Secrets of Moonlight

[Valatone]

Althea's ears pricked forward when she heard a nicker, but didn't dare glance beside her. So, she'd come close to another stallion. Her eyes drew down to slits and she felt like spitting, but resisted. The buckskin wasn't dumb enough not to know who he was. This black stallion was the one she had heard the birds sing about, the new king of the Brumby Country.

Her eyes were no longer on the fight, and she finally let her gaze slide to him. "You must be Tingara," she finally grumbled out, her tone low. She wasn't in a terribly good mood.

[Illu]

Brael was almost there when suddenly there was someone else at her side, pressing against her hard and forcing her away. She was about to buck at whoever it was when she recognised the white and brown form. ”Go away!” she squealed, only to have Nevada scream something at her that she didn’t hear. He sounded angry, so she ceased and desisted, allowing Dilali to drag her unceremoniously back to her petrified colt.

--

Garrong saw Nevada coming at him, he was hard to miss, so brilliantly white, it was as though he was channelling any scrap of moonlight there was on that dark night. He was certainly a handsome horse... but not if Garrong was going to have anything to do with it. Whether it was spite or jealously, didn’t matter, glowy pony boy was going down. Side stepping at the last moment was too predictable, so instead he waited until Nevada got close then jumped forwards to crash into his shoulder.

[Tiggs]

A counter attack had been unpredictable, and Nevada stumbled, almost landing on his knees before he righted himself. The pause would have been enough time for the black to get his next wither-hold, and Nevada was beginning to wonder if this fight would even turn in his favour. From the beginning it had been weighted, and the white stallion could feel that weight pushing down on him now. The black colt was more than he appeared, and Nevada knew if he didn't get ahead of him soon, he might lose his mares in the most embarrassing and spectacular way.

[Illu]

This was the sort of fight he liked better; there had been basically no kicking and striking which made for better healing time, but Nevada wasn’t going down easy. He reared and aimed another grab at his wither, using his weight as he came down to bear down into Nevada's side like a hammer in another attempt to knock him down at the same time. Either he'd exhaust his energy trying to worm himself free if the grip hit, or he could fall and just be killed right then. Though, he would have to hurry, Garrong's own stamina was starting to wane.

[tingara]

Tingara sensed the new mare’s agitation but endeavoured to peel his eyes away from Nevada’s beating and answer her.
“I am indeed Tingara and for now I am afraid I cannot talk, I have more pressing matters,” he motioned down towards the skirmishing stallions, an apologetic look on his face. He hoped she could see it through the darkness. Tingara turned back to the fight and it looked as though the two combatants were tiring. He took this as his leave to make his way silently down to get a closer look. Nevada and the mystery assailant would be too busy focussing on each other to notice another in the night.

[Valatone]

Althea nodded and for once, let the stallion go without a bicker. She would watch as well, even though this fight ment nothing at all to her. If one of them was killed, it was nothing more to her than the flies in Summer.

But the mare didn't really plan on going anywhere, nor have anything to do. So Althea stayed on the ridge and watched the ghostly white fighting the shadowy black.

[Tiggs]

As the black crashed into him, Nevada had barely managed to get his feet under him. The force staggered him, and he barely kept himself upright. If he fell now, he was as good as dead. Blood pounded in his ears, he heard nothing but the laboured breathing of himself and his opponent. All the other night sounds were blocked out as he concentrated on diverting all his attention to keeping his legs under him.

The black's teeth had caught a hold of his withers again but Nevada couldn't find the energy to shake him off. He just had to keep standing, he couldn't risk falling, the black would surely trample him to death.

[Illu]

Garrong was sucking air in through his nostrils with desperation, still trying to force Nevada over with the last of his strength, lifting up his forelegs and striking at Nevada’s own white ones as he pushed. He was starting to realise the white was not going to fall over, but despite starting to feel like lead he continued, jaw aching torturingly with the grip until at last, with a great sobbing breath, he grip finally slipped in his exhaustion.

[Tiggs]

Nevada's leg were shaking uncontrollably now. He could barely keep standing. Almost ready to fall, it was then that the black slipped, his grip gone. A flash of hope running through him, Nevada tried to move off, ready to try one last strike. But in the process of putting his weight on his forelegs, the twinge he had felt turned into a roaring pain like fire in his joint. Squealing, Nevada limped out of range.

He turned, facing the opponent. Chest heaving, his lungs like great bellows, he stood as strongly as his leg allowed. He was beaten, and if the black had enough strength left in him, Nevada would be killed. Defiantly, he stared at the black, still barely able to make him out in the darkness. Would he finish the job now, or would he simply take his prize and go?

It stung him deeply, to lose his mares. The mares he had worked so hard to find, collect and keep. If only he could have taken them somewhere safe and hidden away with them. If only he was a better fighter, to protect them. There was no dignity in this, beaten by a younger stallion, barely fully grown. His only salvation was that the black had the darkness on his side, and the initial surprise attack.

The grey stallion bared his teeth, nostrils flared as he drew in deep breaths. What now?

[Illu]

Garrong wanted to run at him, to strike him down, to end this now, but he had no strength left either. The other stallion was standing tall, dignified still, infuriatingly. What was the point of winning if you couldn’t even do it properly? He tried to run at him, to leap, to strike, but his tired body could only do so much and he almost stumbled, a move hopefully Nevada didn’t see. Despite being smothered in sweat and breathing raggedly he tried to make a show of being unperturbed as he tried to run Nevada off.

--

Brael was just standing in shock horror. If it was usual of horses to hand with their mouths open, hers would be at the ground. He lost? The little bastard lost Coming to her senses, she shook her head as though to clear it. Wait, no of course not, this was totally some sort of master plan of his, right? Clever Nevada, lulling the brute into a false sense of security to lure him into his trap like that.