Moonlight Cascade (Dooloomai herd)

[byrch]

(ooc: this takes place while all his mares are off having foals, Tiggs and Ehetere, if you want to have your mares come and meet back up with him, your more than welcome too)

The sun was slowly sinking below the mountains. Dooloomai raised his head, looking up toward the purple and blue sky. His eyes were filled with a content sadness. All his mares were gone. Gone, to foal. Mayrah was the first to leave, then Uralla and Ballook. He missed them terribly, and the past couple days was fidgety and worried. His heart knew they would be back, but having all his mares gone at once? It was a terrible pain, worrying that he might never see them again, that they might get stolen when they tried making their way back to him. He snorted to himself, pinning his ears back at the thought. If any stallion thought to take them, he would find them, and get them back.

He started walking off eastward. He wasn’t going to go very far from this area; he had promised he would stay here so the mares would find him. A small band was off a distance to his left, not noticing the dark stallion in the dim light. He kept his distance just the same, he wanted nothing to do with them. All the stallions in the area were getting hot tempered with the foals coming and mare going into heat. Dooloomai was feeling the same hot temperedness, now made worse with his mares gone. Hearing a trumpet from the colt from the band, Dooloomai looked in their direction. The colt had his head high, tail held up, ears forward, ready for a challenge. Dooloomai snorted at the colt, continuing his small trek.

Something was pulling him to the cliff face with bushes. He had to keep checking to make sure he wouldn’t stumble off the cliff into the oblivion below. Reaching the bushes, he sniffed them. Snorting, he lowered his head to graze. Why he decided to graze in such a dangerous spot this close to nightfall, was unknown to him, he just had a feeling. Mayrah and Uralla’s adventurous ways were rubbing off on him, and he now travelled a bit more and enjoyed it in their company.

As he continued his slow movement of grazing, something caught his eye. Pausing, with his head still down, he looked over more toward the cliff side, past the bushes. Lifting his head up and over the bushes to get a better vantage point, he stared down the chasm. He could have sworn he saw something… There it was! Ears pricking forward, he watched as a family of wallabies hopped down a steep and rocky path that led up a little past him and down into the chasm.

Looking back over his shoulder, he made sure no horses were near, that his mares weren’t here. A curious curiosity peeked in him. This was what Mayrah and Uralla talked about when they spoke of their adventures. Taking a deep breathe, he wedged his way through the bush, and unto the rocky path, plunging into more darkness.

This was a bad idea, doing this alone, and at night when it was too dark to see anything. He walked slowly, the rocks clattering and clinking when his hooves touched the ground. Sweat started to soak his hide. I should turn around, he thought to himself. Looking back, he could just make out that the path was too small for him to turn around. *Only one way to go then, down* He trudged on, hoping he wouldn’t fall of the sides to his death.

The path got steeper. His muscles were burning with fatigue from keeping his balance and moving him forward, but he pushed himself onward. He’d have to reach the bottom soon. The moon had come out, and by a stroke of luck, lit his way down into the murkiness.

He stumbled as the path he was on leveled. He paused, smelling the ground. It smelled of grass, dew, and an old smell of wallabies. A bit confused, he took another whiff. *no horses have been here in a while* he thought. How strange. He wondered if either Mayrah or Uralla knew of this path. He looked up toward the top of the cliff where he had come from. The moon shone ahead of him and above him.

Curiosity won a fight against reason, he decided to go on, just a little further, to see what exactly this place with no horse smell was. Whiffing through his nostrils, he turned his head forward, only to catch his breathe. The moonlight cascaded across tall grass. Different kinds of gum trees, scattered throughout the valley, cast an eerily beautiful glow from the moon, illuminating even more of the valley. Looking up, he saw sheer cliffs on either side of him, the one he climbed down from, and another about 50 horse lengths away.

Ears forward, curiosity at its peek, he roamed around the valley. The grass was deliciously long. He thought *I must bring them here, this would be a perfect spot*. The valley continued some way, and he had not the time to explore it’s depth. Snorting that he must be finished exploring, he headed back to the narrow path.

Coming back up through the bushes at the top, he sighed a relief that he had made up alive, and looking around to see if any horse was about, trotted to his weary post, waiting yet another morning for his mares to return.

[Ehetere]

OOC: You can ignore the first section, its more backstory than anything.

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Motherhood was a strange thing.

It had taken some time for the bay mare to come to this conclusion, though she had been approaching it for some months. When her once lithe, ribby belly had begun to bulge with new life, or when it had begun to hinder her progress in the herd’s travels, or her own. Yet even as her time to foal grew near, none of it felt real, or even natural. Feeling oddly calm yet simultaneously unnerved, Uralla had departed from the herd a good week in advance to her foal’s arrival, drawn away by some innate instinct as well as her inborn wanderlust. She made no conscious choice about where to place her hooves, eventually being led as if by an invisible thread to the high mountains. And so it was on a night with a bitter wind but clear skies that her first foal was born.

The moon had long since set, offering no light to bring the small clearing into sharp relief, instead everything was bathed in darkness. The still swollen form of the leggy mare rose from the earth, silhouetted against the Milky Way. A damp tangle of fur and legs glinted dully at her feet. For a while, neither stirred, only the fickle wind gusting through distant tors lifting dark strands of mane.

The bay mare gazed dully off to the distant inky peaks, still pocketed with snow. Everything was numb. Shouldn’t she feel something? She dropped her head, delicate nostrils breathing in the foal’s scent. Her foal. Still none of this felt like it was hers. Her own mother had made it all seem so natural, so why was everything so strange to her? It almost felt wrong.

Finally the dark form shifted, coughing and wheezing pitifully to clear the fluid from its lungs. The mare remained transfixed, as though watching an alternative reality that was not her own. Experimentally moving new legs, dirt and grime matted together in damp fur as it fought to free itself from the sack that had been carrying it. Aside from a right hind sock and a tiny star, it was impossible to distinguish any colour at all; the foal was but a shadow on the ground.

The tiny creature tried to stand in vain, finally eliciting a response from the dark figure standing over it. Uralla snorted quietly, disbelieving at the phenomenon unfolding in front of her. She had half believed in her heart that the foal would be born dead. Turning away from the dark heap, she meandered back towards the safety of the bush, half in a trance without looking back. There was a half spluttered call of confusion as the foal - a colt - desperately tried to find his feet again. Half by chance, half by luck the colt stumbled drunkenly into his mother’s hindquarters back in the scrub, eyes wide and gleaming.

Uralla looked back at this unsteady foal as though she was surprised to find it there, for surely her own foal must be dead, and had been for months. She moved on, ignoring the colt’s attempts to nurse, until daybreak. Despite the uneven terrain, and the pace, the colt always kept at her flank or just behind. He recognised his mother, even though she did not recognise him. Her own personal shadow of the night. So that was what she called him.

When the bay mare woke in the dying rays of sunlight with a black foal at her side, she could still not shake the feeling of unreality, though the strange listlessness that had overcome her the previous evening was gone. She tried, oh she did try, to make this foal her own. She groomed the muck from his coat, she let him nurse, but it was like all the energy had been sapped from her being. Not even the colt himself held it, mousy grey like smoke-stained gum bark. Neither would know of the other dark shape that had been left behind in the clearing, half-formed brown and black fur never destined for the world.

-------

It took a great many days for Uralla and her new son to return to where Dooloomai had said he would wait. The mare was weak, both in body and spirit, and the foal was not the strongest either. Shadow’s earliest days were those of pain, as Uralla seemed unable to be his dam fully. The young mare was determined that she would learn to be a good mother, as her mother had been before her, but she lacked something that all mothers intrinsically needed. Even so, her bush-skills were not affected and they soon found old spoor of the blue roan stallion. The trail was days old, but the bay mare was ready to grasp any challenge that might renew her energy with all her might.

Her efforts led the subdued pair to a sheer cliff, with no apparent way down. Uralla peered cautiously over the ledge, wondering whether the stallion had slipped and fallen. Surely he would not have tossed himself out into space and the cavernous valley far below. In that moment, she was half tempted to follow him. But whatever depression had set in following the birth of Shadow, some remnant of her youth remained, spotting a barely discernable yet definite track snaking off into darkness below.

Performing the equine equivalent of a shrug, Uralla lined herself up and with the gathering of her quarters expertly dropped onto where she calculated the track began somewhere below. Her judgement was a good one, hardened hooves landing securely on solid ground. From above came the distressed warbles of the mousy colt, pacing back and forth nervously on the ledge, hanging his head over to see where his dam had landed. Moving on more instinct than sense, he leaped after her, almost sending them both plummeting down into the abyss and earning himself a swift nip on an oversized shoulder.

Moving with practiced precision, Uralla placed one hoof unerringly in front of the other in the dangerous descent downward. Shadow followed with the dogged loyalty or survival instinct that seemed to have been instilled in him, knowing that if he fell behind, he was left behind. His initial attempts were uncoordinated and noisy, sending a small flurry of stones tumbling down into the valley, but he quickly learned to place his dainty hooves in the same places as his dam’s in the dying light, watching them with dutiful intensity.

By the time they reached the valley floor the sun had well and truly set, with twilight giving way to evening and then night. The now familiar blanket of stars glimmered distantly, with only a sliver of moon barely casting a shadow in the unfamiliar valley. Uralla came to an abrupt stop, nostrils flaring and ears alert. Momentarily the gloom was cast off, shadow of a former self shining through as she assessed the queer nature of the hollow. Dooloomai’s scent was stronger here, but besides that there was an almost stagnant, unused air about the place, only matching the strange haunted feel that seemed to have hung over her for some time now. Confident she would find no living horse here besides her stallion, she let out a low echoing call into the inky black night.

[byrch]

The day had passed, and no sign of his mares. Sighing to himself, Dooloomai stretched out. It was late afternoon, when it seemed later than it was. Long shadows were cast from the gums and horses around. A couple of stallions tried challenging him, yet he stood his ground. He would not waste his energy on foolish colts hoping to impress young fillies and aloof mares they had stolen. Their attempts to get a rise were met with uninterested stares and tail swishes.

He began cropping at some grass, idly passing the time until the mares returned. Ears twitching toward random sounds, on their own radar, his eyes watching for the ghostly gray, burnt bay or dusty roan. He didn’t know what to do with himself with them gone. His hunger had driven him to eat, but he feared he’d miss them every time he blinked, every time he tried to get some sleep. He had lost weight during that week, not much, just enough to make his ribs apparent and hips a bit peaky. Winter had been good to them, or perhaps it had been Mayrah and Uralla’s bush knowledge that had saved them in close calls. He was glad that they passed on some of that knowledge to him, he might not have survived without it, alone that winter.

With thoughts of them, he thought of the strange place he had been too that pass night. It had been a haven, from what he saw. All that grass, no other scent besides a few wallabies. A safe place from other stallions and men. His foals could grow in safety before coming up into the dangerous bush. Nodding to himself, Mayrah and Uralla must know of this place, as well as Balook. Smiling, he thought how overjoyed they would be, that there was a safe place
for their foals.

***

Merri trotted along happily with Mother. His first few days of life, he had grown strong in their secret grove, where only the wallabies disturbed the peace. His legs became harder, though still baby soft, from all his running and playing on the rough stone. Slipping and falling were still a bit of a problem, but he was learning to manage his long spindly legs. His mousy brown coat shone in the bright sun. His mother was so proud of him, being able to keep up without encouragement. He loved the soft nuzzles she gave him, and the deep rumbles she made when she was happy.

They had left their secret grove a while ago, Merri didn’t know how long, only that he was with Mother. She was easy to find, with her blazing white coat, hot like the sun he had grown used to, and loved basking in both. He did find it hard, when they started traveling, to find her if he fell behind. She seemed to melt into the brush, and moved so silently. If he ever lost her, he let out a small whiny, and she always came back for him, doing her deep rumbles and ruffling his many a bit.

He now kept up with her, and was learning to put his feet where she put hers. He moved almost as silently as she did. Hearing new things, his ears were on constant swivel, along with his eyes, taking everything in. He bumped into Mother a couple times, too, not paying attention to her. He’d champ apologetically when it happened, and they’d continue. A couple times, he’d hear a sound that Mother would make, but wasn’t from her. He wondered if there were any others like them, or if they were the only ones in the whole world.

As he watched the world, Mother had taken off at a canter, calling out, and doing her deep rumbles. Terrified, Merri bellowed a shriek, and took off after her. She slowed down for him a bit, but kept to a canter. Bewildered at this strange turn of events, Merri saw the reason for her behavior. A large, very large one like Mother, but bigger, and dark blue, like a storm cloud, bellowed a greeting. If he thought Mothers deep rumbles were loud, his were like the thunder of the storms. The stallion came cantering to meet Mother and Merri, his hooves striking the ground, booming and resonating against rock. Merri moved to behind Mother, hoping that they would go away from the big horse, he was scary.

Mother and the stallion slid to a halt, sniffing each other, squealing and making all sorts of noises. Merri stayed behind Mother, hoping to not be noticed by the stallion. He was bigger up close, towering over him and Mother. He was scared that the roan would hurt Mother and him. Mother seemed pleased to see this stranger, her rumbles like rain to the stallions booming thunder. Merri peaked out from behind Mother, a couple of strands of her tail on his head.

After a while, a few short minutes, Mother turned so that Merri was no longer behind her. Freezing up, he stared straight into the brown eyes of the stallion. He began champing frantically, hoping he wouldn’t be hurt by this hulk of a horse. A few deep rumbles, and he recognized the stallion saying his name, “Merri”, and nodding to himself, nuzzling Mother. This was all so very strange. The stallion tried to start sniffing Merri, but Mother moved in between them, ears back a bit, her protective side coming in. Merri was glad to be behind Mother again.

***

Twilight had risen. Dooloomai had briefly talked with Mayrah when she had returned, overjoyed she was with him again. She had gotten to the busy task of grazing, and rightfully so. She looked a bit thin, but then, the last time Dooloomai had seen her, she had a big belly with a foal. His son was beautiful, albeit a bit shy. Dooloomai hoped he hadn’t frightened the little one, with his exuberant greeting of Mayrah. He sometimes forgot about his big size and deep voice, and how others reacted to it.

Standing watch over the two, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Merri. The colt stayed next to Mayrah, kicking and bucking at imaginary foes and suckling every now and then. Sighing to himself, Dooloomai thought of his birth herd, how he had gotten away with staying for so long because he would foal sit. He loved foal sitting, though then, he hadn’t needed to protect the herd. His father had done that, and did it well. It was his job now to protect them, but he hoped to have some time to play with the foals.

He walked over to Mayrah, asking her about the place he had found last night. She didn’t know of it, but was up for the adventure. As they made their way through the bush, a low call caught his attention. He recognized it, and let out his own low rumble, hoping she would hear it. The moon was hidden behind clouds, and when it did come out, was only a sliver. The stars were the only real illumination. He tried to hurry the pace a bit, just a fast walk, hoping no one saw their dark journey to the valley.

As the reached the side of the cliff, he took the lead, looking for the small, narrow path. There! Looking back at Mayrah and Merri, he said,” Be careful, it is narrow with a sheer drop to the side.” From what he had seen, Merri followed where Mayrah went, stepping where she stepped, so his unease of having the foal travel this way eased a bit. “We’ll take it slow.”

Walking ever so slowly down the trail, his muscles began burning, sweat soaking his hide from the fear of falling, the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the excitement of the danger. As they neared the bottom, he whispered, “Careful here, the ground will level out.”

Seeing a dark form ahead, he let out a low greeting nicker, and trotted up to her, Mayrah and Merri close behind. Quivering all over, he shivered from excitement. He had two of his mares with him now.

As he approached her, he noticed the little one at her side, almost indiscernible in the dark gloom. He smiled as he came up to her, brushing noses with her, squealing a little bit.

[Ehetere]

For a while, there was no response, and Uralla wondered whether her senses were failing her as well. She wasn’t sure she was ready to lose that as well. But there, from above, the deep rumble like thunder. The dark roaned stallion was nearby after all.

Recognising that it might take him some time to make the descent into the canyon, especially in the dark, Uralla took the opportunity to look around a little more. The valley was overgrown with underuse, and she didn’t wonder why its only visitors were the smaller bush creatures and nimble footed wallabies. Entering it was treacherous, even in daylight, and most would never even attempt the initial leap of faith to reach the undefined track into its depths. Most wouldn’t approach the cliff edge in the first place.

Having found the strange haven though, her logic dictated that there must be an easier, if hidden way in and out. Perhaps Dooloomai had discovered it in waiting for his mares to arrive back from foaling. She glanced back at the ever attentive colt at her side and sighed before moving off to further investigate the strange unused valley as best she could by meagre starlight.

Shadow watched on with gleaming eyes, but knew better by now than to follow her. For a creature so young, he was perceptive, and perhaps in another lifetime Uralla would have been proud to produce such a son. As it was though, some part of her had died up there in the high mountains, as it had been for the months leading up to Shadow’s birth. She didn’t blame him for this loss exactly, but she associated him with it, and tried her best to ignore him altogether.

Even though he didn’t understand why his mother rejected him so, Shadow had also never met another horse, let alone another with a foal, and couldn’t know how she was supposed to act. Instinct told him to stay close to her side, find comfort in her scent and her touch, however his dam’s actions told him different and he would listen to her. He watched her movement, her careful steps, her quiet manner, desperate to learn and to please. Taking her lead, he took to observing this strange new place at the bottom of that perilous climb, with its long grasses and overgrown shrubbery. The candlebarks hung low and sombre over head, and a small stream washed gently over smooth stones. Shadow decided he liked it there, it was peaceful.

Uralla’s ears pricked, hearing the sounds of hoof against stone as Dooloomai approached. Shadow heard it too, and instinctively moved to the protection of his dam’s flank as the noises approached. Uralla could detect more footfalls than that of a single horse, the stallion must have already found the other mares and their foals.

Standing statuesque, blending in with the bush as she was so good, Uralla watched as the familiar dark bulk of the blue roan stallion detached itself from the dark bush and the sky above, followed by the gleaming white coat of the mare Mayrah. She barely noticed the mousey brown foal on her tail. She offered a familiar quiet whicker of welcome, though it lacked the warmth and enthusiasm it once held, like a summer day where the sun had slunk behind a cloud. Shadow watched the arrival of these strange horses, giants to his leggy form, with wide eyed scepticism. His mother had barely spoken two words together with him, nor had they come across other company in their troubles, something Uralla had made sure of. It was if solitude was now her new friend, and it was almost a wonder that she had returned to the herd at all. But despite whatever had been damaged or lacking altogether, she couldn’t ignore the promised safety of the herd, if not for herself than the foal in her care.

Shadow noticed the other colt sooner than Uralla did, intelligent and watchful eyes widening a little further. He would never be as skinny as his mother, his father’s robust frame saw to that, but this other colt was already much bulkier than he was, with a nervous look about him. He eyed the other two horses warily, but showed none of the fear the other colt did, standing bold and steadfast beside his mother, regarding the newcomers with suspicion.

Reluctance was written over both dark forms waiting at the bottom of the canyon, the deep sadness that held Uralla translating to a reserved personality developing in her foal. Neither made moves to go and greet the group, though eventually the bay mare did step forward slowly to greet her stallion some of the bright curiosity dimmed in her dark eyes. She had left the herd a filly, despite her age, and returned a much aged animal.

[byrch]

Dooloomai whickered to the mare. She seemed, different. Her eyes had an emptiness to them that had never been there before. Dooloomai’s face took on a look of concern. The sliver of a moon hid behind some clouds, and the little valley fell into shadow, the only illumination seemed to come from Mayrah, who had come up to greet Uralla, and then went off to start grazing.

Dooloomai stayed by Uralla, relishing that he had most of his herd back. He hoped Ballook would return soon. He would have to make trips back up the cliff face to search and wait for her. At the thought, he was loath to leave his other mares, though they would be safe here.

Merri stayed close to Mother’s side. It took him awhile to notice the other colt by the slender mare. He was almost dark as night, and blended so well into the gloominess of the valley. Merri stood, watching the colt. He was still a little nervous of the stallion, and the other… mother, gave him strange feelings. She seemed cold, indifferent. So unlike Mother, with her warm nuzzles and rumbles. As he watched, he noticed that the other mother was just as cold to the colt as she was to everyone else. She ignored him, yet tolerated her son. This puzzled Merri, but too scared to venture away from Mother, especially when it was this dark and these were strangers. Mother seemed comfortable around them, so they couldn’t be all bad.

Pricking his ears forward, he whinnied to the colt form behind Mother, poking his head out. He watched the three curiously, until he finally dozed off.

Watching the dark foal, Dooloomai was astounded. He was much smaller then Merri, but by far braver. He stood his ground, albeit by his mothers side. He didn’t glimmer in the faded starlight, like Merri or Mayrah, but blended in with the bush, just like his mother. His ribs stuck out, and he looked poorly. Dooloomai’s heart ached when he looked to Uralla, and saw her in a similar state. She looked, older, though she had only been gone about a week. He had noticed a while before she was beginning to descend into a wallow of un-feelings. Dooloomai wanted to raise her spirits, he wanted his joyous filly who had shown him the bush back.

Dooloomai took a couple steps closer to Uralla, stretched his neck out to her, hovering his muzzle just above her withers, asking for permission to groom her. He knew mares with foals could be temperamental, and didn’t want to get a chunk taken out of his hide. He took another step toward her, relieving his neck muscles from their stretch. “Uralla, what is his name?” He gestured to the colt on her other side, who stood staring down the large stallion unblinkingly.

[Ehetere]

The faintest flicker of a black tipped ear acknowledged the stallion’s whicker, and a bob of her head for the white mare. The colt wondered whether he should copy her as well, instead choosing to flare his nostrils, breathing in the musky scent of the full bodied creature he did not yet know was his father, the sweet scent of the pale round bellied mare and the similar yet different scent of her colt. Somehow he knew he must know these, if they were to stay with these horses. His dam had approached none on their long harsh travels, yet she had waited and searched for these few. They must be important.

The enormous blue and black creature stayed by his dam’s side, and Shadow continued to eye him nervously, ears flicking back and forth despite the huge stallion showing no signs of aggression. He peered between the tangle of long legs at the other dark shape at the white mare’s side, and Shadow wondered how a mare so pale might produce a foal as dark as a tannin soaked billabong. He wanted to investigate these newcomers, memorise their scents a little better, and he was torn. He dare not disobey his dam, any other occasion thus far where he had been tempted to wander he had been swiftly returned with sharp nips. Wandering was dangerous. The other foal whinnied, but Shadow remained quiet, ignoring the summons in fear of angering his mother by drawing attention to the group and appearing similarly stoic for it. The other creature dropped a heel and was soon dozing. Shadow too was feeling exhausted from constant trouble, but could not bring himself to drop just yet, the instinct to remain alert already being ground into every fibre of his being.

Uralla offered a few disinterested flicks of the ear while she kept a subconscious sense on Mayrah, far too hyped up from her journeys to relax even in the valley and the safety of a herd. She was not so blind as to miss Dooloomai’s troubled glances and searching looks, and she had to resist the urge to turn her head. Perhaps he would fix the hollow that was sucking the joy from within her. She consented with a quiet huff, reaching out to groom a burr from the stallion’s crest. Her own coat showed the signs of travel from a tangled mane to knotted burrs that at another time she would have taken more care to avoid.

She glanced back at the mousy coloured colt briefly before returning her attentions to the stallion, posture stiffening a little despite her best efforts. “He is Shadow,” she murmured, tone a mixture of undefinable emotions. The name was uncharacteristic of a mare so keenly in tune with the bush, almost lacking the creativity that some truly stupid mares stooped to for their foals. That said, it did suit him in a way that was almost uncanny. He was Shadow.

Feeling the dark stallion’s gaze, Shadow met it unwavering, unsure as yet as to whether this stranger was friend or foe. His mother seemed to accept him as a friend. “Shadow, this is Dooloomai. He is your sire.” Uralla did not even spare a glance this time, continuing to busy herself with the stallion’s thick long mane. Shadow’s eyes widened. Though his dam had never said she was his mother, he had always known it, some inborn sense, an invisible rope tying him to her even if she did not feel the same pull. This horse, his father, was a different experience, and he wondered if such a bond might only be experienced between dam and foal. After all, if this stallion was his father, the little brown foal might be his sibling.

Shadow was not a cowardly colt, nor was he foolish or rude enough to go and butt his sire upon the shoulder, instead choosing to stare silently until hunger got the better of him and he dived under his dam’s flank to nurse, hoping that her distraction might allow him a better meal than he had managed to salvage thus far.

“Where did you come upon this valley?” asked Uralla, fidgeting a little at the feel of the colt sating his thirst. She was tempted to stamp her hoof and end it as she had done before. “It is old here.”

[byrch]

(ooc: this is Corowa's post, I'll be doing mine soon)

The two brumbies stood in a stand of stringybarks, only several miles from the headwaters of Bullock Yard Creek. Both mare and foal were flecked with lather and blowing hard from the long climb down the eastern spur of the Brindle Bull. Ballook looked about nervously, and with an anxious sort of snort, the mare nudged her daughter to her feet. This was a strange place full of strange brumbies, and Ballook was desperate to return to her mate.

She had picked up Dooloomai’s distinctive spoor at the base of the Brindle Bull, and had followed it intermittently for a mile or two. The stallion seemed to be heading east, though Ballook did not know why it was he had come this way. The tracks were clearer where the ground become steeper and the young mare followed them on and on, up through the dense scrub and craggy timber that lined the spur.

Pinjarra stumbled over the loose stones as she clung to her mother’s warm side. The filly was close to exhaustion, and a heavy weariness settled over her small body as she struggled to keep up. Every now and then her mother would urge her on with gentle nickers of encouragement, but Pinjarra could feel her strength fading. The black filly was streaked with sweat, too tired almost to stand when they finally reached the top of that high plateau.

Ballook looked out over the lip of the steep precipice. This was where Dooloomai’s tracks ended. The ground fell away, dropping down into darkness. Where had Dooloomai gone? Ballook searched frantically for a way down into the valley below. The thought of that kind and gentle stallion laying dead somewhere at the foot of this rocky cliff was too terrible to believe.

Two candlebarks grew near the edge of the cliff-top. Where the ground was soft, there was a hoofmark Ballook recognised as belonging to the bay mare Uralla. Her heart thudded in her chest, as she peered over the edge. For there, just below the two brumbies, was a narrow ledge that jutted out from the cliff face. Trusting that she would not fall, Ballook gathered herself and leapt. Jarred by the landing, the mare scrabbled a moment for a foothold on the grassy ledge. She could see that there was a second shelf beneath this one, and satisfied that this was the way down into the valley, Ballook called for Pinjarra to follow.

A couple of hundred yards from the foot of the cliff, they found Dooloomai and the rest of the herd. Ballook greeted the mares and stallion with a throaty neigh, and she led Pinjarra forward to meet her great sire. The filly was frightened by these strange mares, and she stuck close to her mother’s side. Overjoyed, Ballook did not notice Dooloomai’s troubled expression as he looked at the bay mare Uralla and her coal-black foal. She stretched out her soft nose to him and nickered. “This is Pinjarra,” she said, loud enough for the other mares and their foals to hear, “Your daughter.”

[byrch]

(ooc: Dooly's post)

Dooloomai’s gaze shifted from Uralla to her colt, Shadow. A small smile came to him, and he watched his second son stare back at him. As Uralla busied herself with tugging at Dooloomai’s mane, the stallion took a moment’s pause and softly nickered to the colt. Going back to the business of grooming, he watched the dark colt. He blended in well with the night, with but a single twinkle of a star. There was a look to the foal that the large stallions found a bit, unnerving. He seemed, almost not a foal to Dooloomai. Seeing Uralla’s demeanor, he was worried not only for her, but their colt.

Transfixed on his son and grooming Uralla, he almost didn’t hear her question. It had been her and Mayrah, after all, that had installed in him a sense of adventure. “It was just a feeling, I guess.” He said softly. It really had been, a tug of some unknown force that had brought him to the cliff edge and dared him to come down. He agreed with her on it being old here, with no other scent besides the wind and grass, a small family of wallabies and a small creek. He wondered if any other horses knew of it, and ever came. “I hope you will like this little haven.” He whispered to her.

He quietly disengaged from grooming, he lowered his head to graze. The night was coming to an end, and he wasn’t rested at all. The weeks vigil and climb of the cliff had exhausted the stallion, but he needed to wait for the last mare, Ballook. Thinking of her made his heart ache all over again, even if he had most of his herd back. He wanted them all back, safe and sound, then and only then would he be content to rest. His eyelids drooped though, against his best efforts to keep them open and alert.

After fighting what his body knew best, he cocked his back left hoof, and lowered his head, slipping into a light, fidgety sleep.

***

The clattering of hooves woke Merri from his happy dream. Squealing in fright, he lunged up, looking around desperately for Mother. She stood not a pace from him, staring up at the cliff face. Nuzzling into her chest, then moving to her flank, he sated the hunger that came with waking up. He took no notice of what Mother was looking at, or of the others in the valley.

Finishing his breakfast, he looked up again, and then took notice of the spectacle that enthralled his mother. Another pair was making their way down toward the small herd. Another mother, and small one like himself and the other colt. Becoming bored with watching the two, he started pulling on Mother’s mane, trying to tug her head down. When she just ignored him, he turned his attention to the other colt. Whickering at him, he ran a circle around Mother, stopping to see if the other colt was going to play.

A loud, ringing neigh sounded through the valley, along with the thudding of hooves. Squealing yet again, Merri shot for Mayrah, hiding behind her, peaking his head around to see the newcomers.

***

His heart lept for joy. She was back, all his herd was back. He neighed and snorted as Ballook came up to him, a small black filly in tow. He saw how they were both exhausted, drenched in sweat, and wondered how far she had gone to foal.

The filly stayed close to her mothers side, but Dooloomai wasn’t worried about that. He took the couple of steps needed to close the distance between himself and Ballook, exchanging breaths. It seemed like such a long time since she had left. He glanced at Pinjarra. She looked a lot like Shadow, but she seemed, not as strange. Smiling, he nickered to the foal, as he had with the others. Two colts and a filly, his first foals. He thought them all precious, just like his mares.

“I’m glad your safe.” He whickered to her as he started grooming her shoulder.