I've Got a Plan [o]

[Ehetere]

The streams sang with the coming of spring. After a winter that was neither harsh nor mild, with fickle weather and equally fickle temperatures, the snow was finally melting to leave for good. Stubborn drifts still clung to whatever purchase they could; low shrubs, the nooks and crannies between rocks, deep valleys. It was in one of these a tall young colt with a coat of gold bounded restlessly from the trees, loping over to where the melt gushed between the rocks to form a small creek. His delicate pink muzzle twitched as it entered the near freezing water, relishing the feel of it as it trickled down his throat. The winter had been unkind to the colt - grazing had not been hard to come by, by there were few bands of fillies left to their own devices and as a very young stallion this was making him restless: moreso even than the year previous.

The twinkle of birdsong echoed in the branches above him, and one of the flitting creatures dislodged a leaf which floated down to land on the gold stallion’s back. He flicked his ears back irritably, shaking himself all over. He promptly dropped to the slightly soggy and still frosty earth, rubbling his back vigorously. He itched all over, as if his winter coat as impatient as he to be rid of him. Heaving himself to his feet again he set to rubbing his side against the rough trunk of a nearby ironbark, satisfied as heaps of fluff were left behind. A shaggy coat was no way to attract a mate or catch the eye of an admiring mare, and Iluka was convinced if he could be back in his summer prime before the other males he would somehow have an advantage.

The fact of the matter was the colt had never won any fights, or had any sort of reputation to speak of. If anything, he’d garnered a reputation for being a pathetic coward - he’d run away from a yearling last year for goodness sake. Iluka couldn’t help it: the minute he saw a threat his mind went to mush and his only thought was escape. He’d been bold as a colt, traveling with his mother all over the country, but somewhere in his adolescence he’d taken the common sense of how to pick your battles and simply avoided them altogether. He was getting far too old for this, and he knew it, certainly without any mares to speak of. Roving bands of fillies were only easy prey so long as no other colts got there first, and it seemed there were so many more colts wanting a mare for themselves these days.

Ideally, Iluka would have loved to seduce a couple of the two year old fillies leaving their birth herds each year in the spring, before spiriting his herd well away. In time, his bulk would likely be enough to deter most stallions for coming after him too, however he was still young and inexperienced looking, baby faced and fresh in the game of being a good herd stallion. All he could hope for was that someone might make his task a little easier, because no matter what he thought, Iluka just wasn’t that bright.

[byrch]

The many streams were pounding with the melting snow. Narahdarn wandered through the nooks and crannies of rocks, her legs and hooves splashing up the chilly water. A shiver ran through the filly, and she cantered through one to the dry side. Shaking her massive neck, she reached her head down to munch on some shoots of grass. She was in no condition to be stingy on what she ate. Her coat was still shaggy, and while some hair was starting to come loose, most clung to her for dear life. She hadn’t done well that winter, having driven off star crossed colts and hiding from stallions. She hadn’t had a chance to talk with more experienced mares that knew where good grazing had been. She just wandered into all the worst areas for grass in winter.

She sighed. She had tried going back to the nightrunners before winter had set in, but had been chased off by jealous mares. Feeling lonely wasn’t as fun as she thought it was going to be, and she would settle for any company now, even a grumpy mare or irritated stallion. Just so she wasn’t alone. The dingo’s had almost gotten her multiple times, but she somehow was able to hold onto life.

Stepping forward for another snatch of grass, she saw a golden colt roll, not fifty paces away from her. She froze, mouth still open for that small bit of grass, eyes staring at him. He had white markings on his face and legs. As he got up, she saw he had patches of winter hair, and lifting her head, giggled softly. He moved to a tree, scratching at the fur stuck on him. She turned her own head, looking at herself. She was in no good condition, and her coat was shaggy. Her ribs stuck out, and her hips peaked. Her neck had lost some muscle tone over the winter, but it didn’t detract from her, it actually added something, so she didn’t look all deformed. Thankfully, her legs were in good condition.

She stood there, watching him. Normally, she would just turn and walk away, and if he caught her scent and followed, she would chase him. But this hadn’t been a normal winter, she spent to much time alone on cold nights to be picky now. A bit of her old ways came, and if he was to be a bother, she’d leave. Being happy with her decision, she stepped toward him at a walk, nickering a greeting. Her ears pointed forward, with a slight smile on her lips. She was to nervous to say anything yet, and would let him say the first greeting.