Unbelievable [o]

[Ehetere]

Ah spring. The end of winter always ignited a fresh fire under the creatures of the bush, invigorating the landscape with new life. The dainty filly shared her mother’s love for the wild whiteness of winter, though she could not yet share her ability to become one with it. Perhaps that was why she relished the coming of the warmer months - snow was not nearly as fun when you could not melt into it like a ghost.

Whatever the case, the call of the high mountains was ringing in her blood again and very early she had begun her ascent back into the High Country in the direction of the Ramsheads. Her old stamping ground was demanding her presence, and she longed to gallop heedlessly along the range again. All the landscape in the world could not hold her forever, and eventually her social needs would pull her south again, but for now she was content to run and canter and trot, leaping streams with far more enthusiasm than necessary just because she felt like it.

Paler than she had been the previous year, the young mare still had a dusky brown hue about her, but there was little doubt she’d get her wish to be as white as snow within a year or two. Her coat no longer blended with the landscape, and soon it would be standing out like a stark white banner as her winter coat shed out, with the promise of lighter hairs beneath. This pleased the filly greatly, as she’d been surrounded by white-greys all her life and frequently told of how beautiful and desirable such a coat was, albeit by her mother.

Hopping playfully over a rotting log, she slowed her pace to a swinging walk, tail swishing the only indication of her still barely contained energy. She’d begun traveling well before dawn, in the pale grey light that promised sunrise. The crisp morning weather felt perfect for traveling, a far cry from the sweltering temperatures produced in summer. Pausing briefly to take a mouthful of half melted snow that had collected near the bottom of a deep drift, she picked up the old scent of a stallion and his herd. Her ears perked forward curiously, still a little excited despite the creature not likely passing here since before the wintertime.

With spring came a new insistence to find a mate and bare a foal - her own mother had already chosen her partner well before now. Dulloora did not know how she could be so certain of her choice at such a young age, nor now her mother could be so content with such an old horse. The filly only bore vague memories of her stoic and temperamental father, but there must have been something there that had so captivated her mother, whom was as wild as the flowing mountain stream. Dulloora was equally determined to find herself a mate who might live up to the task, yet none of the hopefuls she had come across so far had given her any hope that she might find such a stallion. Perhaps none existed anymore, and that is why her mother had taken such an old horse for a mate. Regardless, Dulloora might somehow be more fickle and picky than her dam, and it would certainly take quite the stallion to keep her attentions from wandering.

[Tiggs]

OOC: Being a Boolee baby, she’s mildly related to Nevspawn, so the dice had to choose between the spots! And the dice roll said...

‘Quite the stallion’ was not exactly a description one would use for the sorry-looking chestnut stomping through the packed snow. He was more than a little lost, and the lack of food and lonely winter really showed in the state of his pelt. The once rich chestnut was a vaguely orange brown, and the patchy white roan across his back just looked like dirty unmelted snow. The colt wasn’t going to be living up to anything anytime soon, that was for sure.

What he did have was solid determination in his young eyes. It was a pity he didn’t know what to do with it. Pass that rock, climb that hill, drop down that slope, round that corner, cross that valley. The waning winter was stubbornly clinging on this high up, but there was a glimmer of hope that his mother would be sheltering up here. He remembered she liked the snow, she blended with it so well... Maybe he would find her here?

Maka was past the age that a colt needed his mother, but having been separated from her at such a young age, he felt incomplete. As if he couldn’t continue with his own life before he found her.

It was then that his nose gave a twitch, and he picked up the smell of a mare. Not his mother – who’s scent was instinctively ingrained in his mind – but a filly more of his own age. The unwanted desire to seek her out hit him so suddenly that he spooked, eyes rolling and head thrown high. He was three now, ready to collect up young fillies and start a herd. But he didn’t feel ready.

Shuddering, he shook his head and ploughed doggedly onward through the snow, ignoring the urge to find the filly. So it came as a surprise when the next time he lifted his head, she was a dead ahead. Had he followed the scent without thinking? The nervous colt glanced around, sure that there would be other colts or even a stallion nearby to chase him off. But no, it was just her. She was a dusky brown, paling around the face and legs as if the snow was casting a white glow on her from underneath.

He nickered, and winced at how youthful and frail it sounded. She had faired the winter much better than he, and he felt ridiculous for even greeting her. Tugging his gaze away, he forced himself to turn back. She hardly wanted to be bothered by a natty young colt. Somewhere in these Ramsheads (if that was even where he was) his mother could be grazing. He had to find her, didn’t he?