The Old Creamy [O]

[Corowa]

The wind was up. It tore through the tops of the snowgums, and the bare branches creaked and moaned. Wilgee lifted her head. An easterly, it carried with it the threat of bad weather. The bush here was so dry; it would not take much to set it alight.

Her ears caught the distant rumble of thunder, but it was still many miles off. It would be some time before it reached this far west. Wilgee snorted, stamping a forefoot at the flies. She would be glad to see the end of this hot weather, if only to put a stop to the plague of stinging bush flies.

In under the shade of the trees, the grass had been churned to dust by hundreds of head of cattle. They had milled here, seeking shade in the hottest parts of the day. At first, the smell of them had unsettled the creamy mare. But the tracks were old, eroded by the wind. This had only been a stopping point, somewhere for the cattle to rest before the stockmen drove them on to higher country.

The steep-sided gully was a good place for a lone brumby. There was still plenty of grass, and bush enough to hide her unusual colouring. The hut at Cascade creek stood empty, visited only by the occasional bushwalker who posed no threat to the wild brumbies.

Wilgee picked her way slowly out of the covering trees, old instincts keeping her wary. The mare knew she was no longer as fast as she had once been. Her muscles were often stiff now, worn by years of hard use. Yet the sunlight still made her creamy coat gleam, still played through the silver hairs of her mane and tail. She remained an attractive mare, coveted by the few stockmen that had seen her.

A twig cracked, and Wilgee was instantly alert. Her head shot up, and her nostrils flared wide. It would take only one or two strides to reach the trees, and confident that a stockman, no matter how good, would be forced to slow by the thick scrub, the old creamy mare stood her ground.

OOC: Wilgee is just south of Yarraman's Valley so none of the King's herd would have spotted her.

[Tiggs]

A gale had picked up the further he came from Dead Horse Ridge. He had passed through Yarraman’s Valley, following a path that took his well out of the King’s way. The dun colt had long lost Dulloora’s trail, and he followed the path out of nothing else to do. His mind was elsewhere, thinking of fillies and more importantly, how to collect them. It seemed the silly creatures had a mind of their own, and the young stallion was having trouble impressing them despite his many fine features.

As a healthy and somewhat handsome young stallion, Kolya could not see why he was encountering such trouble. Perhaps it was just that his strength was untested. As yet he had no reputation. He needed to start making a name for himself, was that it? Snorting, the colt pushed through the dry scrub, feet heavy and noisy as he came into a wider opening. The ground was hard-packed and dusty, and the wind buffeted his mane, throwing the black strands in all directions.

Snorting dust from his nose, the colt opened his eyes to see a creamy mare stood under the shade, her flaxen mane and tail thrown about by the wind the only movement she made. Caught by surprise, the grullo colt simply stared emotionless at the mare, one hoof still raised. Her golden coat seemed in good condition, and the colt was unaware of her relatively old age. Her eyes were bright and knowing, and Kolya was glad to come across a real mare for once.

The wind howled and changed direction, bringing her scent to him, and Kolya snapped out of his reverie. Tossing his head, the colt trumpeted a greeting, half-rearing on bunched haunches. He seemed not to care that the King’s herd could be not far away, and that the man’s hut was just a short gallop down the Cascade creek. He saw only the mare, and it was clear the colt put his goal before his senses.

[Corowa]

Wilgee stepped back in surprise when an odd, brown-coloured colt appeared suddenly before her. She had been expecting a man alone on foot, or even that big dun stallion who ran with his herd up in Yarraman’s Valley. It was only that the wind had been blowing the other way that she had not scented him.

The colt was very young, perhaps one or two years old. He had all the confidence of a colt coming into the first flush of strength, and the mare regarded him with mild interest as he went up on his hind legs.

Wilgee had evaded pursuit by stallions for years now. It was not strange that this impertinent young colt believed he could steal her away. She knew how prized her pale colouring was amongst the other brumbies. Even to the stockmen, she was attractive.

A breeze gusted through the gully, stirring up a cloud of dust. The snowgums buckled, their branches heaved this way and that by the sheer force of the wind. The smell of rain grew stronger, and the day grew steadily darker. Wilgee stood watching the colt with a contemptuous expression, outraged that he had chosen to so loudly announce his presence.

“Why do you choose to deafen the whole High Country with your trumpeting? I am standing only a few yards away, and while I may be old, my ears are as sharp as ever.” The mare swished her tail scornfully, and laid back her ears at the colt. He had better keep his distance unless he wanted a well-placed kick for his troubles.

[Tiggs]

There! He saw that glint of recognition in her eye as he reared. She saw his potential. And then it all faded away, her expression turning sour as he called out to her. What? What was wrong with his voice? He expected her to be pleased that he greeted her loudly. Clearly he was brave stallion, not scared by the prospect of another stallion hearing him.

Snorting irritably, the colt stamped a hoof and tossed his head. He started toward her, but kept his distance at her non-verbal warning. She would dare kick him!? Squeling, the frustrated colt was quickly losing his patience and it was showing in his insolent behaviour. “I am Kolya! For the frozen winter. You would come with me now, mare, for you are alone and I claim you,” he told her, sure that she would come to her senses if he explained it. Dulloora had wanted to talk, so he supposed that was what mares liked.

He nickered to her, in what he assumed was a charming way. His freckled nostrils fairly quivered with her scent, and he inhaled deeply in order to catch as much as he could off the blustery wind. The mare was certainly much older than him, but the colt seemed not to care. To him, her gender alone made her a target of his interest, regardless of colour or age. He had to admit though, there was something about a creamy hide that made his heart beat a little faster. A creamy in his herd would certainly build his prestige!

[Corowa]

Wilgee’s nose wrinkled and the mare struck out violently with her foreleg. That this Kolya should think he could bully her into going with him! She was not some timid, pliable filly. Better he go back to Yarraman’s Valley and try to find a jealously guarded daughter or two to steal. It was obvious he was a dolt. He had not even reached his prime, and yet he thought he could force a mare many times his years to run meekly by his side.

The brown colt maddened her, and Wilgee felt herself trembling with a barely contained fury. She was reminded suddenly of the bad-tempered Thalera, and she was almost blind with anger as she advanced slowly on the colt. Her head was low and ears laid flat. Not even a day-old foal could miss the intent, the threat that was visible in every line of the cream mare’s body.

“Why should I choose to follow an arrogant young colt over all the others?” Wilgee spat. "You’d lose me to the first stallion we ran into.” The mare flicked her tail dismissively, deciding that the colt was not worth her time.

Wilgee turned and started heading towards the spot where she had been grazing only a couple of minutes before. Just then, there was a long, low rumble of thunder, and the first drops of rain hit her sweaty rump. It was only a light sprinkling, but the dusty ground greedily soaked up the few drops of moisture. Wilgee knew that heavier rain would be here soon, and she wanted to find somewhere that would be out of the worst of it. Somewhere far away from this loud and annoying colt.

[Tiggs]

The colt’s charm was short lived as the mare struck out. The colt squealed indignantly. How dare she! First Dulloora, and now this insolent creamy hag?! Tossing his head, the dun colt became enraged. He matched her glare and stood his ground, lifting his head and flagging his tail imperiously. Now she was walking away from him! The nerve of this bitter old mare. “Because you are a mare! It is your duty to follow the stallion that claims you! I see no stallion here, and so that makes you mine,” he said, stamping a striped hoof down.

As if obeying his very command, the heavens gave a thunderous rumble as his hoof struck the ground, and the hiss of rain began to fill the air. It fell lightly on them as the clouds mustered overhead like angry cattle, and Kolya reared, feeling the power of the storm brewing inside him. This mare would be his, the High Country was on his side. “You come back here right now, creamy,” he demanded, stalking after her with a snaking neck. He seemed not to realise how dangerous close he was to her hooves, or even that this mare – if she put her mind to it – could beat him as easily as a stallion in his prime.

All Kolya could think about was having this mare. To see her walk quietly after him everywhere. He would take her across the whole High Country, and all the other colts and stallions would be jealous because he had a creamy and they didn’t. She would grow fat with his foals and those foals would be just as powerful as him, and just as beautiful as her. He would have her. He had to have her. She was his.

OOC: Kolya's lesson number ten in how to be a douchenozzle.

[Corowa]

Wilgee had not expected the colt to be stupid enough to follow. Yet he menaced her, head low and neck snaking. Wilgee gave a furious scream. Her ears were pinned, and she lashed out violently, intent on laming that bad-tempered brown colt. The mare was enraged by the fact the colt didn’t seem to take her seriously. He must realise a reluctant mare offered some danger.

Wilgee swung around, open-mouthed, warning the brown colt off. “You come any further, and the currawongs will tell of the colt whose bones lie down by Yarraman’s Valley.” She snapped at him, her teeth closing on air.

At sheet of lightning lit the sky, and Wilgee melted back into the bush. She knew every rock and hollow of this deep, scrub-filled gully. The mare walked quickly and quietly through the trees. Thunder crashed, and the rain fell steadily now, soaking into the dusty ground. Wilgee couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the rain, but it was best to keep going. If the colt caught her a second time, the mare knew she would have to stand and fight.

The ground flattened, and there was the sound of running water. Wilgee knew she must be quite close to Cascade Creek. The wind was roaring now, and there was the cracking of branches as it tore through the tall-branched mountain gums. By now, the mare was feeling extremely nervous. If she could keep ahead of the brown colt, she just might be able to reach Yarraman’s Valley before he caught up to her.

[Tiggs]

Kolya was stupid enough to advance on an angry mare, and chase after her too. He shrugged off her threats with a disparaging laugh; did she think he was afraid of her!? A simple mare!? Pah, she was about as threatening as a drowned wombat. Lightning filled the sky, and the colt felt the following rumble of thunder shake his very bones. He quivered with excitement, squealing almost playfully as the mare lashed out at him.

She daren’t hit him, she was just playing with him, teasing him. Turning, the older mare went into the bush at a walk. Kolya chuckled. She was playing. He gave her a head start of a few heartbeats and then set off after her, plunging into the bush.

He realised after a few strides that these were not the sort of paths he could run down. Squealing in pain as a wispy gum branch hit him across the nose, the brown colt slowed to a trot. Unlike the mare, he made a racket that he could hear over the rain, and the deeper he ploughed into the bush, the slower her became. The was no sign of the mare, not even a twitch of her enticing silver tail.

Screaming over the howling wind, Kolya stumbled onward, squeezing down kangaroo paths and struggling through the tight press of trees and bush. How did that infernal mare get anywhere in here?! The darkness brought on by the storm made everything look the same, and the colt was soon completely lost.

Branches and thorns tugged at his coat, scratched his face and jabbed his eyes. He struggled over the sloping terrain, tripping and stumbling over roots and rocks like a newborn. The trees did thin eventually, and he came to a rushing river. He was sure for a moment that he caught scent of the mare, and he tossed up his head, lip curled. The scent was gone as soon as it had come, and the colt stamped a hoof and let out a furious neigh that was whisked away by the spiralling wind.

He was sure the mare was just out of sight, mocking him. That infernal creamy would rue the day she led him a merry chase through this packed bush, “Mark my words, nag!” He screamed, “When winter comes, you will feel the sting of its teeth and the kick of its hooves! You will die alone in its grasp, and I will not save you!” Rain stung his pelt, but not as much as the mare had stung his ego. Wind slapped his own wet mane against his face, and his tossed his head wildly. With a last shrill scream, the colt thundered away down the clearer path along the river’s edge, no doubt to find somewhere dry to nurse his bloodless wounds.

[Corowa]

Wilgee crossed the creek at a trot, and headed into the dense scrub on the opposite bank. She stopped to catch her breath and listen. Farther back into the bush, she heard branches splinter and break. Her ears pricked. Twice, she heard a stallion’s roar, and the mare backed quietly into the sally gums then. The brown colt was closer now, and Wilgee turned and began to hurry.

The mare knew there was a stockman’s track that led all the way to Yarraman’s Valley. She kept to the tall gums that bordered the track, where her pale colouring would not show up so clearly. Wilgee crossed another big creek, stopping to snatch a few hurried mouthfuls of water. The going was tough. The track steepened, twisting its way up through the thick timber.

Wilgee kept going. The rain had eased, and the last distant rumbles of thunder sounded far off to the west. Presently, Wilgee realised that the colt no longer followed her. Still the mare trotted on. She did not think it was safe to return yet to that slope-sided gully. Wilgee shivered. That brown colt might be there waiting for her.

The country around the mare became more open, the thick bush thinning to a few stumpy snowgums. In the wide valley below, she could see a small mob of brumbies scattered across the open plain. Wilgee stopped in the safe covering of trees. That dun stallion was very strong looking, and she did not want him to see her. Instead, Wilgee turned and struck off at a trot. She intended on going east, to where the rough waters of Cascade Creek emptied into the Thredbo.

[E!]

Burley had been content for almost a week now, her need to travel sated by the places her and her new found stallion Talgan moved to. They were on the outskirts of Yarramans Valley now, and Burley had found herself fascinated by the thought of the dead king underneath her very hooves. Her need to investigate had gotten the better of her, and leaving Talgan to graze with a soft touch she had paced her way closer to the valley. A sound caused her to jerk her head upward, ears flicking forward nervously. Long gone were the days when she would have danced happily forward to greet whomever had made such a sound - the dangers were too high! For her, and for her beautiful sun stallion mate.

However, she still had a burning curiosity, especially when a familiar voice sounded up ahead. Burley picked up the pace, her white blaze and stockings flashing through the scrubs like rabbits tails. She kept quiet, slowing as she approached the scene. A young stallion, perhaps still a colt, was speaking to a strangely familiar figure. Burley watched, light brown eyes intent on the creamy mare. And then it clicked! This was Wilgee! They had shared a brilliant afternoon playing together as fillies, before a stallion had approached. Burley had long forgotten the stallion, but she remembered Wilgee. Then everything went haywire, along with the weather, and Wilgee was gone in a flash of rain and wind. Burley followed quietly, careful to avoid the raging colt, hide shivering at his rage. Her Talgan would never get so angry, she was certain.

She followed Wilgee, reminiscing. What fun they had had! Dancing and leaping through the snowgums and the sunlight. There she was, just ahead, trotting swiftly eastward. Burley trotted forward, head raised in greeting to the creamy mare, letting loose a quiet call, eyes bright as she hoped that the creamy might remember her in return. How amazing, that she was still free after all this time! It was a hard thing to accomplish, what with their creamy coats, so distinctive within the bush.