The Brumby Drive (O)

[Corowa]

A stockman sat on his fine bay horse up overlooking the valley. There was quite a few head of brumbies spread out on the wide plain, some good-looking stock mixed in with the usual roughies.

Tom fingered the rough rope that lay coiled round his saddle. It had been a tough year, what with the drought and all further south. Even this side of the border, some of the smaller stations had gone bust. Jack Ogilvie, one of the only men he respected, had been forced to sell off most of his prime stock. Better than watching them starve, Tom supposed. Yet the silly old bugger had drowned himself in his dam not long after.

While the bottom had fallen out of the wool market, abattoirs were still buying up cheap meat. Tom reckoned if he could bring in a few head of stock back, he might be able to make a few quid out of it in Cooma.

Beneath him, Jack stood stock still. The horse’s sides were covered with white lather, and he swished his tail impatiently. He jigged sideways as Tom slowly unfurled his stockwhip, the stockman’s steely gaze never leaving the grazing brumbies. If he was lucky, most of the horses would bunch together, and he’d be able to drive them right into the yards at Dead Horse Hut.

The stockwhip cracked, echoing out over the mountains. Jack sprang forwards. The big bay horse took the bit clean between his teeth as he raced down the steep track. Never once did he stumble on the rough ground. Tom sat lightly in the saddle and gave the horse his head. For a moment, man and horse were lost in amongst the thick timber. Then the stockwhip swung with a blistering crack, and they were there only a few hundred yards from the startled mob.

OOC: Any brumbies who want to be part of this can join. If you want your brumby roped/caught, please let me know. You can escape at a later time from the stockyards if captured, or stay on and be broken in by Tom.

[byrch]

(ooc: I'm fine with Myorli being caught/roped, as long as she gets to escape at a later time from the clutches of TOM end ooc)

Myorli walked through the gums, patches of sun and shade scattering around her. Stopping just short of the tree line, she spied bands of brumbies, with plenty of stallions and colts to woe. Hesitating, Myorli took a breath, and walked out into the open. Watching the other brumbies, she made her way smoothly to a small patch of grass. A few of the other brumbies looked up, but went back to grazing. Laying her ears back a bit, annoyance coursing through her at their ignorance at to what beauty really was. She threw her head up, did her own battle cry to alert any stallions that she was here. Prancing around, her coat glittering in the sun, she went right up to a few horses, wheeling away from them to try and get a chase started, and snorting in frustration when none chased her.

CRACK

Myorli stopped her game of self-tag, looking around, as did the other horses. Slightly confused, she put her head down, as if to graze, but watching the surrounding forested areas.

CRACK

There it was again! Myorli stood confused as horses raced passed her, the whites of their eyes showing. Looking around, she caught sight of what was driving everyone on, a horse... wait, no a manon a horse was racing down the hillside, straight toward her!

She froze. Her mind went completely blank as to what to do. This was her first time seeing man, and she was terrified, yet intrigued by this creature. How he could control not just the poor horse he rode, but an entire herd to move the way he wanted to. She only thought of those things in split seconds, as he got closer and closer, until her mind finally clicked, and she turned and bolted away.

[Corowa]

Jack was blowing hard now, but Tom knew the stockhorse still had plenty of go left in him. A couple of brumbies peeled off from the main mob and headed for a patch of scrub, but the rest strung out behind a big, ugly brute. Tom dug his spurs into Jack’s flanks, and the stockhorse flattened out into a dead run. Jack kept at the heels of the galloping mob. Foam flew from the corners of the bay’s mouth, and he snorted with every stride.

The brumbies headed in the direction of the yards. A few of the young horses straggled behind the others, and Tom let them drop back. It wasn’t worth the effort it would take to get them down to Cooma.

Soon, only a dozen brumbies were in front of him. Tom rode hard along the flank of the mob. He perched in the saddle, one hand on his rope. He had thought that they were 1 mile out from Dead Horse hut, but as open country turned to bush, Tom realised that they were going the wrong way.

Tom swore as he saw the line of timber ahead. The mob must have swung farther west when they first started running, and now they were galloping for the rugged bush around the head of the Snowy River. It was too late to pull up. “Git on you bloody bastards!” Tom shouted, and he made the mountains ring with the crack of his stockwhip.

The mob scattered once they reached the trees. Jack flew over the broken ground; never once checked in his stride. Tom turned the stockhorse after the smaller mob, spotting a decent-looking chestnut in amongst them. He kept the brumbies in sight as they dodged in and out of the rough scrub. Jack knew his job well, and the stockhorse was right on the tail of the brumbies as they broke from the trees.

[byrch]

Wild eyed. Myorli never ran so fast in her life, passing brumby after brumby to get away from the man and his dark horse. Her ears turned back to hear if he came up behind her, though they only heard the pitiful cries of others and the thunder of hooves. And even they were drowned out by the thundering of her own heart, pumping so fast she thought it would leap out of her chest and take off on its own.

She didn't dare look back to see if she was losing him. The few brumbies that had managed to stay ahead of her all bunched together, and she decided to follow them. They probably knew this country better than her, and she desperately hoped they would lead her away from the man and his horse. They came upon some light scrub brush, which then started getting thicker and thicker. Myorli started to flag down, tripping and stumbling over uneven ground, but desperate to keep up with the mob ahead of her. Froth coming from her mouth, her breath coming in deep gasps, she galloped on, jumping over large logs and stumbling over those that had become part of the undergrowth.

Finally daring to take a peak back, Myorli's eyes widened even more. The man was right behind her, driving the herd on and her. Looking forward with even more determination, she plunged forward. Her feet seemed to grow their own eyes, for she didn't trip anymore, and soon caught up to the herd that she had followed. Indecision then found her, should she stay behind them and trust they knew what they were doing, or race ahead and try to get further away form the man and horse?

[Corowa]

When the panicked mob finally broke from the timber, Jack was right there behind them. Tom swung his stockwhip high in the air and let it crack. The brumbies were running clear across flatter country now, and he kept Jack on the wing, in case they made another break for the scrub.

Jack was close to being licked, but the horse could have kept up with the best of them that day. He strained against the bit, and white lather coated his sides. There was blood on his flanks, but the stockhorse was still pulling like a steam engine. His ears were flat against his neck, and Tom knew Jack would work until he dropped.

They were close to Dead Horse hut now. Tom could see the high fence through the trees. He drove the mob on at a faster pace, pushing them hard as they went wide around a clump of snowgums. He’d left Bill tied up in the yard, to act as bait. The brumbies would sooner run into a trap, if they could see another horse already there. He could hear Bill whinnying. The big bay would know what was going on, and he must have heard the brumbies coming from at least half a mile off.

The shingle and slab hut burst suddenly into view. The leading horses had spotted Bill, and they headed straight for the yard. The gate was swung wide open, and they thundered through. At the last minute, they must have realised it was a trap. The mob wheeled around, heading for the open gate and their beloved high country.

But, Tom was there in instant, driving them back with a sharp crack of his stockwhip. He closed the gate, and snubbed it firmly. Bill was hobbled out in the middle of the yard, and the big bay started to whinny when he saw Tom. The stockman only shook his head. “Sorry old fella,” he said. “You’ve got to stay and mind this lot.”

OOC: Feel free to have Myorli talk to Bill. It's why I put him in there. He's a bay with a few white spots on his shoulder.

[byrch]

Taking her chances, Myorli swung slightly to the left of the mob of horses, and inched passed them. Taking the lead, but not trying to lead the other horses, she plunged through the tree line into an opening. Hearing the man's whip crack kept frightening her into more desperation to get away. Her muscles ached, her lungs burning to keep up with her heart and muscles. Sweat glistened off her, making her glisten like lava instead of bright flames.

Glancing behind her, she tried moving off to the left to the brush, where she might have a chance to get away. But another crack made her dash away, toward the center, the man and horse keeping the small mob on the straight away.

There were strange things in the distance, like trees, but with no leaves or branches. And strange mounds that didn't look like earth. Myorli tried to slow down, but the horses behind her kept her moving, lest she get trampled by them. As they came closer to this strange wood, she saw another horse within. He whinnied to the mob. Some of the other horses replied to his call. Myorli just focused on not falling from exhaustion and being trampled by the others hooves. THERE. A gap in the "trees" where the strange horse was, and where she might escape to. Calling on the reserves of her strength, she did sprinted ahead of the others into the break, passed the horse in there.

Finding that these trees didn't have space between to let her through, she reared up, trying to wheel around to get out. Many of the others had come in right after her, and realized the same thing. Their bodies crashed into hers, crushing her against the impassable "trees". She cried out, and just as soon as they had come unto her, they had left to get out before anything happened to them.

Legs spread out to try and hold herself up, Myorli was to shocked to notice that the other horses hadn't gotten out, the man had locked the gate behind the last one. Huffing, trying to get her breathe back, she looked around, wild eyed. Most of the horses were caked in sweat and dirt, all huffing and looking for a way out of this strange wood. One, however, was just standing there, looking calm as could be. Forgetting much of her original goals of flirting, she slowly made her way over to this horse, who had a very calming presence.

[Corowa]

Tom unsaddled Jack. The horse was still blowing hard, but his eyes were bright and he stepped over smartly when Tom shoved at his rump. The sweat had dried on his chest and neck, and there were bloody gouges on his flanks where the spurs had stuck in. Tom muttered under his breath when he saw these. He’d have to use some of the liniment he’d picked up from that blackfella just out of Tumbarumba.

Most of the captured brumbies bunched together at the end of the yard farthest from the hut. They paid no attention to the bay packhorse, but Bill watched them curiously. It astonished him that these horses should be so afraid of men. They were completely worn out, and he wondered where it was that they had been driven from.

Tom had left him hobbled, and so Bill stood and waited patiently until his master decided to come back. He had understood what the stockman had intended to do when he had first ridden out. Only that half-wild brumby colt had not known that something was about to happen.

Tom had left the colt tied some distance from the hut so as not to cause trouble. Bill heard him now, as the colt called every so often to the captured brumbies. Bill snorted. The old packhorse thought the colt was foolish. He had been only recently broken in, and was still rather spooky.

The small mob moved about restlessly. Bill watched as a plain-headed dun paced back and forth along the fence. There was the thump of hooves on ribs as the dun lashed out viciously at one of the other horses. A chestnut filly split from the rest of the mob, and Bill saw with some interest, that she headed right for him.

Bill’s ears pricked up, and the packhorse gave a friendly nicker. He hopped forwards a few steps, and then stopped. He hopefully stretched out his nose, although the old gelding did not expect the filly to come much nearer. “Where is it that you have come from?” Bill asked instead. “It looks as if you have all been run very hard indeed. "

[byrch]

(ooc: Myorli has never had contact with a humans horse, and doesn't know about geldings, so she's just going to think of Bill as a stallion)

Stopping just short of this strange horse, Myoli stretched her head and neck out, exchanging breaths with him. He smelled...different. Instead of the strong musty smell, his was more, mellow. Being much calmer than most stallions and colts she met, Myorli wondered what was wrong with him.

Hearing his questions, Myorli perked up, pointing her ears forward. "Well, I think we've been run from Dead Horse Gap, though I just got to the high country a few days ago." She tossed her head, hoping her to short forelock would land just right to impress this...stallion. She decided to be polite, at least in her mind, and address him as a stallion. Her breath now slowed to a reasonable pace, she took a step closer to him.

Hearing another whiny, she turned her head. In the distance, a colt was pulling against one of the strange branches, neighing to the newcomers. Perking her ears up, she gave her own seductive whicker, and turned her attention back to this stallion.

"Why are you limping? You don't seem to be injured, She nodded her head to his hooves, which were tangled in some strange, brown plant.

[Corowa]

The filly seemed more curious than afraid. It was unusual to find a brumby that would approach a tame horse so willingly. Most hated the sight of them, knowing they brought men to the mountains. Bill had spoken with only a few brumbies. They usually did not stay at the hut for any great amount of time, and those that did, very soon became tame themselves.

The filly tossed up her head, and turned in the direction of that half-wild chestnut. She replied to the colt’s insistent whinnying, and hearing the filly, Pilot strained back against the rope, stamping and snorting as he tried to break free.

Bill shook his head. That colt would never be any good. He must realise that he was never going to escape from here. It would be better if he learnt that lesson quickly. Bill knew Tom had no use for any horse that refused to be broken.

The filly seemed puzzled by the purpose of his hobbles, and Bill snorted. He had forgotten how strange many of man’s things were to the brumbies. So often were they frightened by the most harmless of objects. “I’m not lame,” the old gelding said indignantly. "They are hobbles. Men put them on horses to stop them from moving very far when they are not supposed to.”

As he stood talking with the filly, Bill saw Jack being led over to where Pilot still waited tied. Bill nickered to his friend, and the stockhorse answered his inquiries with a polite whinny. Satisfied, Bill turned back to the attractive chestnut filly and eyed her speculatively. So it was as he had suspected. This lot was indeed intended for Cooma.

[byrch]

Throwing her head around, snorting loudly, she proclaimed "WHY, that is so absurd! We're already trapped in this strange forest! Where would you go?"
Noticing he nickered to the dark horse that had chased them here, Myorli layed her ears back, glaring at that horse.

Whirling around, she cantered over to one of the "trees" and started sniffing it. She was determined to get out of here. After a few times skittering away from it, she mustered up her courage, and started biting at it. After a few times, getting nothing but splinters in her mouth, she gave up, walking along the line, looking into the other "forest". In it, was the dark chasing horse, and the colt who kept fighting his rope. The man was in there two. She neighed to the colt. "Whats going on?" She shouted to nobody in particular.

Wheeling around, she went back toward the hobbled stallion. Champing in submission, her head lowered, she asked, "What's going to happen to us?"