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Post by Tiggs on Nov 13, 2011 21:02:08 GMT
Great Ghost of Thowra, Piringa was going to kill him. She had never seen such fury in his eyes. He hit Lark again and again, and the younger stallion could only thrash and retaliate with glancing blows and bites. The water churned around them, a maelstrom, with the two brothers at its centre.
Piringa had never been so enthralling than now when he was alight with his own rage. She wondered if she had picked the wrong brother. She was sure Lark was the one who would eventually be the greater stallion. But seeing Piringa like this, Lark caught by the withers and sure to drown if Piringa so much as shifted his weight, she wasn’t so sure.
Dark visions came to her; the aftermath of the fight. Piringa came high-stepping toward her, pale coat drenched with muddy water. He was magnificent. And in the water behind him he left an unmoving grey shape, barely visible above the water’s choppy surface. Lark. She knew it surely as she knew the next life to bud inside of her would be Lark’s; he was going to die.
Spurred into action, the roan mare plunged into the pool with an almighty roar worthy of any stallion, albeit a slightly higher-pitched one. She came at Lark from the other side of Piringa, aiming a vicious bite at the bridge of the pale stallion’s nose. Rearing up, she planted her knees on the side of Lark’s chest and clamped her teeth down on his crest. The two had fought before, but not like this. The mare checked none of her blows, hitting the stallion with all of her strength. Compared to a stallion in his prime, it was laughable, but Lark was still young, and had been beaten badly by Piringa.
Again and again, she kicked at the steely stallion, assaulting his rump with her teeth and driving him forcefully from the pool. Breath heaving, she squealed and stamped her forehooves in the water. “Run. GO! And if you ever come near me or my foal again, I won’t do you the same favour,” she snarled with such menace. There was no snide mocking tone, no sarcasm, it was pure dripping venom.
It seemed at odds for the mare to do it, but by treating Lark with such ferocity, she hoped that she could accomplish two things. One, that Piringa would think he had just saved her again from his brother, and she was glad to see him go. And the other, to save Lark. If she reasoned with Piringa to let him go, there was no way he would believe she didn’t sympathise with him. The white stallion would cast her out, perhaps even find out that her yearling filly and the foal to come were not his. No, attacking Lark like this was the only way she was sure to get what they both wanted; a protector for Jiba, and mercy for Lark.
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Post by Ehetere on Nov 15, 2011 17:10:18 GMT
Lark screamed and screamed, feeling the strength beginning to fade from his limbs. And still the white devil held his grip. How could it all end like this? A new wave of determination flooded his body, or was it adrenaline? The grey stallion’s one virtue seemed to be his complete and utter dogged determination, stubbornness persistence and unwillingness to simply give up and be drowned. Lark may well have been the most unlucky colt in all the high country, but to date nothing could quite kill him. He was always there, always came back. Kind of like a cockroach.
With one almighty effort he threw his body skywards, rearing high and ripping Piringa’s jaws from their death hold in a sickening riping of skin and muscle. Piringa was not going to have his victory taken from him then though, a shove sending the steel grey turned black by the water back towards its muddied surface. When he came up for air again spluttering and gasping for breath, he was surprised to hear a high pitched roar coming from Jiba. His heart leapt - she had come to her senses! She was going to attack the great white brute, chase him off and then she would join him by his side. And then he would recover, and come back to defeat his brother for the injuries he had sustained, and then he and his roan mare would some day rule the whole high country.
But Lark was indeed the most unlucky colt in all the High Country. Nothing could ever happen so simply.
The roan mare reared high, snapping at Piringa causing him to fling his head back in surprise at the mare’s rage. Triumph soared in the steel grey’s chest, only to be brought crashing down like the heavy mare on his back. He actually stumbled - half from shock, half from the fact that Jiba likely weighed more than his enraged brother. He cried out in betrayal and pain as she clamped her jaws down on his crest, adding to the pain already emanating all through his body. She proceeded to beat him as hard as the stallion before her, but to Lark it seemed her bites and kicks fell harder. It was too much for the young stallion to take: betrayal after beating after betrayal. He stood there, too stunned and exhausted to fight back, instead using all his energy in keeping himself upright as his wrecked frame took blow after blow of abuse.
Somehow he ended up on the muddied bank of the pool, quite unaware of how he’d got there. All he could feel was pain. Nothing else existed. Except perhaps for the demoness of a mare driving him there with her relentless bites and kicks. Her words stung as much as her blows had - how could she say such things! After she had chosen him over this white poser! That lying, cheating, scheming...
He stumbled away, legs scarcely able to hold him up let alone run. The pain he felt was quickly manifesting itself into rage. Pure, unchecked hatred, for both the white stallion and his grullo mare. Glancing back but once, his eyes for none but the traitor of a mare, he limped off into the scrub - beaten, banished and truly spent.
Piringa looked after the steely stallion, recognising that by not killing him when he could he had made a bad enemy. He may have been in his element, but his brother was still young, inexperienced, not yet fully grown. Piringa felt sure that when the dark colt attained his full strength there would be hell to pay, as he had already proven to be a horse who held a grudge with a long memory. At least after a beating like that the young stallion was likely to think twice before coming near him or his mares any time soon.
Turning his attention on Jiba, he looked her all over searching for any injuries the brute of a colt might have given her. It seemed she’d come away without a scratch, far better off than he. The grey had almost been finished when the mare had unexpectedly stepped in though, so Piringa let it go. He was sore already, and in no mood to put up with the grullo mare’s antics today however, so deciding she was perfectly fine, he dropped his head threateningly and hustled her up, intending to go and pick up their flirtatious offspring and be off. If the two fillies were here, then that meant that Kiata must be nearby.
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Post by Tiggs on Nov 16, 2011 13:09:24 GMT
It was a startling conclusion to come to, but she pitied him, she really did. She watched, inwardly feeling that alien pang of guilt that threatened to unmake her. She wanted to follow. She took one stop forward, amazed that it felt so right. She was making the right descision! Then Piringa was there, his hot muzzle checking her over, moving between her and the space where Lark had disappeared.
The mare squealed and tossed her head, shaking away the idiotic notion to follow. What was she thinking? Lark certainly couldn’t defend her, and here was the great white stallion that could. She let him look her over while she caught her breath. It felt good to be cared for like this, but Jiba was wary of getting to sentimental about the stallion. He could be beaten just as easily as Lark if another better stallion came along.
Jiba found herself responding to the grey stallion for once though, and she nickered, flicking her tail playfully. Her heart lurched as he dropped his head and started to move her. The mare wasn’t scared. What she liked most about Lark was his directness, and now Piringa was displaying these desirable traits. Grunting, the mare complied, albeit slowly so he would have to keep close to keep her moving.
Her tail completely flagged, thoughts of Lark and her attraction for him were pushed away, replaced by her newfound interest in Piringa; a stallion that had proven himself to her. Once they were away from the pool, she nickered to the stallion and came to a stubborn halt. She had to craft this carefully, or Piringa would suspect she had been less than resistant to Lark’s charms.
“Piringa,” she fairly crooned, still a little breathless from the fight, “Wait, let me look at you. That stallion might have killed you! I don’t know how I would have gotten away without you,” her lies were not flawless, and Jiba hoped the heightened tension of the circumstances would cover her bad acting. “We’ve been alone for so long... we didn’t think we’d see you again. When that stallion chased me into the pool, I was sure I never would.”
The mare flicked her tail and she didn’t have to pretend when her nostrils quivered and her scent doubled. The excitement of the fight had likely put her into this state, and either winner would be subjected to the mare’s yearning. She knew without doubt that her next foal would be Lark’s but perhaps there was a slim chance... The roan nickered to her stallion, breaking away from his driving and inviting him for some privacy elsewhere. The yearlings could wait, it wasn’t like they could have wondered off anywhere without her noticing.
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Post by Ehetere on Nov 19, 2011 7:41:08 GMT
Piringa was surprised to find the grullo mare actually acting as though she didn’t hate him for once, so much so it almost stopped him in his tracks. He didn’t think the mare had ever treated him so favorably before, and it was strange and unusual. Was it because he had beaten his brother? Surely not, he’d done that before and she was still her usual stubborn, lazy self. The latter did not seem to be cured, as she trotted slowly in the direction that he wanted, but the friendly nicker and playful behaviour were not an unwelcome addition.
He was not unaware of Jiba’s scent, as she seemed to want to flaunt it about with reckless abandon which might explain her behaviour. However, the pale grey was still smouldering after the raging mood he’d been in during the fight and was not as receptive as he might have otherwise been. She came to an abrupt halt, and refused to budge no matter how hard he tried. Those colts might have hustled the fillies away already, and if they were going to catch up and retrieve them they were going to need to go faster than this.
He eyed the roan mare suspiciously, not sure how to take her tone and her words. Her voice was velvety and sweet, if a little breathless. Despite his confusion and uncertainties about her behaviour, Piringa could not be completely heartless. “Did he hurt you? The fillies?” he asked anxiously, dropping his head a little lower. He was sure she hadn’t seen anything when he’d fussed over her before. He’d have to kill the steel grey if he’d laid so much as a hoof on his herd.
His murderous train of thought was cut short however by the fact he could also not ignore the fact that he was a stallion. His rage was fading fast, and while Jiba’s behaviour and cues royally confused him, he was willing to follow wherever she might lead, all other thoughts pushed aside.
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Post by Tiggs on Nov 19, 2011 13:18:50 GMT
Had Lark hurt her? She thought of the lattice of bites across her rump and shoulders, bruising nips that in comparison to the battle between him and Piringa seemed like gentle caresses. She and Lark had bit and kicked and barged, and she quivered at the memory of it. The younger stallion was forceful and confident, not like the soft grey stallion with his velvet muzzle.
Shaking her head to clear her mind of thoughts of Lark, she concentrated on Piringa, “No,” she replied, reaching out to a rather nasty bite on his shoulder. “He hurt you though...” Lark had done a fair about of damage to the mature stallion, and she knew things would have been different if Lark had those extra few years to come into his full strength. Jiba snorted, realised she was slipping into thoughts of her steely stallion once more. She had Piringa right in front of her, a stallion in his prime, covered in battle wounds of his success and yet visions of Lark still lingered.
No, Lark would get no more of her thoughts today. Piringa was the clear winner here, she needed to make it clear where her loyalties lay. Nickering, the mare gently groomed her stallion, glad that he was finally responding to her properly. He was kind and gentle, and while she would usually cringe at the sugariness, her current state made the touches burn and flare up her instinct for a proud stallion. Sure that the fillies could wait a little longer, Jiba set about greeting her stallion properly and convincing Piringa that she was indeed his loyal mare.
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