The Spring Sun (dooloomai mares/open)

[byrch]

(ooc: so glad that I can post!)

The morning sun blinked over the mountains. Dooloomai snorted softly to himself. Winter was almost over. The snow was melting, but grazing was still hard to come by. He managed to keep his mares alive throughout the winter, thanks to the two travelling mares that were with him. They knew where all the good grazing was, and where to find it. The only trouble was keeping other herds away from it. Dooloomai had done a decent job of that, usually just by his bulk and new confidence. He no longer was the large, scared colt he used to be, but a powerful stallion that didn’t need to push and shove to get his way.

Giving a huge yawn, he stretched out, shaking out his cold muscles. Blinking, he looked to the mares. Mayrah, her beautiful gray coat even whiter than last year. Uralla, taller then the rest of his mares, was a beauty in her own right. Her tall legs gave her speed and grace that he would never know. And Ballook. The injured mare had recovered much over the winter. Stallions and colts weren’t harassing her, with Dooloomai to protect her. It had been a hard winter, but somehow Dooloomai got through it all right. All the mares bellies were big, heavy with up coming foals. It was to early for their foals to come. Dooloomai couldn’t wait for them. Foals were something to be proud of, he always liked baby sitting in his old family. It would be far more difficult with his own family, chasing off wayward colts and fighting rival stallions, but there were joys to be had.

Pleased with that thought, he walked over to Uralla, nickering softly. A chill ran through the stallion as the sun hit his back. The night had been chillier then before, but the bright sun promised of a warm day.

[Ehetere]

Golden light spilled out over the landscape. The bay mare lifted her noble head, nostrils gently flaring. For the first time in months, the sunlight offered some promise of warmth, rather than a brittle, pale glow. The promise of spring was carried in the wind, in the murmurs of night creatures as they stirred in their hollows, and in the now gushing mountain streams. The snowgrass seemed slow to wake from its winter slumber, only dull green-grey patches left from the season past as the snow melted, offering little nourishment. As a result, the little herd had to wander often to find any sort of fresh growth that peeked above the melting drifts.

Her gaze drifted to where her stallion stood, watching over the little band dutifully. Uralla would never have thought she would settle into herd life so easily, convinced she was even more free spirited than her mother. As a filly, she had daydreamed of finding a stallion who loved to wander as much as she, a strong dependable bay, who would be content with none but her company and the whisper of the wind in high places. Realistically, this was just that: a filly’s daydream. There was something warm and comforting about a herd that she had never truly appreciated until now, and the solid roan stallion who led them was as dependable as they came. Uralla knew the wanderlust in her might never die, but she hoped that she had chosen correctly in Dooloomai - and hoped his patience would hold when she could no longer stand it and had to follow her curiosity, if only for a time. Her dear dam had settled for a similar life had she not? Perhaps there was more freedom in this than solitude.

A faint movement at her side, and Uralla stretched her neck to gently touch the ever growing bulge of her stomach. She wondered absently whether this restlessness she felt had anything to do with the foal growing inside her. She knew that she would have to wander far before birthing it, yet she could not imagine how it could grow any larger! Soon she would not fit between the trees and shrubs, once swift movement already hindered by the weight. All the same, her heart swelled to think of the beautiful filly or colt that would be born to her, and all the adventures they would have. She was determined to pass on all the bush knowledge she had learnt from her old mother, though the task was daunting, she looked forward to it all the same.

A soft nicker dragged her attention away from the future, and she wickered deeply in response at her stallion’s approach. Truly, she had been blessed in finding such a kind hearted horse - many stallions were loud and boisterous, but Dooloomai was calm, strong and caring. Admittedly, none of the former would have held the bay mare for long, she was much to cunning to ever be kept by some brute, but she was happy she had found the opposite. The morning was peaceful, with the warm sunlight and the faintest breath of wind. After a chilly night, warmth was the perfect remedy. She snuffled affectionately at his shoulder and lay her head across his withers, the still shaggy hairs of his winter coat tickling at her muzzle. This was bliss.

[Tiggs]

Winter’s grip had loosened, but the hard season had taken its toll on the good grazing. The band of horses had been finding it hard to find grass untouched by the ravenous animals of the High Country. With Spring on the way though, the new shoots were a gift and Mayrah put all of her focus on eating as much as possible. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so hungry! The winter had not been the worse she’d ever seen, far from it, but this was the first year that she carried a foal inside her.

The idea filled her with an overwhelming joy. She was twice the age of most mares when they had their first foal – she had thought the day would never come. She cast a fond glance over to her stallion, nickering softly between mouthfuls to reassure herself that he was still there. Dooloomai had proven himself to be a mature stallion, and – like Uralla – she couldn’t believe how easily she had settled into herd life. Once so content to roam far and wide just by herself, she could not imagine being without Dooloomai for long.

The snow was hard-packed and grimy, but with her winter coat still warming her, she was starkly alabaster in comparison. There was not much colour left to her now, only some darkness around the knees and peppered through her mane and tail remained. She would be perfectly pristine by the time the first fresh snows of next winter fell.

Tail flicking against her rump, she smiled as Dooloomai moved over to young bay Uralla. With her graceful legs and lean figure, Uralla’s belly looked bizarrely out of proportion, but it hardly detracted from her beauty. The younger mare was the last of the fillies Dooloomai attracted last season, and Mayrah had taken to the dainty bay easily. Ballook, the youngest of the mares, had recovered well, and Mayrah loved the company of the kind blue roan. And then there was Dooloomai himself, the broad corn-marked roan with a kind heart and sensible head.

Nickering to Ballook to join them, the grey mare ambled over to Uralla and Dooloomai with that odd swaying walk of a dam-to-be. She put her nose to Uralla’s spine, gently grooming the bay mare as the morning sun warmed her and gave her pale coat a golden hue. Exploring had its delights and wonders, but there was something blissful about being surrounded by friends on a brisk spring morning.