The Hunted [Open!]

[Tiggs]

She hated this place. Rocks crowded in around her, threatening to block her way at any time. She couldn’t see, and scent trails were hard to pick up on the granite all around her. Quivering, the dainty filly stepped over another rock, carefully squeezing her way through a narrow gap that only roos and foals could manage.

Her pale red coat stood out in stark relief against the rock, and her white face and legs were like splashes of snow – so out of place in the summer heat. Her coat was marked with streaks of sweat, more to do with her own fear rather than the heat. She had narrowly escaped a stallion who had picked up her scent and chased her across what felt like half the High Country. Eumina was terrified of the big bay brute, and she took what solace she could find in the dangerous paths of the Ramsheads.

For the first time, her fear had an inward angle. With the arrival of spring and her third year, the filly was coming into heat. Every third week since the snowmelt, her body betrayed her and called out silently for a stallion. Every day was torture. She wanted so badly for it to stop! She was so careful never to leave a track; she never even made so much as a nicker lest a stallion find her. But now her scent was so strong that she was sure every stallion in the High Country could find her.

In her hurry to get over some rocks in her path, she slipped, her small hooves finding no purchase on the stone. A jagged piece of rock grazed her foreleg and she blew out a breath in pain. Hopping over the obstacle, she made it out of the tretcherous path onto a small patch of snowgrass. Forgetting to look around for other brumbies, she dropped her delicate nose to her leg and nosed it.

Her pink nose came away bloody, and while the wound was not deep, she could feel the throb of the impact still. She experimentally put her weight on it. The joints did not protest but the stretch of skin brought pain to the young mare’s eyes. Eumina could feel the panic crowding her, making her want to bolt. What if she were stranded here!? High on the Ramsheads, it could be difficult to find water. If her leg became lame, she might never make it down.

The quivering wreck of a filly lifted her head, nostrils flaring and pale ice blue eyes looking around wildly. She was suddenly sure she was not alone. What if the stallion had found his way around the tor? Was he here waiting for her? White of her eyes clearly visible, the filly stood motionless on the small highland meadow, acutely aware of how obvious she now was.

[Li<3]

The bay roan stallion was a huge fan of the Ramsheads. His thick legs and sure-footedness made the area the perfect place for him to be. The heat wasn't ideal and sweat began to lather his hide, but he continued picking his way through the rocks. He had fond memories of playing here as a colt, and as a stallion, Pallarang was tracking a mare.

He hadn't come here because of her, just because he had smelt humans and knew they wouldn't follow him here. She just happened to be a lucky find. Very lucky in fact. He hadn't know she was even there until he smelt the sweat scent of her heat. Pallarang was still young and had only smelt a mare's heat a few times, but it was something he would never forget. The only problem was the way this filly was moving. She moved quick and he hadn't even glimpsed her yet, but he knew she was there.

The heat was really beating down as the stallion was nimbly trotted along a stone peak. And then he saw her. The lovely red damsel was below him, beginning to scramble up a steep slope. Pallarang watched carefully and he snorted softly. She was moving far too quickly to traverse the path, especially with the footing. And that's when the inevitable happened. The lovely little mare slipped and fell down the slope. The roan winced as he watched and saw he laying in the small clearing. He watched her move for a moment then a new scent mingled with her sweet aroma. Blood.

Pallarang snorted and gently nickered to the mare, trying to let her know he was there before quickly jumping ledge to ledge down to her. He approached her slowly, breathing softly, noticing the pain and fear in her eyes. He would have to play this carefully to gain her trust. He stopped a few feet away from her and looked at her leg. "Are you alright?" he said in a slow, comforting voice. The aroma of her heat was nearly driving him crazy, but he had to be careful and watch his footing or it would all fall out from under him.

[Ehetere]

The grey stallion was smarting. Though the wounds had healed from his tussle with his brother, the shame of it all remained. His momentarily improved mood had darkened to resemble that of a thunder cloud, menacing and threatening violence to all in its path. He had tracked north, instinctively heading for the Ramsheads, for though he did not find any comforting memories of his childhood there, there was solace to be found in the rough country, a place where a young stallion might run once more. Make new memories. At least it would provide a distraction from the embarrassment of once again coming away mareless from a fight.

A gust of refreshing wind came to momentarily provide a reprieve from the stifling heat, and Lark breathed in deeply. With it came the scent of a mare. His ears pricked forward as he cantered onwards, rippling muscles belying his agility. He’d grown up in this country, and he was bred to be as surefooted as a mountain goat.

Checking his pace slightly as the going got rougher and the path narrower, he soon spotted the source of the tantalizing smell. And he even recognized her. Coming to an abrupt halt, he threw up his head in disbelief. The last time he’d seen that filly was when he’d been a yearling, and he was quite surprised to be seeing her again. She’d been an immovable statue, refusing to budge a muscle in the snow. He had half expected to find her frozen remains there in the spring, but she had long since gone from his mind by that time. Yet, here she was. Ironically enough, still looking immovable and terrified as ever.

Lark remembered how frustrating she had been - completely silent and still like a horse of ice with probably half the sense. How her inert ways had made him want to beat her senseless then and there. And now he would have simply continued on his way, were it not for the particularly vindictive mood that had clouded his thoughts. He was going to make this silent fearful filly his, and she would follow him as her stallion.

A hiccup in his plan appeared as he was about half way down towards her. A bay roan stallion had emerged from the opposite direction down the slope somewhere, and was making his way towards her. Unconcerned, Lark moved behind a copse of jagged boulders, his hide blending with the grey rock. He was unsure whether to snort in amusement or disgust at the kindness the other stallion was exhibiting - it would make no difference. That filly was damaged goods, unable to be reached by either kindness or force. His advances reminded Lark of his brother’s outrageous flirting, which only furthered his bad mood. Deciding that enough was enough, and that he’d seen more than enough for one day, he leaped out from behind his hiding place, trumpeting his challenge so all the mountains might hear his roar.

Traversing what was left of the decline in great bounding leaps, occasionally feeling the rock beneath him shift before quickly leaping into space again, he came to a thundering halt just above the pair, noting the filly’s injury. So much the better for him. “We meet again, filly of the snow,” he sneered, noting her trembling with satisfaction whilst ignoring the other stallion’s presence almost completely. “It seems you did not die standing there after all.”

Fixing a cold glare in the roan’s direction, he wondered whether the heavy looking fool knew just what he was chasing. Lark may have been less refined and more muscled than his lithe brother, but he was far from heavily set and still had some swiftness and agility in his limbs. A factor that would give him every advantage should this stallion not back down and leave the filly to him. A ding dong fight on the edge of a slope such as this would be impossible, where the fastest, lightest horse would have the advantage.

[Tiggs]

What was a comforting sound to any other mare sent chills down Eumina’s spine. The nicker of a stallion, even a gentle one at that, was the last thing Eumina wanted to hear. She winced at the sound of hooves on rock, hoping that if she still her breathing and stood very still, the stallion would not see her. She knew it was too late though, and the big sturdy roan was then right there.

He was not the bay who had been chasing her originally, but any stallion was the same in her eyes. Rooted to the spot, Eumina stood stock still as the mighty beast approached. She quivered, her legs perceivably shaking in terror. Sweat broke out across her hide, but not all of it was due to fear.

This was the closest she’d been to a stallion since starting her heat, and her body was screaming its demands in absolute opposition to what her mind wanted. With him so close, her blood felt as if it were on fire, and her rapid breathing had less to do with fear and more to do with excitement with every intake.

But her mind was clouded with the fear. Like a fog, it filled her mind and made it impossible for her to think. She needed to run, to get away, but he was so large and she was so small! With her leg grazed and bleeding, she could never outrun him. She didn’t hear his words. Her ears barely even twitched. Her wide eyes stared almost blankly at him, and the only movement or recognition of his being there was the constant quiver of her body.

As if her nightmares were coming true, a familiar voice came to her. Her pale eyes rolled, and she saw the steely grey stallion towering over her on a higher ledge. He seemed even bigger than before, a giant in a world of ants. In reality, the grey stallion was lither than the roan in front of her, but her fear magnified his presence.

Being acutely aware of stallions all her life, Eumina was finding it almost impossible to ignore the presence of two males from her body’s point of view. With a traitorous flick, her tail beckoned both stallions closer, wafting the musky scent of her heat to the breeze before she caught herself. She clamped her tail between her legs like a frightened dingo pup, cowering silently before the giant pair of stallions, sure that one of them – or likely both – would want to harm her now they had her trapped.

[Li<3]

The mare's fear was extremely evident. When the roan approached, she had began to physically shake. Pallarang doubted she even heard his gentle words. He snorted softly and was about to make another attempt to get through to her when a loud battle cry echoed through the air. The stallion jerked his head up to see the grey race down the hill. He snorted irritable and threw his ears back, listening to what he was saying.

Pallarang made his way around the mare, keeping a safe few feet distance, before standing between her and the other stallion. He would not lose her, not another mare. Before in his ventures, he had been young and foolish, now he was full grown and ready for a fight. He pawed at the earth angrily and glared at the other stallion, keeping a stern eye contact. The roan didn't want to speak to this ignorant fool, he reared and matched the stallion's trumpet with a deep battle cry of his own. The sound resonating from his throat and bouncing off the rocks around them.

Sure the grey might be lighter and quicker, but the thick roan had a quick mind and sure, sturdy legs. He could plant himself and not budge, and even an agile body couldn't replace a firm stance on high ground. Sure he couldn't dance around like a human standing on hot ground, but he could scale a mountain just as easily as any other stallion. Pallarang planted his feet firmly and glared at the stallion, awaiting his move to fight.

[E!]

Where was she! Where was that silly little adopted daughter of hers? The fire had been terrifying for both of them, and had separated the blue mare from her red daughter. It had not been aware to Ekala how much she fretted over the young filly until she had been separated from her. Ekala always kept a clear, calm and level air around her - she had experienced enough of this life to know that panic and anger got her nowhere. But when that smoke had filled her nostrils and the quickly maturing filly beside her had bolted, Ekala had had no choice but to follow and in turn, get lost within the smoke and flames until she had been forced to find a creek bed to hide in during the confusion, and all the while her heart had been beating a million miles an hour, betraying her usually calm head.

And now Eumina was lost to her. The thought dragged her down. Ekala had had foals in her time, as every mare did, but those had moved on and forgotten her, just as she had allowed time to take them away from her, as was natural. However, Eumina was no normal foal. Nor any foal of hers. Ekala had always taught her sons and daughters to use their head, not their heart - for the heart always led to destruction. Eumina did the opposite. At the slightest scent of a stallion, she panicked, and Ekala had to act as protector, defender, supermum.. and she reveled in it. This was a challenge, and she loved that little speck of a red roan filly more than she had ever loved her own kin. Further than the boundaries of blood.

It was with joy, then, when she picked up the mares fear-scent. The scent of fear hung around Eumina like fog to the ground in the boggy during the winter months. Ekala's step quickened. Her blue roan hide blended well with the granite around her, her sturdy body used to the heavy terrain and the challenges it brought. And then she stopped, her handsome head thrown high. Her nostrils quivered. It took only seconds to have her cantering at a dangerous speed upward through the Ramsheads, fear for her adopted daughter clutching at her big heart. Stallions. Eumina's worst fear and the one thing Ekala knew could undo her daughters head more than anything else. And two of them!

A fierce glare attached itself to her weathered face as she caught sight of the two stallions. Both strong, and one strangely familiar. She let out a strong whinny as she drew closer, hooves clattering on stone. And then she was there, breathing in the red fillies scent, her soft nose touching that jittering hide. Relief evident only for a moment on her face, Ekala jerked her head upward to stare coldly at the two stallions that faced each other, letting loose battle cries to shake the very earth between them. Ignoring them for a moment, confident that they would occupy each others attention, she turned her soft nose to Eumina again, uttering soft noises of comfort and happiness to have the young filly with her again.

Ekala knew this could not go on forever - at some point Eumina would feel herself wanting her own independence, and, though she was frightened by them, she would be unable to resist her body and its betrayal. Ekala was fully aware of this. And aware, also, that the heavier, bay roan stallion would be an able and kindly protector for them both. The blue roan mare had grown up having that sense of protection, always. And at times she longed for that knowledge again - though she was perfectly capable of watching over herself and Eumina alone. Her large brown eyes switched to the grey, cold and angry. She barely recognized him, but she knew him to be the arrogant young fool that had frightened Eumina so much before Ekala had turned up and sent him away. He was bigger now, and Ekala feared that she had not the strength to do the same again.

[Ehetere]

The filly’s eyes showed their whites, and she seemed to recognise him. Good, maybe the foolish stallion would leave them alone then, since clearly she had never set eyes on him before. She can’t have been as disgusted to see him as he’d first thought though, as a flirtatious flick of her tail had his nostrils flaring. So much the better.

Before he could make off with her then and there, the stupid roan stepped between them like he owned the little filly. If any one was entitled to her mute annoyances, it was him. He’d already had to put up with them once, and now he intended to take payment for it. The roan’s glares did little to intimidate him, quite the opposite. Though once again Lark was facing an older opponent, he was vital and strong, tall and more muscled than any colt his age. He would be a fearsome sight when he finally reached his full strength. But now he was once again going to fight a heavy looking older horse. And this time he wasn't going to lose.

Before he could make the first move and ensure that he used his higher position to the best of his advantage, another distraction made itself apparent. One that Lark was even less pleased to see than this irritating obstacle of a stallion. The whinny of a mare came echoing across the slope, and he glanced down to spot an eerily familiar mare plodding her way towards them. If he was not very much mistaken, it was the old fool who had come and interrupted him stealing the filly the first time. Well, she was even older now and no such thing would be happening again.

His ears had only been swivelled back before, but now he pinned them to the back of his neck in their customary position. His mood was really not being helped by all of this, and the temptation to leap into battle with both the roan stallion and the fat mare was beginning to get hard to ignore. Why oh why did the gods think it a joke to set such luck upon him? What had he ever done to deserve any of this? All through his life he had been plagued by it, from his mother to his father to his siblings, and then in his seemingly incurable inability to win a fight. And no matter how hard he tried to rid himself of it, it would only come back to bite him. No more! Not today!

Now there were three horses below him, two of whom were glaring in his direction. All but breathing fire, he snorted in irritation at this interruption to his quest. ”Go away old mare,” he sneered at the blue roan, ”You have no business here, and there is not enough grass to sustain one as fat as you, so just waddle back from where you came. Or do you want me to push you in the right direction so you might roll down the hillside? While you’re at it, take this fat colt with you and you can make fat round foals together.”

[Tiggs]

The roan stallion was circling her, and the filly might have bolted i she had any sense. The way was clear for her to escape, but her shaking legs stayed rooted, and her wide eyes fixed on the beast. His sent curled around her, and a cold sweat started trailing down her legs. His closeness was too much, and the terrified filly was overwhelmed.

The stallions’ screams near shattered her eardrums. The sound drowned out her thudding heartbeat, and she shook violently with every call. It was all she could do not to melt down to the ground and quivered there. Her foreleg had drizzled blood all the way down her snow-white stocking, smeared laf way down where her muzzle had touched it. She would do anything right now to escape these stallions. If she had to scrape every leg every day, she would do it just to escape them.

But she could not move, even if she tried. As if roots had grown from her hooves and held her there, she was stuck. Mentally, she was as frozen as Mount Kosciusko in winter. All she could hear, smell and see where stallions. They filled her with such dread that she was consumed by them. Yet that small part of her, that instinct to find a stallion and bear his foals niggled away in the back of her mind, excited by the prospect of a fight.

Disgusted by her own mind, Eumina was far too involved in her fear to notice the kind old mare who came to her like an avenging whirlwind. The old blue roan was her surrogate mother, she trusted her, but Eumina was so absorbed by her fear of the stallions that she did not feel her gentle touch, nor hear her kind words. She only saw the stallions, and her wide rolling eyes seemed to look through the old mare as if she were not there.

OOC: Alrighty then! I shall roll us some fights! Lark has 8 fight points, so he gets the numbers 1-8. Pallarang only has 5 fight point, so he gets the numbers 9-13. Rolling a number between 1-13, the result is.... 10! Pallarang wins!

[E!]

ooc; go ahead, Ekala is just watching over Eumina for now. And rofl at Lark Love it.

[Li<3]

OOC: Awesome! Go Pal! *cheers*

The bay roan had his eyes glued on the grey stallion, the fierce whinny of another mare approaching caught the attention of his ears. He heard her come up behind him to the shaking filly and gently making sure she was alright. She could feel her hard glare, but then it moved to the grey. The filly had been seriously shaken by the other stallion's presence, and now with the fierce glare from the protective mare, did these three know each other? And with the way the mares were reacting, Pallarang figured they weren't old friends.

The other stallion's voice came as a shock to Pallarang. So dark, fierce, and angry. The roan snorted and pawed at the earth, listening intently to the grey's words. Rage slowly began to fill his chest. "Hold your tongue," he said. His deep tone rolling out of his mouth. "Leave the mares out of this." Pallarang made another step forward, glaring up at the grey.

The other stallion was like a storm. Fierce and rolling over the land, destroying everything he touched. But Pallarang was the mountain. Strong and steady. The only thing that could stop a storm, was the mountain. Catching it in his grip and not letting it go any further. Here, the roan was the mountain. Determined to keep this storm from reaching the mares behind him. He planted himself firmly and stood as a barrier between them and the oncoming storm. Pallarang was ready.