A Midnight Visit [Darl]

[E!]

On a night like such, with the stars shining in a clear cascade of brilliance, Bundaleer liked to explore. And now, with his pretty little mare Aroo with him, they could explore together. The night seemed to want to hide them, their dark coats blending well with the surrounding trees. Bundaleer was a dark chestnut, a bloody russet with a mane very similar. His companion, Aroo, the spirited young mare, was a beautiful liver chestnut whom he had met only weeks ago - and yet the two seemed as if they had known each other their whole lives. They shared a burning energy that kept them moving and searching for new, exciting things. Such as tonights venture. Dead Horse Hut.

The very name warned off horses, and yet Bundaleer ached to go and explore the hut and its inhabitants - despite the fact that it was summer, and the men were on high alert. He tossed his handsome head, turning to Roo and touching her on the shoulder before trotting confidently forward, ears pricked and eyes bright. Very sure of himself, he stepped out of the trees and into the open, peering curiously at the fences before him. How strange! To be held by these strange lying down trees and sticks! His movements were easy and smooth as he stepped further forward, stretching out his nose to get a good whiff of the humans scents.

His curiosity grew as the scent of a mare, obviously one held by the men judging by the smell, came to his quivering nostrils. A quick glance back at the trees assured him Aroo was still there, though he knew she would be absolutely shivering with excitement and would want to come down soon. Bundaleer pricked his long ears, giving an experimental whinny. His eyes brightened as he waited for a reply. What adventure might tonight bring him?

[Illu]

OoC: Hurrah for HOLYCRAPTHISISLATE.

Darl wasn't exactly built like wild horses. She'd been owned by men her whole life; penned in, strapped up, theirs to command. But it was a life that brought a level of safety and security that wild horses would never get to experience. She didn't have to worry about bad weather, because she was always protected; she didn't need to worry about the starving feral dog because of her masters gun; she didn't need to worry about lack of grazing or water, because she was always provided for, and she didn't have to worry about dangerous horses or getting harassed by agressive stallions, because her owner would never let one near her.

Safety, alas, made a horse complacent. Her senses were dulled in comparison to a brumbies; sounds and signs that to a wild horse would be as clear as day often went unnoticed. It wasn't as though anyone had taught her to learn how to track the moment of wild herds, or know the patterns of the land, and in her day to day life she simply didn't need to keep her wits about her 'just in case'. John would always be there in a flash if she was in trouble, like that time with the snake or the madman with the gun.

As a result, it was a safe bet that if Bundaleer hadn't of called out to her, she'd still have remained completely oblivious to the pair of wild horses so close to her pen. Darl had been dozing - almost - having woken up only for a drink of water. The dapples of her dark bay coat blended in well with the spotty shadows of the trees and she was almost asleep again when she heard it. A horse.

The mare lifted her dark head, refined ears pricked in curiosity. Her first thought - rather foolishly - was that some men had come back late and that she should shortly have some company, but that wasn't Moya's whinny, nor was it Bill or any of Tom's geldings, and there was no jingle of tack. In fact, the bush was dead quiet again.

Darl breathed out loudly though her nostrils, feeling a sense of unease trickle through her. It sounded like a gelding, or, a male horse at least, definitely, but brumbies didn't come here. They were too scared, and not without reason. But what if they were? Darl felt an excited shiver run through her skin. Perhaps she had imagined it, having been in that bizzare state between sleep and waking? She whinnied back – quietly, her voice gentle. What was going on?