Left alone [O]

[Corowa]

Toowoomba picked at the grass that grew between the rocks. The group of young colts and fillies she usually ran with had been scattered throughout the Cascades. There had been a grey colt she had run with for a time, but he had been captured by stockmen when he strayed too close to the hut down by Cascade Creek.

Ever since then, Toowoomba had stuck to the lesser grazed areas of the rocky back country. Yet a year of drought had turned what little grass remained to dust, and the filly had been forced up into the more frequented grazing grounds. So far, the only signs she had seen of any other brumbies had been weeks old, but once or twice, she had found the fresher marks of a shod horse having passed through.

A currawong called out from a nearby snowgum, and Toowoomba lifted her head at the sound. Her nostrils flared wide and she grew completely still. If a stockman rode past he would not see her, but his dog would smell her and give chase.

Usually stockmen did not bother the plain-coloured brumbies, preferring to hunt the prized creamies, but the fire had driven many of the brumbies away from the High Country, and there were those stockmen who would catch what they could.

[Ehetere]

The pale faced colt picked his way through the bush, no matter how hard he tried unable to move without noise. Since filling out, Ghost had found that his increased bulk had snuck up on him, and branches were constantly whipping against his rump, branches snapping under his hooves and scrubs scratching his sides as he moved by. While he didn’t think it was possible for him to be fat considering the lack of food that he’d had last winter, the difference between the half-starved horse to the full and round colt were inescapable.

Regardless whether he’d eaten far too much snowgrass in the spring, the problem of noise remained the same. Ghost was almost secretive by nature - he didn’t like to attract attention to himself, ironic considering his loud colouring. Open country, though he was more noticeable, at least provided a faster and quieter way to travel. He was only passing through the Brindle Bull, grazing as he went, so he wouldn’t have any of the resident stallions coming after him.

Unlike the bay filly, Ghost had significantly more to be concerned about with capture. Though his build was not particularly neat or attractive, his colour would attract the eye of stockmen for miles around. However, the colt had never really had much experience in the ways of men, all he knew is that his mother feared them, and that they would chase brumbies on tame horses. Ignorance, yes, but his solitary lifestyle thus far had seemingly prevented anyone from warning him of the dangers. Thus it was he wandered out into the grazing area taking little care to ensure it was clear before hand.

He hadn’t smelt the bay mare, and came to an abrupt halt as if surprised at her presence. He hadn’t been paying much attention admittedly, but by anyone’s standards completely missing another brumby’s presence was rather an oversight. He had simply not expected to see anyone else up here - he hadn’t seen any other herds up here the entire time, so running into another brumby was rather unexpected. Flicking his ears nervously at the obviously alert filly, he considered quickly returning to the bush in hopes of barreling a path through it. She had seen him though, and it would seem mightily rude to simply walk off without even an acknowledgement of her presence.

Still rooted to the spot with indecision, he gave an abrupt high pitched whinny in greeting, wincing at how young he sounded. Still unsure of how to proceed, he dropped his head to snatch at a patch of dry looking grass. Perhaps this was how the colt had managed to put on so much weight. Remaining with his head near his hooves, he looked up nervously in the bay’s direction while he chewed, looking almost comical in doing so.

[Corowa]

In her safe shelter of bush, Toowoomba stayed very quiet and still. At first she could not hear anything, but then her sharp ears caught the sound of something moving not far from where she stood. There was the sound again, though louder this time, and she knew whatever had caused it, was coming closer.

Just then, a call rang out, and Toowoomba instantly answered. The filly stamped her foot, her ears flipping back and forth as she turned her head away. It was not hard to believe that she had found another brumby. Toowoomba knew many mobs of brumbies made their bimbles here, though she had not expected to find one so far up the mountain.

Yet there, only a few feet away, a heavy dun colt with a white face stood grazing. The filly looked on with interest, nostrils wide and quivering as she took in his unfamiliar scent. The colt was unusually coloured, with splashes of white on his belly and rump. Toowoomba watched him closely, thinking he could not be more than two years old.

The filly knew she had nothing to fear from a colt not yet fully grown, and so she trotted towards him. Her bay coat was rough, the ribs showing through, but newly-formed muscles rippled there on her chest and rump. Toowoomba tossed her head and nickered. “What are you doing so far from the rest of your mob?” she asked him. “Are there others nearby then? Colts and fillies like you?”

[Ehetere]

Presently he felt eyes on him, and the soft footfalls of the filly approaching. Stubbornly, or perhaps in an attempt to prolong having to actually interact with her after so rudely bursting upon her solitude, Ghost kept his head lowered, flicking ears the only sign he knew she was coming at all. He could ignore her no longer though, and he brought his head up sharply with an almost alarmed look about him as she gave a bright nicker of welcome.

Ghost cocked his head curiously at her question. He supposed it was a valid one though - most young horses ran with mobs after leaving their herds before branching off to make families of their own. Whether it was because he had been in a very small herd or because he had been separated from his dam by the blaze, he had never felt the desire to try and join up with the herds of other young brumbies he had passed. Ghost found far more solace by himself, something that was to be expected, but as this filly was demonstrating he was not the most confident of horses, and dreaded the thought of how he would be teased for it in a band of boisterous young colts.

“No, well at least none that I have come across. I don’t have a mob,” he replied quickly in a nervous mumble. Realizing this made him sound rather unwanted indeed, he rephrased. “Well, I don’t want a mob, really.”

The colt paused awkwardly for a moment, glancing at the ground and then back at the filly. Though she was simply a bay, she looked vital and glowing, shiny coat showing off powerful looking muscles. Ghost had none of these to boast, and wondered whether he truly was fat. Realising he had been staring, he grasped around desperately for a distraction. “And you?” he blurted abrupty, “Do you have a stallion, a herd nearby?” She couldn’t be many seasons older than he, but as far as Ghost was aware mares and fillies were claimed soon after they flew the nest, so to speak.

[Corowa]

Some of the eagerness left Toowoomba’s eyes, and the filly stirred disconsolately. She had searched and searched for a mob of brumbies she could run with at least for a little while, had felt an irrational hope that this young colt might lead her to others. Yet it seemed he too was alone, and the filly felt a sudden jolt of disappointment.

“I have no mob,” Toowoomba said unhappily. “I was separated from them by stockmen, and then the fire forced me far west of here.” She looked earnestly at Ghost, hoping the white-faced yearling would let her stay with him until she could find a mob to join somewhere down in the Cascades. Perhaps he would be pleased to have her, though he spoken otherwise. She began to tremble. He must take her with him surely. After all, she was an attractive filly, if rather ordinarily coloured.

Toowoomba switched her tail at the flies, and for the first time noticed the strange heaviness of the air. Her nostrils crinkled. She smelt rain on the wind, and she instinctively moved closer to the colt. The day had grown darker, but the heat was still stifling. The sweat dried on her shoulders and flanks, and it now itched uncomfortably. Her sharp ears caught the distant crack of thunder. There was bad weather coming, and Toowoomba knew enough to know they had best find shelter soon.

[Ehetere]

The filly’s cheerful expression dropped, and Ghost immediately felt guilty. He had not meant to upset her! He did not share the usual longing for company most horses did, perhaps because for most of his life his only friend had been his mother. Ghost had been on his own a long time for a young horse - it seemed natural to him. But this filly seemed so disheartened that there were no other horses nearby, Ghost found that he almost held himself responsible. After all, he knew the heartbreak of being separated from your loved ones in that burning heat.

“I’ve never had a mob to run with,” he started, as though to apologize for his ignorance. She was looking awfully forlorn now, and Ghost was becoming increasingly agitated. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do here; did she want him to keep her company? Offer words of comfort and condolences and be on his way? What was the correct course of action here?

“Please don’t be sad. I’m sure you’ll find your friends,” he offered, “If it would make you feel better, you could travel with me. To look for them. If you wanted to.”

Ghost felt the filly’s tension, and how it was reflected in the very atmosphere. The sky had been clear earlier, but now there were ominous looking dark clouds forming and the colt guessed a storm was on the way. From her trembling, he guessed she probably didn’t like storms, or perhaps not being alone in storms. Whatever the case, the colt knew here would not be a nice place to experience the weather - it was open and exposed atop the mountain of rock, and they would be at the mercy of the elements.

“We should go,” he murmured, still looking up at the darkening sky. He had no intention of being blown away once the wind started to really howl, though the lighter filly would surely have an even harder time of it.

[Corowa]

Toowoomba stiffened at the colt’s words. She was relieved, if rather surprised that he had chosen to stay with her. While he was only a yearling, still too young to have a herd of his own, Toowoomba decided that someday this dun colt might be a worthy mate, for even now he was an undoubtedly attractive horse.

“I will come with you then,” she said earnestly, “Though I think all that awaits us in the south is death, for surely, they could not have survived.”

Toowoomba shifted her weight from foot to foot, gripped by an irresistible sense of longing. Even now, she still felt the loss of Nooroo most keenly. Toowoomba was certain she would never see him again, yet once or twice she had woken, ears ringing with his calls.

The filly looked uneasily up at the sky. The wind had picked up, the grey clouds casting a weird greenish glow over everything. The still air pressed down on the two brumbies, making every hair stand erect. Toowoomba felt her body tingle, and a moment later, a bright sheet of lighting illuminated the bush. Thunder rumbled, and the filly shied skittishly as another flash lit the sky.

Higher up, there were no trees or scrub to hide them. The wind grew colder, blowing in from the east, and the first drops of rain fell. Toowoomba looked expectantly at the colt. If he led, she would follow. This rough, broken country was unfamiliar to her, and she only knew that they must find cover before the storm fully broke. Already the rain was falling more steadily, and it would not be long until it turned into a deluge.

[Ehetere]

Ghost looked away from the sombre tone of her voice, not wishing to think of such things. It was much easier for the colt to think himself separated from his mother by distance and country than by the veil of death. He had come across a good many brumby remains on his travels, but he did not allow himself to think for a moment they might be his mother, or his sire. “You shouldn’t think such awful things,” he replied, preferring to take the opinion of ignorance is bliss.

The sky was forcing itself upon them, the clouds now a physical thing ready to engulf the pair of brumbies. As Ghost watched, a brilliant flash lit the sky followed almost instantly by the booming peal of thunder - well past their cue to leave. The bay filly was frightened, shying at the noise and the light. Ghost was a steadfast creature, hooves well rooted in sensibility. He did not fear the storm, though knew it posed significant danger with them standing out here on the unprotected hillside.

Taking charge, he led off back the way he had come - he had passed a rocky overhang some time ago which might provide space for two horses to squeeze and shelter from the rain, and the scraggly tress and shrub would at least provide some protection from the howling wind and rain until then. Scrambing and slipping over rocky slopes calmly but quickly, he made for the fastest path down the mountain, gladly reaching the cover of the shrub which had so bothered him earlier. Purposefully forging a path through with his wide frame, he made sure to check behind him often to make sure the bay was still following.

Through the wind and the rain and a storm he led her, until at last nearly soaked to the skin they arrived at the cave he’d remembered. It was smaller than he’d thought, but squeezing in might at least provide some warmth from shared body heat.

[Corowa]

Toowoomba followed willingly after the dun colt. He was broader and heavier than she was, and easily cleared a way through the rough scrub. Toowoomba placed her hooves where he put his, a strange thrill running through her, when she saw how neatly her tracks fit into his. The bush thinned, and there between the wide snowgum trunks, she could see an opening carved out of the very spur itself, big enough to shelter two young brumbies.

She huddled in beside the colt, pressed so close she could feel the heat of his body. Toowoomba felt her coat prickling in response, and she rested her head on his withers, comforted by the colt’s solid presence. Outside, thunder rolled and lighting arched through the sky, lighting up whole sections of the bush. The rain could not reach them in here, and for the first time since the fire, Toowoomba felt safe.

What is your name?” she asked shyly, letting her nose touch his neck, shivering with a fierce longing. “I am Toowoomba, born down by the Crackenback,” she told the colt, and she plucked her head back, the fine whiskers on her nose tingling as his scent filled her nostrils. Toowoomba was confused and frightened by her reaction to him. How did this yearling colt make her heart pound in her chest with only a touch? She had never felt this way before, not once about any of the colts that ran the country south of the Crackenback.

[Ehetere]

Away from the driving wind and the lashing rain, Ghost was grateful for the warmth from the bay filly. Normally he would spend situations like this alone with no one but the wind to talk to, not that he necessarily minded as such, but the cold always got to him eventually, leaving him a shivering wreck come daybreak. She lay her head across his withers, and to Ghost it felt cosy and safe. Perhaps this is what a herd was supposed to feel like.

Ghost paused when she asked him of his name, apprehensive about telling her. How rude of him not to ask already, but he did not like to share his. Hers was lovely, mysterious and beautiful, well befitting of a brumby such as she. He on the other hand... well, he was as he was named.

“My mother called me... Ghostface,” he replied slowly, wincing at how silly his name sounded, however appropriate it may have been. “For obvious reasons. You can just call me Ghost though.” A name just a ridiculous, perhaps only half as embarrassing.

“Toowoomba is a lovely name though, far better than mine. Its beautiful.” He hoped against all hope he wasn’t crossing any lines, or that he wouldn’t as the night progressed. He quite liked her company - she was no boisterous colt or excitable filly. She was calm and steady, peaceful. Ghost liked peaceful.