Heat {Kolya}

[Ehetere]

The breeze blew softly across Dead Horse Ridge, accompanied by a chorus of rustling grass and gum leaves. The small grey filly lifted her dainty head, breathing in the sweet scents of summer, noting with a flick of her ear the lingering odour of smoke. Somewhere down below man would have his huts and his tame horses, probably lulling about resting in this sort of sleepy heat. She was almost unconcerned with the threat of capture, perhaps not as much as she should be.

Though it was clear the young filly was of finer blood than your average brumby, she doubted very much if men were to be coming hunting for such a small filly as she appeared from the distance. Besides, she fancied herself swift and stealthy enough to escape if some were to come galloping in her direction. Though she was in plain sight, her grazing spot had a perfect panorama view of the surrounding landscape - it would be impossible to sneak up on her without significant forewarning. She was no fool, and had learnt her mother’s teachings well.

Relaxing her posture, she returned to the task of grazing, enjoying her freedom away from her mother and the herd. So far the young filly had travelled to the south of the High Country, building hidden muscle on her lithe frame. Her whole appearance was dainty like a snow daisy, with a rapidly fading coat and a greying face. She was well on the way to being as white as her dam by the next spring, and perhaps even more beautiful. And thanks to her mother, the little grey filly knew this all too well.

[Tiggs]

Kolya was not as cautious as the grey filly. If he knew that the ridge was in plain sight of the man’s haunt, he didn’t seem to care. He was a rich brown in colour, with darker legs and face. Unlike the white cloud of the filly on top of the ridge, he blended more with the brown and green grasses. He might have even been stealthy if he put some thought into it.

As it was, Kolya was a proud colt, full of the confidence of youth. The dangers of man and stallion alike hardly fazed him, and so he loped across the ridge, slowly climbing without a thought to the humans across the gap. On reaching the top, he stopped and snorted, tossing his head and kicking up his hooves in a rambunctious buck. He squealed, whinnied and bucked again. He had a lot of energy to burn, and cavorting about the High Country hardly drained it.

Turning, he saw the filly. Head raised and tail flagged, his mottled nostrils quivered in curiosity. She was a dainty filly, her proportions almost opposite to his. Where his legs were coming to be short and stocky in comparison to his deep chest, her legs were slim and long, her chest narrow. Her face was dished and his nose was straight, broad and roman.

Squealing, he half-reared and came prancing toward her, acting as if he were a powerful stallion rather than just a colt with big ambitions. She was alone, she was young, and to Kolya, this made her his and his alone. Without even an introduction, he trotted around her and tried to herd her. He had no specific destination in mind, but herding mares was what stallions were supposed to do. He reached out daringly as if to nip her dusky rump. What a prize he had found! Luck was shining on him today.

[Ehetere]

Presently there came the sound of a stallion’s cry, accompanied by the distinct sound of a horse climbing rather carelessly up the slopes of the ridge. Dulloora pricked her ears curiously, scenting the refreshing breeze. She’d come across a good many colts and stallions in her travels, sometimes spending time with them; a day, a week a season. None had impressed her enough to call them her stallion yet. Sadly for most there was nothing they could do about it: she could melt away like a ghost in the dead of night with no warning or indication that she might be going.

It was this arrogant self confidence in her ability to be independant and have her own choice in the matter that resulted in her dipping her nose to nibble at the grass again, slyly looking out for this mysterious stallion’s approach out of the corner of her eye.

He was certainly a handsome creature - as muscly as she was lithe, with a bulky powerful frame and noble roman face. His coat was a dusky brown, similar to that which Dulloora had been at her birth. His skin was flecked pink, and there were a few curious specks of white dotted over his shiny hide. His performance did not go unappreciated, with the little filly watching with guilty pleasure the muscles as they worked beneath his coat.

Finally it seemed he noticed her - it had taken him longer than she would have liked. Clearly she should have been the one thing that stood out immediately, regardless of her coat colour. His reaction was far more satisfying - his dark eyes brightened and his tail flagged with excitement. Yes, that was more like it. Half lifting her head so her rapidly lengthening mane fell across her neck, she raised her tail as she’d seen her mother and father do and whickered a little greeting.

It seemed he needed no further encouragement, continuing with his display of power, all of which was lapped up appreciatively by the grey filly. Her stallion should be worthy of standing next to a filly such as her, and this stallion would certainly be handsome enough to. She could see it now, how his noble features would only compliment and accentuate her refined features. Quickly she discovered that his behaviour would need some work, as the young stallion immediately made to try and hustle her away. Simply planting her hooves where they were, she chose to ignore this display as inexperience and eagerness to call her his own. The first thing a stallion had to learn if he was to keep her in his herd, was that she was the one in charge.

While she could excuse the ridiculous herding behaviour, when she caught the sight of him reaching out to nip her, the filly’s delicate petal like ears switch back to lie against her neck as she squealed furiously and kicked out ruthlessly. Who did he think he was - he could give her scars, and that was simply not tolerable! Abruptly swinging her rump around so she was facing him, she fixed him with a glare that suggested that he shouldn’t try such foolishness again. As quickly as it had come, the dark mood that had gripped her features vanished, taken by the wind, returning the little filly to her usual state of apparent fragility and innocence. Pricking her ears forward, she returned to examining the stallion all over, still liking what she saw, keeping an eye out for any further silly tricks he might like to pull.

[Tiggs]

With an indignant squeal, the colt pulled away from her kick, alerted by the setting of her ears so that her hooves only grazed him. He took a few steps back, his own ears flicking back to show his displeasure.

No sooner had her little outburst started, she had turned toward him and fixed him with a pleasant gaze. The sudden change confused the colt, and he tilted his head suspiciously. Fillies! There was no anticipating them.

Snorting, the colt tossed his head, holding it high and out of reach as he trotted around her again. This time he did not try to nip her, but he moved in cautiously to her flank and pushed with his shoulder. He wasn’t being overly boisterous, but he did want to get her moving. Suddenly the openness of the ridge meant more when there was a filly involved.

As a colt, the capturing and keeping of fillies was a fickle business. There was no way he could hold a filly against a full grown stallion and he’d been forced to leave fillies behind at the arrival of a larger stallion before. He always put up a fight, but he wasn’t too stupid not to know when he was beaten, no matter how bitter he was about it.

The pretty little filly might be resistant, but she showed no signs of being nervous. She was just being wilful. He prodded his warm broad muzzle against her withers and gave her another push toward the worn brumby track that led down the opposite side of the ridge.

Up close, he could see just how dainty she was. They must be about the same age, but he was a great deal heavier. While his coat had a few spots of white, hers was finely flecked as if the tiniest pieces of snow had settled evenly all over her body. Her curiously curved face was much lighter, and even her mane and tail were streaked with white. He had to admit, she was a well built filly, but that didn’t give her the excuse to be contrary in his mind.

[Ehetere]

The smokey colt seemed confused by her behaviour, but really what did he expect? While some fillies needed to be led for lack of sense in their silly heads, Dulloora was clever, clever enough to look after herself. As far as she was concerned, a stallion’s only purpose was to lavish attention on her. Why else go to the trouble of putting up with their nonsense in the first place?

He lifted his head, wary of any further kicks and other forms of retaliation. Good, then he didn’t have all rocks for brains at least. He seemed to insist on trying to herd her though, and Dulloora was in no hurry to leave. Here there was good grazing and cover was only a short dash away so why the rush? She hadn’t considered the colt’s concerns about keeping her, or that he might not have the same speed her lithe frame posessed.

He nudged her withers again, though not unkindly, Dulloora was becoming a little irritated. Snapping in his direction, she stamped about and fussed, throwing a slight tantrum, completely unmindful to any attention she might be attracting. At least the other stallions she’d come across seemed to be interested in meeting her first!

Shooting him a glare, she glanced down at the brumby track as she danced away from him. He wanted to go did he? In a rush to get her away with him? Well, then hurrying he would get. With a buck and a nip, she abruptly shot off down the slope at a reckless pace, calling over her shoulder for the stallion to follow. It was no skin off her back if he did not, there were no shortage of colts, though this one was more handsome than most.

[Tiggs]

The vocal colt squealed again as she snapped and moved away from him. The dusky filly seemed to be ignoring his commands, and proceeded to make a scene. Ears flicking back, but not quite pinned, Kolya snorted at her to stop it. She was moving away from him, but towards the track! Yes, yes... That gleam in her eyes just before she turned away... No, no, no!

She took off like a lightning bolt, dashing down the track with amazing speed. He was sorely tempted to let her go, but his stubbornness and that tempting call of hers saw him crashing onto the path after her.

The slope was steep in spaces, and not meant to be cantered on. Kolya cut corners more than once, ploughing through the low bushes and pushing himself into a gallop on the straighter parts. But no matter what he did, and how hard he tried, the filly was far ahead and still pulling away!

He called imperiously after her, dropping to a more sustainable speed. There was no chance he would keep up with her, not with his bulk and her apparent affinity for these tight and winding tracks.

Throwing up his head, Kolya came to a dead stop and cried out after her again. He stood stubbornly on the single-width pathway, pawing the ground with one striped dusty hoof. She would come back to him. If not, he would follow her scent and start this whole dance again. Kolya was not a patient colt, but while there was a pretty filly in the vicinity, he fully intended to make her his.

[Ehetere]

Down and down she went, almost forgetting the colt in pursuit as she pushed herself to the limits of her flexibility and speed, recklessly hurtling along the path and around bends, far faster than she should. She flicked her delicate ears to hear the sounds of a crashing bashing chase behind her - too far behind. This colt was not as swift as she by far, which was almost a shame. Dulloora would have dearly loved for her stallion to be as swift as the wind. She had seen it in his frame though that he was not a beast built for speed, perhaps more for strength and muscle. She supposed these were more important in a stallion anyway.

Slackening her pace so she may not lose him completely, she came to a skidding halt at his call, sending dust and rocks flying every which way. The grey filly had half a mind to leave - leave him there calling after her. She knew that her stallion must be worthy of her, her equal, able to stand at her side. But while this stallion seemed unable to match her for speed, she was lured back by his looks.

Trotting slowly back up the path, she rounded the bend to spot the dusky coloured colt standing, waiting. Pausing, one dainty forehoof raised and eyes sparkling with amusement, she eyed him up. If he wanted to be pushy, she would leave. And then return to taunt and tease him, and then disappear once more. She was determined to have things her way, or to play her games until she did. Unfortunately for any poor stallion she set her sights on, she likely had the tools and skills to get away with it too.

Coming forward slowly, deliberately, she locked her gaze on the colt and turning her flirt on full force. She didn’t have the instinctual musky allure of a mare in heat, but the filly had just about everything else going for her. She tossed her mane as she moved, sashaying her tail from side to side, making it move like silk in the wind. She would make this colt hers.

Coming to a stop just in front of him, making sure it would be very difficult for him to try and herd her on the narrow track, she snorted in his direction. “Are you going to stop and meet me now?” she asked, voice developing a purr. ”Why don’t you tell me your name? Mine’s... Dulloora.”

[Tiggs]

He was sure she was gone, and he started continuing on the path just to find his way out of the forsaken overgrown place when he heard the clatter of hooves coming back up the path towards him. With an indignant squeal, the dun colt did not seem so pleased to see the grey mare. As she came forward to meet him, he lifted up his head and rolled his eyes, his coat lathered down his neck and flanks from the run and his frustration.

She was luring him, teasing him, like he was some sort of toy. He hated it, and he could so easily fall for it. Snorting and tossing his dark head repeatedly he let her come, undecided whether to approach her or abandon her because of her blatant mocking.

Kolya had never had a mare before (and for all intents and purposes, she was his). His father had not exactly been there all the time but when he wasn’t off exploring, Prisma was herding his mares between grazing spots. All Kolya knew what to do was this, and whatever else his instincts told him. This filly inspired no other instincts, and so he returned to plan A: herd her.

Her sweet tone was not completely lost on him, and he all but lapped it up though his serious expression never faltered. She looked the part and sounded the part, but she just didn’t smell right yet. “I am Kolya, for the winter, and you are facing the wrong way,” he grumbled, barging forward so his chest almost met hers. With a squeal, the colt bared his teeth and threatened her with a bite if she didn’t behave. Haunches bunching, he pushed forward again, intent on making her turn in this tight space and head the way he wanted her to. The silly little filly was good for nothing if she didn’t, and his patience was quick to wane.

[Ehetere]

Dulloora watched the colt with gleaming eyes, a hint of laughter there. Yes, this was a game she could play for years without ever tiring of it. Though her mother had been loyal to her stallion almost to a fault, Dulloora had not ever felt such a compelling connection with one. To her they were but objects of amusement to look pretty and shower her with praise and affection. And someday provide her with foals nearly as beautiful as she.

Unhappily, this colt seemed far from impressed with her flirtations: something that didn’t go down too well with the dusky grey filly. Was he blind? For all his looks, this colt seemed intent on making her his and nothing else. Dulloora was disinterested in becoming any one stallion’s mate at this stage, and it was practically insulting she might be just another herd member - any horse with a working pair of eyes could see that. She was smarter, more beautiful and more cunning than any mare he was likely to come across, and if he refused to accept that then it was his loss.

She laid back her ears again when he seemed to be full of nothing but bad tempered remarks - hardly the way any young stallion should talk to a filly. He came at her, teeth barred looking impatient, which to be fair to the colt was not an unreasonable state of being. The grey filly was beautiful and unfortunately she knew this all too well and liked to lord it over nearly every horse she came across. It also made her nearly unbearable at times like this, particularly when things weren’t going her way.

Disapproving of the colt’s violent behaviour, she made her opinion abundantly clear by snapping out at him angrily with a high pitched squeal. He wanted her to turn around? That could be arranged. Turning tightly on her haunches, she flicked her tail in the colt’s face and offered a vicious sort of buck before once again tearing off down the mountain. It was such a shame that such a pretty face was so stubborn and uncooperative. The grey filly would be back, next year perhaps, to see if the colt’s manners and blood had cooled any by then.

[Tiggs]

The dun colt felt a flush of victory as her weight gave and she began to turn. It was short lived, as with a loud squeal, the filly turned abruptly, bucked and took off at that blinding speed again. Muzzle stinging from the whip of her tail, the colt screamed of his aggravation and launched into a gallop, pounding after the filly.

It was no use, the filly was gone within seconds. Screaming loudly again, the colt bucked and reared and stomped down the path until he’d spent some of that built-up frustration. Damn her! Damn that dusky filly! Couldn’t she see what he was offering? A strong colt, young and healthy, she should be fawning over him! Snorting, the colt pawed at the ground, digging furrows in the dusty path. His mother had lavished him with compliments as a foal, assuring him that he would be the most powerful stallion in the High Country one day. Kolya had never been challenged, he’d had no brothers to test his strength against, only his amiable half-sister and all she wanted to do was play silly filly games.

So it was probably no surprise that Kolya was a relatively spoilt and inexperienced colt. All his ideas of stallion-hood were learned from an absentee father and a vain mother; a volatile and unproductive combination. In his mind, the filly should want to be with him for the simple fact he was a colt and he’d found her. He hadn’t expect her to have a mind of her own, and for that mind to disapprove of him!

Tossing his head, the still-fuming colt set off down the path at a brisk trot. He would never catch up to her, but he had nothing better to do but follow her trail. The path soon evened out and widened, and the colt stepped up to a canter. It occurred to the colt – who was not entirely without brains – that perhaps fillies would require more complicated tactics. The black filly on the Bogong hadn’t responded to his prideful display, and this grey filly – Dulloora – had responded even less favourably to his herding technique.

He was fresh out of ideas for what he should try, but he was determined to think of something. Summer was passing with every day, and he would deem it failure to start into autumn without at least one filly by his side. This required some thought, and some more fillies to practice on...