Welcoming Spring [O]

[Rivre]

Balaroo dropped his head to graze, choosing to ignore the sharp words of the one in his company, his wounds stung him but his pride felt a solid hit too - a mare? What kind of filly went around assuming all and offering nothing? It didn't seem a sensible or legitimate way of earning others affections, so he chose not to dote on her as he may have done if she were kind-hearted or even conversational. The shadowy nook was welcome and he made his way slowly into the impression where the grass grew richer, overhung by trees and obscuring his unusual coat. It seemed his colour alone would make him enemies in this strange northern country. The chatter of the gang gangs recently awoken covered any sound that the stallion made as he grazed his way across the tor, sometimes in plain sunlight, mainly in shadow. He tried to ignore the greys presence as much as he could, but he sometimes gazed in her direction to see whether she were still there, uncaring really whether she stayed or left.

After making himself as sore as he was, Balaroo was no longer in any mood to tolerate nasty creatures and the sarcasm that had practically dripped off Coreen's words had stung him even more. He was a young stallion and pride was the foundations of his belief in himself. Maybe he would go in search of the supposed king of this country, and prove whatever notions others had of him wrong. He was decent the majority of the time and always to any mares he befriended, but they were usually eloquent and had some manners at least. This mare openly scoffed at her own flesh and blood, no matter how distantly related.

occ; Sorry Tiggs xD Didn't leave much for you to go on, but Bal is in a mood because of his 'war wounds'.

[Tiggs]

The victor practically deflated at her rebuff, and she smirked in satisfaction as he left her. To abuse a good cliché – if he couldn’t handle the heat, he shouldn’t stand in the fire. Coreen had a sharp tongue, and if the stallion couldn’t even bring himself to retort, then he was hardly worth her time.

The grey mare grazed for a long while, watching the golden stallion out of one eye as he skipped in and out of view between the granite tors. She hoped he regretted leaving; covered in bites and bruises and not even a filly to show for it. Huffing, Coreen picked up her dainty head and threw a glance over at the stallion where he grazed.

The sulking stallion was still nibbling at the grass, the sunlight of the strengthening day making him almost glow. He was an intriguing colour to be sure, but if the poor boy was scared off by a snide mare after a resolute win, she dared to think how he would handle losing. He was almost as bad as Lark!

Blowing out air in a snort, Coreen whinnied and spun on her heel. She disappeared from view briefly, reappearing as she made her away down the scree slope with nimble feet. The stallion could resume his moping in peace; there were probably more interesting brumbies elsewhere that could handle a little teasing.