked his dark tipped ears excitedly when she gave her name and made a few bright dancing steps - she seemed to like when he danced. He stilled, barely daring to breath as she stretched her muzzle out... and then she was away again!

Piringa threw his head up again, shaking his long forelock out of his eyes. The mare danced like a delicate filly tempting a young stallion, and right now he certainly felt like one. There were memories of the past, when the bush was thick and dense and a young pale stallion could play in the southern pastures with a pair of roan touched fillies.

This sobered him for a moment, and Alinga looked back over her back at him. His question seemed to have struck her as odd, and he hoped he had not offended her. He had never met a silver filly, only knew that they were pale cream, almost as the snow with pale manes like moonlight. She surely fit this build, have the ethereal quality that a silver descendant of Thowra must posses?

He breathed a sigh of relief when she did not turn tail, walking with slow swinging strides back over. She stopped, reaching her head a little past his as if to whisper in his ear. Her voice had a warmth to it that he certainly did not disapprove of - quite the opposite. Piringa was not sure whether he was disappointed or not to hear that she was not a silver. A golden mare whose coat changed like the weather - who surely possessed all the beauty of any silver brumby! It was all very exciting, not unlike how his own coat became snow white in winter. He would have remarked on it, were he not distracted by her trotting around him, brushing her soft hide against his.

“I doubt any would deny you were of silver heritage,” he agreed, “My mother says I was born of the wind itself, sometimes I think I can hear it whispering to me. What land of beauty produced one such as you? I call the high mountains and the Ramsheads my home, and I was returning there after the fire.”

Piringa paused, barely stopping himself from asking her to come with him. He did not want to rush into anything, to put her off or scare her away. While he would have settled for the company of any other after his solitude travels, this was certainly far more preferable.

[sooty]

She stood still, her body held as tall as she could hold it and proud with her tail slightly lifted, nothing like the tail of the stallion next to her though. She did though take pride in her looks she had ever since she noticed she was beautiful and not as plan as some of the other fillies not to be vain or anything but the looks from colts and then stallions had never told her any different.

Her eyes studied him for his reaction. She was guessing he wanted her to be a silver what a prize that would be to have a silver mare running with him, would he settle for the fact that she was only silver every first year though she thought her golden coat was just as stunning as her pale cream one. She lifts her head up a little bit; he didn’t seem bothered by her possible silver speech. As a filly she had always claimed it in her creamy years and always dreamed of joining a silver herd but the only silver stallion she ever saw only watched her, he never came for her so she was left to assume that he was her sire.

Her ears flick around on top of her head as she listens to him. She nods her head swiftly at his first words. Beautiful, intelligent, just like any silver. Though this stallion was also beautiful. His colour was more common of course but it looked good on him it was not a plain and boring gray he was almost all white with some darker points and his build set him apart from any stallion she had seen and to her that made him a prize to be running with.

She began to walk a little again as he finished his next lot of speech. He was local which was good because these lands were new and strange to her and a handsome guide never went a miss. She turns her head to look at him as she speaks. I come from down south, the Quambat Flat was where I was born. I stayed there and had never been up this way until I decided there has to be a bit more to life and snuck off from my stallion to go explore that was a few seasons ago now. I saw the fire burnt land and decided to check it out, I love the reborn land after a fire and wanted to stick around for a bit.” Or maybe forever she thinks, depending how things go.

She tosses her head again turns her whole body around to face the stallion, to look into his face. She was still so fascinated by his features and glad that he was the first stallion to come across her because she would not settle for some ugly stallion and she knew with this time of year and her being out in the open it would be hard for her to stay a free mare.

Slowly she takes a few steps towards the stallion, her need to reach out to him once again there. She was trying to resist it but she couldn’t and she stretched out her neck and reached out her muzzle and fleered and quivering nostrils to him. Her soft dark muzzle gently caressing his neck, feeling the muscle in it, sending shivers down her spin. She pulls her muzzle back, there was nothing like the feeling of a strong stallion to excite her and make her feel young again. She snorts softly and then springs into her little trot and dances slightly away to the side of him. She couldn’t let herself go in that easy there was still so much fun to be had.

[Ehetere]

Piringa perked his ears forward. Quambat Flat? Yes, he’d come from down that way himself. Though the High Country was his home, he’d fled south from the fire and had somehow ended up many miles from his grazing grounds with little knowledge of the then charred country. His lost herd crossed his mind again, but he still had no way of knowing whether they lived or were one of the sooty heaps of bones he’d passed in his travels. Surely Kiata and Jiba were intelligent enough to have escaped after they were seperated? Both fillies certainly had sense in their heads, so perhaps there was hope.

“Well, if you aren’t heading southwards again soon, perhaps you’d like to see the High Country?” he offered, unusually hesitant in his approach. “I hail from the Ramsheads, and long to be among it’s peaks again.” She hardly seemed the one to scare - Alinga was bold and independant from what he could tell, but maybe she hadn’t come looking for a herd. Regardless of whether she intended to stay, he would do whatever in his power to ensure she travelled with him for as long as she did.

He would have said more only he was distracted with her moving about again, so she was looking at him directly in the face. Alinga seemed to be studying him, judging his every pane as if to determine his worthiness. Piringa once again thanked his lucky stars for his looks, if that was indeed what she was searching for. She reached out, and Piringa stilled, every hair seemingly alive at her touch. Slowy, she ran her muzzle down his neck, the gentle touch of her whiskers tickling his skin.

She sprang away again, and this time Piringa could no longer contain the wild longing in his heart as he sprang after her. The north wind was calling him, calling him to the rugged slopes and endless fields of snowgrass that he remembered of his home in the high mountains. He must return there, and this creamy filly must come with him!

He bumped her on the shoulder with his muzzle, and danced away, always north, barely able to stop himself from breaking into a headlong gallop. “Come! Come away with me!” he called to her, trotting on the spot and arching his neck like his distant Spanish cousins. Oh the boon if she were to refuse him now! She must come with him!

[sooty]

As she danced, her tail floating in the air and her head held high she pondered over his words. Should she go to the Ramsheads with him? She should sort of run with him for now? She had not come this far to find herself stuck in another herd with just any old stallion though this boy did not look like any old stallion. Her heart wanted to run with him, even if just for the fact to run with the wind and travel high to a land she had not seen before. Her head though was weighing things up; she did prefer to think with that smart head of hers.

She fleers her nostrils and snorts as he comes at her but manages to keep her hooves planted on the ground even though she had felt like jumping away from him. She takes a deep breath and holds it, holding his scent into her. She liked the closeness of him, it had been many seasons since she had been close to a stallion and part of her had longed for it for some time now.

When he touches her, her skin begins to twitch, first at the spot where he touched her then around it like a ripple effect across her body. Her eyes follow him as he continues the dance. She loved the way he moved, it was a way she had not seen another move before, so graceful especially for a stallion. For a fleeting moment she thought of the beauty that offspring from the two of them would possess. It only stays a moment before his call reaches her pricked up ears.

It seems once his words reach her the thinking with her head is forgotten. That wild need to run to move from where they have spent too much time fills her and her legs begin to move without her even thinking about it. First they are picked up high as she prances towards him halfway between a walk and a trot. Then with a toss of her head she jumps forward into a rocking tight steeped canter that was barely faster than her first pace.

When she comes up beside him she pauses her forward movement and lifts her weight up in her back legs and tosses her head sending her pure white mane flying around her. As she lowers her forehooves back to the ground she reaches her head out to the stallion next to her. ”Take me to the Ramsheads, show me your world. She wanted to see the high country, see the lands where her ancestors had come from and she wanted to see them with this beautiful stallion.

Her legs dance impatiently on the spot as she waits for him to take to the wind and show her his world, snorting and tossing her head as she does.

[Ehetere]

There were a few tense moments when he thought she might not come. Piringa watched the creamy mare anxiously as she seemed to ponder his request, still managing to look ever so lovely as she did so. The suspense was killing him, and left hanging he barely dared to breathe.

Then she came towards him! Piringa reared and trumpeted his joy to the sky, the joy of a young stallion in his prime, the joy that he may now share with another. He whickered to her as she came to stand beside him, warmth and affection reflected in his tone. None could deny she was anything less than beautiful as she half reared, silver mane flying about her like the spray from a waterfall. Yes, he decided she must be a descedant of the great Silver herd, for she posessed the same wild spirit, that essence that all silver horses must. Piringa often wondered whether he might be descended from them too, as he was acutely aware of the wind’s whispering and calling.

He needed no further encouragement, launching his body into a fast canter, ensuring she could keep up with him. His long legs itched to go faster and faster, but they would remain at the pace of Alinga as the two pale horses raced across the Boggy and away.