The Frost of Summer [Piri mares / open]

[Ehetere]

The summer heat was near on oppressive, a physical force affecting all the creatures of the High Country. It was high noon, with the sun blazing high above. Cicadas buzzed somewhere down near Dead Horse Creek, and in the wider low plains of the Gap the red and white cattle grazed and dozed, barely moving except to chew or flick away pesky flies. The weather produced the sleepiest of moods, as though everything was slightly out of focus. The men wouldn’t be coming out brumby hunting today.

And it was with this confidence a stark white stallion came high stepping from the treeline into the brilliant light. Everything was green once more in the High Country, and here was some of the best grazing in its wide expanse. Whickering deeply, he called his two mares out from the cover of the trees, encouraging them out to graze in the dappled shade of the over hanging snow gums. The pale grey snatched at a few mouthfuls, but was resolved to stand watch over his new herd. Though he very much doubted the men would be coming out of their huts in this heat, or that they would find them, he was taking no chances.

Flicking his long silky tail at a pesky fly who endeavoured to bother him, Piringa watched his grullo mare Jiba from the corner of his eye. After the whole fiasco with his brother, he had been watching her like a hawk, for reasons he couldn’t really say. He didn’t trust the steel grey not to return, but after the injuries the younger stallion had received he rather doubted that it would be anytime soon. His brother would be sore for a long time, leaving him only to stew in his own resentment. Piringa knew that he should have killed him.

Sighing, he rested his weight upon one of his hind legs as he relaxed in the sunlight, bright coat a stunningly obvious beacon in the surrounding bush. Piringa was rather unconcerned with who might spot him - his victory over his brother had brought with it a sense of pride and strength. He dared any stallion in the High Country to come and steal his mares. Piringa could take them. He likely provided an equal target for mares - his obvious beauty and finer breeding making him stand out just as much as his coat did.

The pale grey mare Quinja stood dozing in the dappled light, occasionally flicking her tail at some bothersome flies. She had come with him oh so willingly, and he had shown her the Ramsheads as he had promised, and yet he wondered whether she was truly his. Whether it be the ghost of lost love or friend that kept her heart locked away Piringa did not know, but it still seemed to him as though she held a part of herself back. Walking over to her, he gently slung his head over her shoulders to rest there, breathing in her scent. There was a peace he found with her that he could not with Jiba, for he suspected the grullo mare was even less his than this mare was. Pushing away this annoying thought, determined not to dwell to much on it he gazed out across the sunlit plain. Regardless of whether Quinja would one day run away to what kept her heart closed, Piringa was determined to protect and care for her until then.

[sooty]

She had enjoyed her trip to the Ramsheads, the country had filled her with such an energy it had made her feel even more free and wild than she normally did. The time she had had with the beautiful gray stallion had made her decide to stick with him, or around him a little longer. She didn’t want to tie herself right down but he was also too good looking and even though she tagged a way back at times and wasn’t always there, well it didn’t look like she was there, she could bring herself to go back off on her own.

She followed at a bit of a distance to Dead Horse Gap. He now had other mares with him and it had been a few years since she had run with a herd and socialising with other mares was not high on her list of things to do. So when the stunning gray stallion brought the others to a stop she did as well, deep back in the trees. She was in debate with herself over if she would stay back here, safe where she only needed to worry about herself or if she would move into the herd a little more.

With a sigh she took a few steps over to the nearest tree and began to rub her side on it. Her creamy summer coat was pretty much all through now but there was still the odd itchy strand in there and it felt good to be scratching. As she moved down her side and onto her rump her head bobbed up and down with pleasure. She then turned slightly and worked her way up the other side of her body until she got to her head. Once done she shook herself off and with a bit of a yawn walks towards the herd a bit more, curious to what they are up to.

She can see the open country at the end of the trees and felt her hair prickling a little. She had been carefree earlier but she was remembering that she did not know this country very well and even though it was not the normal sort of day for a brumby drive sometimes that was what man wanted you to think. With that thought she makes sure she places her hooves down carefully to make as little noise as possible as she approached the stallion and the two mares she did not know.

Stopped a few paces from them she looks at the other mares, her ear flipping back against her skull as she did so. She was not the sort to enjoy shearing attention. So with a soft snort and a flick of her thick silver tail she turns away from the little herd and walks to the very edge of the trees and looks out over the open land before glancing back at the other mares trying to stop her ears from flicking back and that not so pleased look crossing her face but she wasn’t doing a very good job at it so she quickly looks back out the trees, she did not want to stand there and glare at the gray stallion being all close and loved up with the other mares.

[Tiggs]

The addition of new mares to the herd had been a surprisingly welcome development for Jiba. The roan mare was her older sister, Quinja. Jiba had only spent a few months in the company of her older sister before their mother departed ways with the herd, taking Jiba with her, so the two were not fast friends but the familiarity was comforting for the perpetually grumpy mare.

Now that she was starting to feel the first signs of life inside her, she had lost interest in Piringa, and had returned to her usual indifferent self. She followed the stallion for his protection, but her heart was not – and never had been – drawn to him. Jiba was not the sort of mare to think with her heart at all. She was a pragmatic mare, often choosing what she needed over what she wanted. Despite her best efforts, what she wanted was Lark. What she needed, and what she’d chosen, was Piringa.

Quinja was almost the polar opposite. She was almost completely driven by her heart, and every day she wished to find Bokara. The grey mare felt guilty to be thinking of her bay mate when Piringa had shown her such kindness but Quinja knew as long as there was a chance Bokara was still out there, looking for her as she was looking for him, she could not open her heart to Piringa.

The summer sun was almost scolding on her back but Quinja – her very name meaning ‘ash’ – was delighted to relax in the heat. She stood near Piringa, head low as she dozed. She daydreamed of the Ramsheads, her excitement of the adventure still fresh in her mind. She had been disappointed not to find Bokara, as always, but Piringa had shown her his favourite sights and she had enjoyed herself for the first time she could remember being without Bokara.

With the cicada’s buzzing in her ears, troublesome flies kept at bay by her tail, the roan mare was dreaming of Bokara when the weight of a head rested on her back. The mare sighed contentedly, nickering to the stallion. She opened her eyes, still partly in her dream world where she had never lost Bokara to the fire, and she stood in his company like always. When her eyes focussed, she realised she was back to reality. It was not her bay Bokara, but the white stallion Piringa that rested with her.

The mare whickered, a little embarrassed at the confusion. Her nerves tingled awkwardly, unsure whether to be comforted or discouraged by the stallion’s direct attention. She did like Piringa – he shared a lot in common with her – but the affection was too similar to Bokara’s, and she felt guilty comparing the two. With a sleepy nicker, the mare craned her head and touched her nose to Piringa’s politely before slipping away, dropping her head to graze not a few steps away. She was not avoiding the stallion entirely, but it did not feel right to her to bask in the relative stranger’s warmth.

Meanwhile, a brumby not enjoying the summer heat was the colt Kolya. The dark dun was perpetually lathered in sweat, and kept to the shade whenever he could. The summer heat fired up his temper, and only served to remind him how far away from spring they were. And still he did not have any mares!

The Gap was scatted with lazy cattle, and Kolya wrinkled his nose at their stench. He could smell them miles away! How was he supposed to find fillies like this! Snorting, the two-year-old stopped when he came to a tree that piqued his interest. Fur was snagged on the bark at flank-height, and a quick sniff told him all he needed to know: a mare, and she had been here very recently.

Looking out into the Gap, the colt saw that he likely had some competition. A suspiciously familiar white stallion stood draped over one of his mares, no doubt coveting her from other stallions. His body-language was clear; this mare is mine. Huffing, the colt was sure that he would have no chance of stealing mares from right out under this stallion’s nose. As luck would have it, though, a golden-creamy mare was detaching herself from the small herd and heading back to the trees.

The colt could barely hold himself back! He wanted to jump from the shadows, rear and buck and posture and impress this mare like she had never been impressed before! She was beautiful, and almost so pale that she could be a legendary creamy. Kolya had his heart set on collecting at least one creamy since that horrible old nag, Wilgee, had mocked him! He would show her! He wasn’t too young to collect mares!

Waiting until the mare was close, the colt shifted his weight, hopefully making a quiet sound that only the mare would hear. He popped his dark head out of the shadows, and gestured for the mare to come to him. Here he was, an exciting young stallion, wanting to steal her away from that sleepy old male. How could she resist? He could already imagine the tale now, of how he had bravely stolen her away from right under the grey stallion’s nose! What prestige it would bring him, and what powerful foals she would give him.

[Ehetere]

The roaned mare seemed happy at his presence - something that made Piringa’s heart warm. Whatever still burdened her, he would do his best to ease her load, just as the presence of all these mares to look after prevented his mind from wandering too often to his still missing mare, his mate Kiata. He had been quite cross with Jiba when she had said she’d been travelling with the sandy roan, but had lost her. His every will longed to spend all day and night searching the High Country for her, now that he knew she was alive. But with this new herd came responsibility, and he could not just leave them alone for whole weeks at a time while he scoured the countryside.

The roan grey mare pulled away then, seemingly apologetic for her actions leaving Piringa to shake out his mane, thoroughly confused. He watched her with a hurt expression - was he not kind and gentle? Piringa thought himself a good stallion, strong, reliable, handsome. Caring. Everything a fine stallion could be. How was it that so many of his herd were discontented with each other and himself?

There was the hint of movement behing him, and he threw his noble head up in alarm, nostrils flared wide and ears flicking about anxiously. A creamy gold shape detached itself from the shadows, revealing the mare Alinga. She seemed to be a bit of a wanderer, a trait that Piringa had accounted for by her silver lineage surely. Her expression was angry and he had long since gotten the impression the lovely mare did not approve of his attention to the other mares. But what was he to do? He could not be four horses at once; was it so impossible to ask a small group of mares to share? There was more than enough of him to go around if they were patient.

With a sigh, Piringa turned back to his vigil, no mares at his side and feeling rather disheartened. Holding a herd was more trouble than he’d first thought, and he had no idea how a stallion with ten or twenty mares might manage it without them all deserting him, else ripping each others throats out. Mares.

[E!]

He was getting closer, he could feel it in his very bones.. in the very matter that he was made up of, Bokara knew that he would soon see his beloved again - soon, his heart would be whole once more. Nose to the ground, sides heaving with the effort of keeping such a sustained pace for so long, Bokara kept forth, his strong muscles weary but full of iron-like strength that refused to let them stop. He had been searching for so long.. had been hurting for so long. Long after his burns had healed, Bokara had felt injured - and yet stronger than ever. For nothing could stop him from finding what he wanted, what he needed - Quinja. His ash-grey mares scent was faint, but Bokara was given hope by its very presence - it told him she was alive and well-enough to travel.

One thing that did not give him pleasure, nor any heart-warming feeling at all, was the fact that her scent was mingled with that of a stallions. The very thought of his Quinja being held by someone else made his blood boil and his heart drop. The feeling of anger was relatively new to him, for the bay was a peaceful creature who took pleasure in watching over his sweet mares and loving his beautiful Quinja, not fighting, stealing and bloodshed. However, he had gone so far and done so much to find the beautiful ash-grey mare that he knew he would not, could not, allow another horse to hold her if it was not what she wished. And then a strong southerly wind pushed itself into his handsome face, full of Quinja - along with others.

He was no longer weary, he no longer felt as if he had been traveling and searching for months without stopping - now he felt alive and strong and joyous. With a sound like thunder his hooves struck the ground, surging him forward with speed and strength that only comes to those who are desperate. He looked as beautiful as he had when they had first met, if not more.. for he had grown since then, and was now a handsome stallion in the prime of his life. A deep bay, glorious in sunlight, with silky black locks that surfed the wind as he moved, a well built, strong and sleek body, and of course, his beautiful fine boned face with eyes only for Quinja as he rounded a corner and came to a sharp stop.

There she was! Bokara reared, his great bay body looking beautiful and strong in the hot sun - the heat for which he was named waving in the air around him. His voice echoed through the gap as he roared - a sound filled with all the emotion that was within his body: joy, anguish, hope, love and many more besides. She was here, before him, only a hundred metres away. In the back of his mind, Bokara knew there was the threat of the other stallion, but how could he think of such things when Quinja stood before him, looking as beautiful as she ever had. His heart was whole once more, and Bokara would stop at nothing to keep it that way.

[sooty]

She stood there in the trees snorting quietly to herself in slight frustration. She wasn’t sure if it was mainly because he was still over there with those other mares she really did not approve of or if it was because the fact that he was over there with those other mares had gotten under her skin so much. They were just mares and he was just a stallion and this was what it was like in all herds, she had been in a herd before. She just always liked to be the centre of attention unless she has told everyone to go away but not in such a nice way. She snorts to herself again and shakes her head then looks away because she was no longer going to look like she was mad he was with them or that she wanted him with her that was not the game she played stallions came to her because as handsome as they were she was the pretty prize in her eyes.

AS she turns her head away from the rest of the herd movement in the trees catches her eyes. Her ears rotate around from their flat against her skull look to take up a more vigilant position pointing right where she had seen the movement. Then it came to her, sound one that told her she had not been imagining the movement and that what it was, was no danger.

An excited shiver ran down her spin but she held back from steeping forward remembering stallions came to her. She stretched out her neck and sniffed at the air. She could not smell to much but then again it would have been dumb of him to stand where his scent would be sent right in her and then the rest of the herds direction. So she stood perfectly still and waited until he popped his head out. At first she was a little shocked. It was defiantly not what she was expecting he looked so little. Well not exactly little but his face was so young he must barely be more than a colt. But she had to give him that he had guts to try and steal a mare like herself from a grown stallion.

She raises her head up a little, she didn’t want to look like she was slacking off in her making sure she looked good duties. She wasn’t about to run off with the little colt, she wasn’t silly, she could easily be his granddam but this could be some fun and show Mr gray over there what sore of mare he had with him and that he should be keeping a good eye out. He may be one of the most amazing built stallions she had seen and running with him may make her feel a little like a love sick filly again but he had to realise she was a high maintenance girl and others would want her.

She flicks her head to the side and sends her silver mane flying around her neck before she almost silently takes a few steps towards the young stallion until she was not far from him. His colour wasn’t too bad, he would stand out amongst the gays and blacks but she was a little sad he seemed so young she would like to see him a full grown stallion then this might really turn into a lot more, or at least provide a even more amusing fight with a not so guessable outcome when Mr gay spots him.

She lowers her head down at stretches out her neck towards the younger stallion and sniffs at him wanting to take in his scent while she could. Even if he was barely more than a little colt now maybe in a few years he would be worth looking out for if he grows up into a fine stallion. She flicks her tail and makes sure she holds herself nicely before throwing a quick glance over her should to see if her handsome Mr gray at noticed anything yet before turning her attention back to the young stallion. “We are feeling mighty brave today aren’t we?” She says quietly to him. She wanted to know how far this colt would go to try and take her from her stallion and then how far her stallion would go to make sure this young colt did not. She lifts her head up a little then adds ”I like that.”

Then there was the cry of another stallion behind her towards the herd. She swung her head around to look for where it had come from. She couldn’t see too much through the trees but she could tell what was going on and it just made her mood that bit worse. How was he going to notice that this colt was trying to take her away when he was being confronted by another stallion, who was a bit more obvious about his presence. She snorts and shakes her head, just her damn luck.

[Tiggs]

OOC: Kolya and Alinga splitting off into Dun Deceive Me. Carry on, boys!

She’d dreamt about this. She was sure it was just another daydream when she heard Bokara’s call. Lifting her head, she saw him as a visage. Heatwaves rising off the baked ground distorted his figure, but it was him. IT WAS HIM! Bokara! BOKARA! Forgetting everything, Quinja answered his call with the most gleeful whinny. Her stallion had found her! He had not been lost to the fire! He was here, he was alive!
She could hardly think, it was so wonderful. She could simply gaze at him all day, but she longed to feel his muzzle against hers, and the captivated mare started towards the bay stallion with slow careful steps, as if he might disappear if she moved too suddenly. She could not lose him again, but she knew now that they would never be parted. Bokara was hers, and she was his; forever.


Jiba lifted her head at the commotion, looking toward the bright bay with mild interest. So this was who her sister had been pining after. She had to admit, she could understand why. The stallion was full of a lust for life that Piringa lacked. Perhaps it was the warm colour of his coat. The roan mare kept chewing her mouthful and nickered thoughtfully to herself.

Quinja seemed to only have eyes for the bay stallion, forgetting the grey entirely. Jiba had not, and she looked to Piringa. The fury she saw there hardly rivalled the exciting thrill he had given her when he found Lark with her in the Boggy, but it brought the stallion alive. Jiba decided she liked Piringa a lot more when he was angry. It put a delicious spark in her eye.

The mare had no preference over who would win the fight that was certain to come, but she did wonder if this newcomer might put Piringa down for hustling her sister. Quinja and the bay were clearly enamoured with each other, and Piringa could suffer for depriving the bay of her. Alternately, she might find that she had picked the right stallion after all. With a detached casualness, the roan mare settled down to watch what would could be a brutal battle.

[Ehetere]

Suddenly there was a commotion behind him, and Piringa whirled around to face the sudden arrival of a bay stallion, rearing high as he emerged from the treeline. Nostrils flaring, he stood there for a moment more, assessing this apparent threat to his herd. The bay had come without warning, and Piringa could assume nothing else other than he wished to steal away his herd. And the grey had no intention of letting that happen.

Returning the bay’s call with his own trumpeting challenge, half rearing and striking out at the sky in anticipation for the battle that was sure to follow. Here were two stallions, both in the height of their strength, fighting for mares whom both held dear. Piringa could not know this was the stallion for which the roan grey mare held her heart, only that he was here and offering a fight. And as a stallion, he would defend his herd as he must.

He came forward then, striking out in a swift canter making sure keep his stride light against the earth. Piringa had come to know his strengths, and his weaknesses in battle. In winning the fight against his younger brother he had used naught but his strength, but this battle was far more evenly matched than against a young stallion two years his junior. Here his supreme strength lay in his agility, the swiftness of his movement and how he might dodge, parry and then strike. He was a horse built for stamina, endurance and a nimble turn of foot, and he would have to use this to his full advantage if he was to win this battle.

Tensing his body for the initial impact, Piringa pivoted as soon as he reached striking distance of the bay, preventing the other stallion from simply sidestepping his charge to send him barreling past. He offered a bucking kick before he righted his balance again, ready to fight for his mares.

[dreami]

ELINYA-

She watched from a distance, the dappled mare was most comfortable that way. Grazing on her own, senses alert with part of her mind on the herd and part on what else could be out there. She wasn’t used to relying on someone else for safety – it was a foreign concept she wasn’t quite willing to accept. Elinya watched large eyes and dished head raised for a moment as she observed the herd, there were dynamics that she didn’t even try to figure out. She had a place on the outskirts which suited her fine, she didn’t need to be at the center of attention like other mares. Though it was interesting to watch a mare she had grazed with a short while ago walk away from the pale stallion. It was a foreign concept where she came from, something that never happened and her respect for the roan mare heightened slightly as she figured she was still seeking the bay stallion. Grazing at some distance, enjoying the shadows cast by the trees was proving ideal on the shady day. Her nostrils were filled with a new scent but before she could re-act the scene was unfolding. The little instinct she had drove her towards her stallion, though with the sudden appearance of a bay she stopped dead in her tracks. He wasn’t here for anyone but Quinja, the grey mare knew instantly who he was – while she didn’t know him at all. Auds perked she took in deep breaths, walking now she watched intently the next few moments could change the comfort she had put in knowing where she belonged.

She watched Piringa approach the bay, sizing up the stallions she paired the match to be decent and perhaps it was odd of her but her mind split in who she had confidence in the part of her that saw the bay stallion as the victor was ashamed that she doubted her own leader but the part of her that placed her protector on top was let off as naive and unrealistic afraid of the reality that he whom she laid her trust in might not always come out on top. That was where her real dilemma stood, her inability to ever let someone watch her back – the consistent need to feel in control and aware of her surroundings. Even now while full absorbed in the scene about to unfold she had eyes on the back of her head so to speak, her nostrils were flared to pick up scents that didn’t belong to those in the herd. She walked slowly, giving the pair their space but she placed herself on the side of Piringa – if the stallions were standing on respective sides and teams she would clearly have laid her trust in her leader which was the obvious choice. While she knew Quinja put her faith in the bay horse she didn’t know that she could do the same. Piringa had proven himself thus far, proven that he wasn’t something to be overlooked.

She was quiet, not to be a distraction but that wasn’t new. She didn’t know the other horses by name, perhaps it was rude that it didn’t exactly concern her but it was the truth. She would learn them with time, as needed and in return she didn’t expect anything different. Watching the stallions still she was concerned for more than the potential battle about to unfold, not only was this risking the stallions personal health but the safety of the herd as well, she had seen it more than once a herd be separated and lost while two competitors were distracted with battle. She took it upon herself to keep an eye and ear scanning the horizon consistently; her senses were on overload to say the least. Still silent she watched, always in the outskirts giving everyone all their own space.

[E!]

There was nothing in his big brown eyes, in his big strong heart, but Quinja. She was alive, she was here, she was his. There were no second thoughts, no worries, no cares but knowing that she was here and his once more. Or so he thought. He gave not one moment of his mind or his body to the other horses around him and the beautiful mottled grey figure coming toward him, so it came as a huge surprise to him when something big and white and strong came hurtling from seemingly nowhere to confront him and offer up a fight. He tore his gaze away from Quinja in confusion, his shining eyes hurt and exhausted. His exhaustion soon turned to fury, what more could and would the world throw at him before he could have his soul put together again!?

A tortured war cry raged its way out of his dry throat, his muscles bunching together as he lunged at the creature that would stand between him and Quinja even now, after all this time. He reared, magnificent in the heat for which he was named - but weary from chasing Quinja across the High Country, pushing the limits of his physical strength. Despite his weariness, he was given strength by his anger at this one last obstacle. His teeth snapped as he brought his hooves down heavily, aiming for any piece of the pale body before him, just wanting the battle to be done and over so that he may finally rest beside Quinja.

The white horse was like a fly, zipping to and fro with speed and agility that Bokara would no doubt have possessed if his limbs did not feel like lead dragging him down to the earth for their weariness. As it was, he struck out with the strength lent to him by frustration and desperation, fighting only because he knew it needed to be done. He could hear his own breath and the beating of his heart, and yet he fought strongly still, snaking his neck forward, teeth bared as he attempted to grasp a piece of white neck to shake his foe with.