Post by Tiggs on Aug 9, 2008 15:50:15 GMT
OOC: Under the assumption Brael hasn't deserted Nevvy before the wrap up of that last thread! Cascade Hut is in the same valley as Cascade Creek, it leads on from Yarraman's Valley and joins to the Brolga's country, perfect midway for Nev and Jannali to meet, Yaruka! ^_^ Also gives some scenery for Allie if she happens to come along =)
Light snowfall was a god-send. Thowra's ghost must be smiling on him this day. Why couldn't He have shown some sympathy last night? Nevada sighed in bliss as the cool flakes soothed his aching back and flanks. His withers were in tatters, the skin torn and ragged. Luckily Taworri had cleaned him up else it would take a lot more than snow to sooth an infected wound.
The fight of the previous night seemed like a dream in this steadily whitening world. The valley was quiet here, the grass cropped short from the cattle's summer grazing. The great beasts were gone now, their men taking them to lower ground before winter really set in. The great lawn of grass before the bruised stallion was ever so slowly turning from yellow-green to pristine white.
Nevada had been leading his mares away from the Brolga's country, as he was sure the Black would be lurking nearby, waiting for the strength to come back and finish him off before Nevada had the chance to recover. Even Aleo's beating hadn't been so brutal, but Nevada supposed he had not been trying to engage in that particular fight, rather lead the King away from his precious Mica.
The grey stallion sighed, breath steaming in the cold air. The day was past its zenith, but Nevada was too tired to travel any longer. Leaving Brael, Taworri and Yarran in the sparse tree cover, Nevada had ventured out onto the basin of the river valley before the man's hut to investigate the scene. He was sure there were no brumbies nearby, and if the men were truly gone as it appeared, this place might be the safest place in the High Country to rest. Even in the dead of winter, the men's huts were avoided by brumbies.
Taking a deep breath, Nevada flinched at the tug of bruised skin over his rib cage. There was no scent of horse or man, no smoke coming from the one protruding nostril of the hut. Its windows were covered, blocked up to ride out the winter. No one home. With relief, Nevada looked over his shoulder. The wind was coming from the south, so that Black would not be able to creep up on him, but the downside of that was Tingara could come from the North and Nevada would not see him until he was nearby.
The black King seemed sincere enough last night that he was not about to challenge him when Nevada was in such a state, though Nevada was suspicious. Dilali would tell him to stop worrying, and Baramay would offer that sweet smile that made his spirits lift. But they were gone, taken by the Black who had attacked in the dead of night. Brael, the colt Yarran and Taworri were all he was left with, a mystery in itself. Why had the Black left the moonfillies? A message? Would he come back to fight him again and take the rest of his herd while he lay beaten and possibly dead at the Black's hooves?
Nevada snorted, gingerly walking over to the river with a heavy limp, glad it separated him from the hut. A man would be hard pressed to get over it before Nevada could send his moonfillies away. He would never outrun a man on a shod horse in this condition, but at least his moonfillies would not be taken by man. If it came to that, he'd send them up the valley to Tingara. He'd rather see them in the possession of the King than brutal men.
Lowering his head to the ground, he sucked up a few mouthfuls of freezing water. Winter was not old enough this season to have frozen it yet, so it still ran clear and free of ice. Flakes of snow hissed and melted on the river's surface, a serene melody of sound in the almost mute valley. The snow building on the ground smothered a lot of the ambient sound that would usually be the soundtrack of the High Country. Only the sound of the snow itself reached the young grey stallion's ears.
His thirst quenched, he took the liberty of Brael's absence to have a little peace. Nosing away the wet smattering of snow, he plucked up some short blades of grass and chewed them thoughtfully. This place would do for now, until it was inevitably compromised. After a few days, Nevada thought his foreleg might have healed enough for him to cover some ground and take his moonfillies higher into the country, to find somewhere safe until he was healthy again. Then he would find the Black and beat him. Dilali and Baramay would not see the Spring at the Black's side. Before the snow was gone he would have them back.
Looking up the valley, his thoughts on his stolen mares, he almost didn't see a shape moving far up the valley to the North. Standing rigid, he was instantly relived to see the shape wasn't black. His ears and eyes riveted, he watched the shape come as the snow fell steadily around him and he was glad for the cover it provided. Whoever was coming would find it difficult to make him out in the snowfall, if they even knew he was there at all.
Light snowfall was a god-send. Thowra's ghost must be smiling on him this day. Why couldn't He have shown some sympathy last night? Nevada sighed in bliss as the cool flakes soothed his aching back and flanks. His withers were in tatters, the skin torn and ragged. Luckily Taworri had cleaned him up else it would take a lot more than snow to sooth an infected wound.
The fight of the previous night seemed like a dream in this steadily whitening world. The valley was quiet here, the grass cropped short from the cattle's summer grazing. The great beasts were gone now, their men taking them to lower ground before winter really set in. The great lawn of grass before the bruised stallion was ever so slowly turning from yellow-green to pristine white.
Nevada had been leading his mares away from the Brolga's country, as he was sure the Black would be lurking nearby, waiting for the strength to come back and finish him off before Nevada had the chance to recover. Even Aleo's beating hadn't been so brutal, but Nevada supposed he had not been trying to engage in that particular fight, rather lead the King away from his precious Mica.
The grey stallion sighed, breath steaming in the cold air. The day was past its zenith, but Nevada was too tired to travel any longer. Leaving Brael, Taworri and Yarran in the sparse tree cover, Nevada had ventured out onto the basin of the river valley before the man's hut to investigate the scene. He was sure there were no brumbies nearby, and if the men were truly gone as it appeared, this place might be the safest place in the High Country to rest. Even in the dead of winter, the men's huts were avoided by brumbies.
Taking a deep breath, Nevada flinched at the tug of bruised skin over his rib cage. There was no scent of horse or man, no smoke coming from the one protruding nostril of the hut. Its windows were covered, blocked up to ride out the winter. No one home. With relief, Nevada looked over his shoulder. The wind was coming from the south, so that Black would not be able to creep up on him, but the downside of that was Tingara could come from the North and Nevada would not see him until he was nearby.
The black King seemed sincere enough last night that he was not about to challenge him when Nevada was in such a state, though Nevada was suspicious. Dilali would tell him to stop worrying, and Baramay would offer that sweet smile that made his spirits lift. But they were gone, taken by the Black who had attacked in the dead of night. Brael, the colt Yarran and Taworri were all he was left with, a mystery in itself. Why had the Black left the moonfillies? A message? Would he come back to fight him again and take the rest of his herd while he lay beaten and possibly dead at the Black's hooves?
Nevada snorted, gingerly walking over to the river with a heavy limp, glad it separated him from the hut. A man would be hard pressed to get over it before Nevada could send his moonfillies away. He would never outrun a man on a shod horse in this condition, but at least his moonfillies would not be taken by man. If it came to that, he'd send them up the valley to Tingara. He'd rather see them in the possession of the King than brutal men.
Lowering his head to the ground, he sucked up a few mouthfuls of freezing water. Winter was not old enough this season to have frozen it yet, so it still ran clear and free of ice. Flakes of snow hissed and melted on the river's surface, a serene melody of sound in the almost mute valley. The snow building on the ground smothered a lot of the ambient sound that would usually be the soundtrack of the High Country. Only the sound of the snow itself reached the young grey stallion's ears.
His thirst quenched, he took the liberty of Brael's absence to have a little peace. Nosing away the wet smattering of snow, he plucked up some short blades of grass and chewed them thoughtfully. This place would do for now, until it was inevitably compromised. After a few days, Nevada thought his foreleg might have healed enough for him to cover some ground and take his moonfillies higher into the country, to find somewhere safe until he was healthy again. Then he would find the Black and beat him. Dilali and Baramay would not see the Spring at the Black's side. Before the snow was gone he would have them back.
Looking up the valley, his thoughts on his stolen mares, he almost didn't see a shape moving far up the valley to the North. Standing rigid, he was instantly relived to see the shape wasn't black. His ears and eyes riveted, he watched the shape come as the snow fell steadily around him and he was glad for the cover it provided. Whoever was coming would find it difficult to make him out in the snowfall, if they even knew he was there at all.
