[open] the muddy sun

[KAREE]

Allunga had heard the news of there being a new king and like many horses, had come to see who it was. Of course, that could have just been Allunga's excuse for taking a trip to Yarraman's Valley...a place where she felt most comfortable at, despite the large number of horses that roamed it. She liked the Valley, and it's sweet grass. It always seemed to taste better than the green grass high up on the Brindle Bull or the Bogong.

The sooty palomino mare moved quickly and quietly down into the Valley, occasionally pausing to scoop up a mouthful of that sweet, green grass. The sun was high in the sky, but that did not bother the young mare, she was not aware of the high price of a creamy horse...nor did she consider herself to be of any real beauty. She was ugly, a sun filled colour gone wrong. The mare wrinkled her nose, glancing down to look at her legs that where a muddy colour. It looked as though she had been rolling around in the mud, and hadn't bothered to wash it all off afterwards. Hideous. Snorting, she shook out her pale mane and frowned. If only she could scrub out that colouring...maybe then she'd look like one of those beautiful silver horses that the wind always whispered about.

Allunga sighed and continued on down through the valley, easily hoping over small streams that ran through it and past thickets of trees. She wasn't sure where she was going...just wandering around until something perked her interest she guessed.

[Ehetere]

The pale grey stallion was playing a dangerous game. He knew full well that the King and his herd resided over Yarraman’s Valley, but he couldn’t help but come and check out his competition. Piringa fancied the crown himself, and currently he was but waiting for an opportunity at a rematch. But it did not one any harm to see how the golden stallion was faring.

Piringa was on high alert, delicate ears constantly flitting about to pick up the tiniest sounds of movement approaching. The valley was quite large, it after all had to house the King’s herd however expansive that may be. There was plenty of cover and grazing spots, and Piringa was as yet unaware of where the herd might be grazing, if here at all. It would seem ludicrous to leave such fine grazing, but who knew whether the King had himself an even better secretive grazing ground.

There was the crack of a branch from around the corner, and Piringa froze in place: handsomely dished head thrown up and every sense straining to work out whether the sound meant friend or foe. A curiously coloured brumby emerged from around the corner, with a coat of muddy brown dappled all over by sunlight, and a mane and tail of silver. If Piringa could have perked up his ears more than they already were, he would have. It was a mare, and a rather beautiful one at that.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him mares of such beauty usually meant a stallion, snapping him from his momentary trance. Surely this mare was one of the King’s. He couldn’t hear or smell any other horses approaching, so she must have wandered off and was returning to the herd. He hovered, shifting his weight from side to side. In the end, his head did not rule his heart and he gave a throaty wicker of greeting, arching his neck and trotting over to greet her. The handsome stallion was in his prime, a gleaming white statue of strength and beauty well worth a place in any young child’s story books. Flagging his silvery tail, the stallion came to a halt just a short distance from the dappled mare.

“Greetings, o’ lovely mare of the dappled light,” he said bobbing his head respectfully, still marvelling at the intricacies of her coat. He’d never seen anything like it, the effect was as dazzling as it was mesmerising. “Do you seek the King’s herd?”