Blue and white filly [O]

[Corowa]

The blue roan filly stood alone on the side of the steeply rising spur. Bootoolgah faced west, looking out over the broken country of the Ramshead. Head held higher than usual, her ears tilted forwards, catching the distant crack of a stockwhip.

Bootoolgah started nervously. Stockmen had returned the High Country, driving hundreds of red and white cattle high up into the mountains. Already she had smelt the smoke of their fires down by Dead Horse Gap. The possibility of another brumby drive filled her with horror. It seemed a terrible thing to be captured and made tame, to carry a man on her back as if she had never been free.

With a toss of her head, Bootoolgah turned and trotted back down the slope. There a thick belt of timber that had not been burnt out, and the filly headed for this. The far-off crack of the stockwhip rang out once more over the mountains, and Bootoolgah broke into a canter. Only when the thick trunks of the snowgums closed around her, did the filly stop.

[E!]

The weather was not of the sort that suited Ballima. No, rather he preferred the coolness of winter on his grey hide, preferred the magnificence of snow and rain.. not sunshine and heat. However, it was not up to him to work the weather, nor would he want to. Besides, with the Ramsheads thriving with life, there was so much to explore! He had left his mothers side, as always, to wander off and interest himself with the goings on of the world, dreaming of how things might be if he were older, taller, stronger.. would he be known as Thowra had once been? Or would he blend in to the world as the rest of the known population seemed to? The tales of Thowra and the rest of his family fascinated Ballima, and he hoped only to make a mark on the world as that great horse once had - and he spent most of his days dreaming about it.

Ballima was graceful at this age, despite his long, thin legs attempting to get tangled at every moment, and he was a rather beautiful young thing - with all his fathers grace and build and his dams beauty. The crack of a whip made him start, stopping him in his tracks. His head lifted, nostrils flaring curiously. He had never experienced the terror brought on by men, nor did he want to - unfortunately, he was a curious fellow and couldn't help but hope to perhaps investigate near dead horse hut one day, just to see what the fuss was. The sound of hooves caught his attention, and he watched with interest as a blue roan filly cantered swiftly into the snowgums not too far away.

With a quick check behind him, he followed suit, kicking up his heels and moving gracefully into the thick trunks of the trees. His keen eyes spotted her blue hide between the trees, flanks heaving as if she had run a mile. He approached, large eyes curious. "Hello" he called out, voice as entrancing as his sires had been on that fateful day upon where his dam had been whisked away. What was this young filly so afraid of?

[Corowa]

Bootoolgah’s nostrils flared as they caught an unfamiliar smell on the wind. Her muscles tense, the blue and white filly waited for the inevitable jangle of the bit, the sound of shod hooves striking rock.

The wind moved through the leaves of the snowgums, and the smell came again - stronger this time. Bootoolgah’s nostrils curled with outrage. What was a stallion doing up here so far east of the Ramshead?

A stone clattered nearby, and Bootoolgah froze. A barely grown filly would be no match for a determined stallion. Even so, something made her stay. Ready to turn and bolt at the slightest sign of danger, Bootoolgah stepped carefully out from between the snowgum trunks.

There, only a few yards away, stood a young grey colt. Bootoolgah pinned her ears and scrambled back, surprised by the sight. Where had he come from? The only brumbies she had seen had been a scattered mob of mares led by a huge bay stallion. Perhaps this colt was one of his sons, and yet Bootoolgah could see no resemblance between them.

“What are you doing here?” Bootoolgah snapped. It had been foolish to think this stupid young colt might have been a stockman. Yet her fear had made her bad-tempered, and she glared suspiciously at the grey colt, wondering if she should not just chase him off.

[E!]

Well, it was not the response he had hoped for. The blue roan scrambled back, ears pinned and eyes furious, and her first words to him were not too kind either. Ballima did not know what to think, nor how to respond. He'd always been taught to use kindness and respect when engaging others, and felt a little indignant at not being treated in a similar way. However, never to be deterred nor insulted, for Ballima was too much of a peace maker and dreamer to bother with violence or other such things, he remained at a respectful distance, brown eyes wide with barely concealed curiousity.

"The same thing as you I suppose... Whatever that might be."

The grey colt paused, almost becoming distracted by the sound of a passing currawong. His long ears flicked.

"I'm Ballima, son of Bokara. Who are you and why are you all alone?"

It was not a polite question, but then, Ballima was quite curious as to where this young filly might be headed - an adventure perhaps? Was she being chased by men who wanted her for her pretty blue coat and fiery spirit? He almost wished it, for he dreamed of showing her all his secret hiding spots, if only to brag. He was trying to teach himself to move silently too, as Thowra once did.. but in this, he lacked concentration. His attention flicked back to the filly, watching her with wide, kind eyes so like his sires.

[Corowa]

Bootoolgah tossed up her head and gave a loud snort. Her whole body shook with outrage, and she felt an unusual flash of anger. Bootoolgah had not spent much time in the company of other brumbies, and certainly had not been expecting to run into another young horse this far up into the mountains. Yet something had sprung to life inside of her; a sudden surge of interest that she could not ignore.

“I have nothing to say to you Ballima son of Bokara,” she told him irritably. She watched the grey colt closely in case he came any nearer, knowing he might try and drive her out into the open. “I am nearly at my prime, while you are nothing more than a foolish yearling. Perhaps you should return in a few years when you are strong enough to offer a real challenge.”

Bootoolgah flicked her tail dismissively. She had no interest in a half-grown yearling colt. While he was rather attractive with his fine head and steel-grey hide, he was clearly rather stupid. Bootoolgah knew he would probably lose her to the first stallion that challenged him. Perhaps even to that heavy bay who made his bimble only several miles south.

The filly layed back her ears at the thought. She had no idea where this colt had come from or with whom he ran. With a sharp feeling of dread, Bootoolgah realised she had stayed here too long. What if those stockmen had followed Ballima, had seen his tracks and decided to give chase? She felt suddenly afraid. How could they possibly escape from a stockman and his horse?

[E!]

Ballima watched curiously as Bootoolgah shook, her lovely body tense and nervous. She seemed angry, but frightened and nervous at his presence - a strange combination to the young colt, whom had not seen such emotion except for when his sire thought he might lose one of his beloved mares. As it was, the kind bay stallion was frantic at present, for Ballima's own dam had gone missing. Ballima of course was too interested in the affairs of everyone else around him to worry much about his own family troubles.

His only reaction to Bootoolgah's next words was surprise. Surprise at her resistance to speak with him, and surprise as to why that might be - he certainly was not thinking about mares or fillies at this point in time.. he had so much to do! He had adventures to pursue! A herd came with responsibility and other such confusing things. No, he had not come to speak with the pretty blue roan filly to obtain her. His ears flicked to and fro, eyes patiently watching Bootoolgah, as if she might give an explanation to why she had said such curious things.

When none came, and the filly looked as she might flee from fright, he spoke again, voice light and friendly - if a little distant. "But I don't want to offer a challenge.. or anything of the sort. I only wished to see what you are doing, and perhaps join in with you. It gets quite boring staying with the herd." He paused, head tilting a little as he watched the smooth flight of an eagle far above them.

Then he spoke again, quite hurriedly, for he did not want to give the filly cause for more anger and frustration. "Its not that I wouldn't want you, you're very lovely, but I have so much to do.. I wouldn't consider disgracing a filly such as yourself before I have made a name and history for myself that she could be proud of.." Ballima trailed off, large brown eyes full of electricity and excitement. The day would come when he made the bush speak of him in excitement and reverie as they had once spoken of Thowra.

"So will you spare me your name? I'd like to remember our encounter, it might be of importance one day" The young colt stood a little taller, raising his handsome young face regally, hoping that perhaps she might stay a little longer - else he'd have to follow her, and see what adventures she would bring.

[Corowa]

The colt stood his ground. Bootoolgah stamped her foot, astonished that he continued to refuse to move off. One of her flattened ears came forward, and the whites slowly went out of her eye. She studied him closely, thinking he might one day grow to become a stallion worthy to be her mate.

Yet Bootoolgah did not wish to stay with him until that day had come. She wanted to head south, to discover what stallions ran with their mobs in the country of her birth. Perhaps there, she might finally find a stallion who would claim her as his own.

There was a challenge in the colt’s lifted head, his mane and tail rippling out behind him. If there were any stockmen watching, it would be impossible to resist the temptation of the grey colt. Even she held her breath at the sight. Did he not see how attractive he was to men and brumby alike? Did he not realise the danger?

Bootoolgah softly whinnied, urging the colt down into the cover of the snowgums. “My name is Bootoolgah,” she told him, and she felt herself trembling as she spoke. “The mare who raised me, said that I had been sired by Tingara himself. She said that the bones of my mother lay bleaching somewhere down in the Brolga’s country.”

[Tiggs]

Ghosting alongside the cattle, the brown and white stallion kept his senses alert for the presence of a bay mare. He knew the men might have her, but again, his close brush with man had been fruitless. Peeling away unnoticed, he trotted through the cover of the bush and up to higher ground. The men seemed focussed on their cattle, but he was taking no chances. Willunga might have piqued his interest in the men, but he was not fooling enough to get captured on just her word that there was more to it than whips and cruelty.

Climbing the Ramshead, he kept to the fringes of trees where he could, only crossing the open when he was sure he was far enough from the men not to draw their attention. Up ahead, he saw a steely grey yearling. The colt was instantly dismissed as a potential threat, and the mature stallion continued on his way toward the string of snowgums that he knew heralded the presence of another track that would lead him across the Ramsheads and down to safer territory.

It wasn’t until he was level with the yearling that he noticed the mottled shape of a filly in the treeline. Snorting, Talgarno realised the wind had been blowing her scent away from him, and she was hidden so well that he hadn’t seen her until now.

His ears flicked back, finding that he tolerated the presence of the colt less now that there was a mare nearby. The yearling was no threat to him, but fillies could be fickle creatures and she might not appreciate him driving the colt off. She looked too young for it, but the colt could be hers he supposed. Tossing his head, dark mane flying, he ducked into the cover of the snowgums and nickered throatily to the filly.

Pushing through the thick undergrowth, the curious stallion approached her, keeping one ear on the colt at all times. “I don’t think it’s safe here,” he said the still mostly-obscured mare, “Men are passing through the valley below.”

[E!]

His face revealed how ridiculously pleased he was that she seemed to be warming to him, his young eyes blinking in pleasure as she ushered him into further hiding. He followed without complaint, his stride graceful and smooth but full of pent up excitement and the tireless energy of the young. Bootoolgah. How lovely. It suited the flighty mare somehow. Ballima stretched his head forward, eyes wide as she explained her heritage. Sired by Tingara! He stood quietly, one hoof slightly raised off the ground, his ears pricked high, large eyes shining in excitement. Tingara indeed! A soft breeze brushed his nostrils, wafting the scent of a stallion toward him, but he paid no mind to it, after all, they were speaking about the daughter of a legend here!

Ballima lowered his hoof, noticing signs of the mares heritage now that he knew it. She was built for speed, her delicate frame and deep chest showing off that fact. "Now that you mention it, you look as if the wind had borne you himself!" His voice was breathy, excited, and strangely enough for him, a little nervous. "You're beautiful.." he breathed, not embarrassed in the least bit. Then came that scent again, and Ballima looked up to see a stallion coming toward them. He wasn't frightened - he didn't see himself as any threat to the bay, he was only a yearling after all. He felt a little protective of Bootoolgah, if only because he wanted to hear more of her heritage and what she had experienced, but not enough to get himself into a mess of testosterone and fighting.. such things just did not appeal to him in the slightest.

He watched curiously as the bay pushed himself through the undergrowth, speaking directly to Bootoolgah. He flicked his ears toward the bay, speaking up "Men? Did you see them?" Ballima spoke without fear, but was careful not to appear threatening - he was only curious.. he'd never seen a man close up, and this might be his chance. Of course, he wanted to know more about Bootoolgah, too. So perhaps the men could wait.

[Corowa]

The colt followed her into the cover of the snowgums. Bootoolgah watched him closely out of the corner of her eye. At mention of Tingara’s name, the colt grew very still. His interest in her sire filled the filly with an irrational anger. Did he think her nothing more than some prize to be won? Bootoolgah snorted. Stupid colt. Let Ballima believe what he would, for she had no intention of staying with him.

A stone clattered, and Bootoolgah swung her head around. A brumby stepped neatly out of the snowgums. He was oddly-coloured, bay with a splash of white on his shoulder. The flash of white confused her, and Bootoolgah propped and shied away.

The presence of this bay stallion consumed her, and the filly felt the heat rising in her blood. This was a stallion in his prime, every line of his body emanating raw power and strength. Yet Bootoolgah noticed none of this. She heard only his words, understood their meaning at once.

Bootoolgah froze. Her ears twitched nervously, and the insides of her nostrils flared red. That there should be stockmen so close! A cold sweat broke out all down her back, and she could feel herself shaking now, gripped by panic.

“Stockmen, in the valley below?” Bootoolgah asked fearfully, peering out through the leathery snowgum leaves. The whole bush seemed so still and silent and then she heard it, the bawling of cattle, the crack of stockwhips, and shouts of stockmen. With a frightened snort, the filly backed further into the overhanging branches. A stockman on a fresh horse could easily run down a brumby, no matter how fast.