Snowstorm Soliloquy

[Tiggs]

OOC: He's looking for Myrrina, but anyone is welcome to join in if they can spot him.

The early-morning frost didn't quite give him the same camouflage as a full blanket of snow, but his pale coat blended well enough with the icy foliage that surrounded Yarraman's valley. Tingara's herd slumbered upwind, and Nevada felt like a trespassing colt again. His heart picked up a notch, and his warm breath came faster, steaming in the frigid air. For lack of a more articulate word, he was spying. By now, each one of Tingara's herd was a familiar sight. He might not know them all, but the majority he recognised and half he could distinguish by scent alone.

But it was one mare he was after in particular. One that eluded him. A pale mare, graceful and more beautiful than he though he could ever have imagined. He was disheartened that he could not see her from his hiding place, but he daren't sneak closer for fear of discovery. Tingara would be more than angry at his presence here. Nevada had a fair coup of mares hidden away up on Paddy's Rush, but there was never enough. He had to have this one, and it was fool's luck that she happened to belong to Tingara.

Nevada was fairly sure he would not win a fight with the King, so his only option was to woo her away secretly. The craven plot worried at his ego - it felt wrong to be playing a colt's trick - but there was no other way. The pale mare was meant for him, he could feel it in his very bones. He had waited until the turn of the season to come here, waiting out the rest of the winter with his own mares to safeguard them. Now the breeding season was over, he could put his mind to this mysterious mare whom he'd seen up at the lake before the men came. But he couldn't see her, but he knew she must be here somewhere. Tingara would not let a divine mare like her out of his sight if he could help it.

Where was she? That delicate dancer. The beautiful ballerina. His snowstorm soliloquy.

[{ Opal }]

She was buried in the depths of Yarraman's surrounding forest. Through the tangled branches you could see her, a black veil that lurked beneath the shadows of undergrowth. Her black legs were folded beside her sleek bodice, her head hanging heavily as she drowsed. Burilda's dark eyes fluttered open, as a jay's squawk brought her to consciousness. Freshened with sleep, the black mare wondered why the bird should call. She looked up, catching sight of it's blue feathers as it continued to screech. Something must be wrong. Burilda slowly uncurled her limbs, stretching the kinks out of them. Clearly she wasn't worried, even as the jay grew more persistent. Then he stopped, turning his head to Burilda. She nodded to him, and he flew away. Hmm... Another brumby, perhaps? Near Tingara's land? Interesting. No, she did not belong to Tingara, but she knew who he was, and where she was. Burilda shook her head, sending her long mane flying in all directions. Then she started forward, her gaze moving swiftly across her surroundings. She had to be close. Suddenly a soft, muffled scent reached her nostrils. Burilda moved steadily toward it, biding her time as she weaved through the trees. I wonder what brumby would cross into this territory? Burilda paused slightly, sorting through the scent. And a stallion, too.

[Corowa]

The brumby mare stirred as leathery leaves rustled in the wind, and the far-off sounds of kurrawongs broke the silence of the bush. Sweating with fear, Myrrina melted back into the thick timber belt. Hidden amidst the fringe of snowgums at the mouth of the valley, the pale grey stallion faded into the snow. There seemed something sinister about the strange stallion and Myrrina shook all over. A shy brown wallaby hopped past, and the mare shied sharply to the side, skin prickling as she moved further into the shelter of the eucalypts. There was no angry stallion’s roar, for windward from the herd, it seemed only Myrrina had smelt him. Slowly, slowly the mare moved forwards, until she stood out clearly against the snow.

Half-afraid, the mare trotted towards the farthest end of the valley, where the strange stallion watched, and waited, for what Myrrina did not know. With a puzzled expression in her eyes, Myrrina timidly extended her nose and gave the softest of whinnies. Fearful that her mate would be awoken, the mare threaded her way through the thick scrub, until she stood before the stallion himself. The sharp call of a lyrebird, caused her to tremble violently, and the mare felt the pounding of her heart, the restless thrum of blood in her veins. “Greetings, O stallion,” she said finally, proud head raised, thoughts filled with the ghost of a black stallion, to whom her winter tryst had been woven. “Why do you come here to this place? Moving through the trees as if the wind itself?”

Ears flickering, the wise mare wondered whether such a stallion sought a filly, a daughter of her mate. For fillies left their sire’s herd, were captured by young stallions, and yet this seemed different. For there were no fillies to be taken, and transfixed with terror the mare backed out from the low snowgums, to where the snow fell in a thin curtain.

OOC: i did this post before I realised that opal had posted, and since i'm too lazy to fix it, if anything is out of order just ignore it.

[Tiggs]

Nothing registered until he was jerked out of his daze by a shuffle of hooves on crisp grass. The grey stallion flinched, dark eyes fixing on a shadow not too far away. At first he thought it was Tingara, but how could that be? He double checked the herd, and yes, the King still stood beside them.

Then he thought the worst. Was it Garrong? Was his arch nemesis here to fight him again? At least Nevada had left his mares somewhere safe, Garrong was not taking Dilali and Baramay again, nor would he lay eyes on Jannali. About ready to launch, Nevada realised the figure was in fact too slender to be Garrong, and the scent that finally reached him was that of a mare. He couldn't recall any dark mares in the Kings herd, so she must be passing through.

He glanced between the dark mare and the herd out in the valley. An extra mare for his herd would not go amiss, but could he take this mare to his herd and not be constantly reminded of Garrong? What of when there were black foals? Even of his own blood, he didn't think he could stand that. This close to Tingara's herd, it was likely she was looking for the King himself.

The grey stallion watched the dark mare out of one eye, keeping a keen watch on Tingara. It was a pity he did not have three eyes, else he might have seen the pale mare approaching, Already tightly spring, Nevada bit back a squeal as the mare entered his line of sight, emerging from his blind spot with hardly a warning. She seemed to be shivering, and he wondered how she could feel the cold through her coat. Was she wet? Ill? He was worried at that, but she eventually steadied herself, and he realised that meeting a strange stallion in safe haven must have been cause for alarm.

Forgetting the black mare for now, he was transfixed by the mare. He pelt was a mottled grey and white, with her face smothered in a white patch. He nickered to her, finding his feet and stepping back now deeper into the cover in case Tingara should wake. "oddly enough, I came seeking you. I saw you dance in the snow this winter, and I had never seen anything so beautiful."

He realised she was looking at him in fear, and he saddled his ears in apology. "I do not mean to frighten you. My name is Nevada. I mean you no harm." He said softly, all the while glancing past her to check on Tingara.

[{ Opal }]

OOC: It's OK. ^^

Burilda carefully worked her way through the thicket, following the stallion's scent which grew steadily stronger. She kept her hooves to the soft ground, which was moistened by the melting snow. By keeping herself near-silent, Burilda was only pleasing herself; there was no reason to cause surprise to the stranger, but Burilda always preferred the quiet to anything else.

So on she went, slowing slightly as she realized that another brumby was eminent. Doubts ran through her head, but most ceased as Burilda realized that the newcomer was only a mare. Still she narrowed her eyes, as she stepped through the final barrier: a wall of half-dead undergrowth.

Burilda was suddenly presented with two brumbies, one grey stallion and one frightful mare. She cast a calming glance at the poor mare, and a soothing voice came forth. "You mustn't worry; I'm sure this stallion would not let harm come to you. And nor will I." Burilda's words were smooth and melodic as they flowed from her mouth, intending to help the mare. Her crystal-clear eyes cast a glance at the stallion, and her knowing gaze caught the slightest hint of mistrust. "I mean no harm." Burilda said, slightly puzzled. What had she done? Shaking it out of her mind, she redirected her attention to both brumbies.

[Corowa]

“Then you should know he is my mate,” Myrrina said. “It was for him I danced. I will run with no other.” Half fascinated, and half afraid of the pale grey stallion, the mare did not move far from the forest of snowgums. Threading through the snowgums and ferns touched with snow, a coal black mare emerged from the scrubby snowgums. One forefoot raised, ears pricked, Myrrina listened and waited, for the cry that did not come. And who was this strange black mare? Myrrina knew most of the horses who ran Quambat Flats and the Cascades, yet this coal black mare had run with no herd.

With an angry snort, Myrrina laid her ears back and pranced towards the mare. “He is not my mate and still he seeks me,” she said. “I am not so foolish as to know how stallions take mares they cannot have.” Quivering with excitement, she trotted out into the cloud of swirling snow, barely visible, hidden by the driving white flakes. The mare had a feeling that bad weather was coming. Now it was time to race the winds, to vanish into the whirling snowstorm and hide from the stallion and foolish black mare.

[Tiggs]

The glance he gave the black mare as she tried quite earnestly to defend his intentions was almost thankful. Almost. He still couldn't quite shake that stigma he had of black horses. Tingara, Garrong, he had a perfectly legitimate reason to want to run far away from her. He tried quite commendably not to flick his ears back at her, though it was easier to distract himself with the pale mottled mare. He almost missed her words, distracted as he was by that odd roaning and patching.

"I know exactly what Tingara is to you. He's your King. Look out there. Look at all of them. How many of them are here because they want to be in the King's herd? And how many are here because they maintain they're an individual, here out of a misplaced loyalty to their King but are in fact only interested in his title? None of them will dance in the snow like you. I doubt any of them even enjoy the winter. The cold. The whiteness. The serenity. None of them are like you." It was an uncomfortable thing to reveal something below the outer shell of himself. He cast a sideways glance at the black mare, wondering if anything he said to the pale mare had any meaning to her out of context.

And then the grey as almost gone again. He risked a nicker to her, a soft plea. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was gone, and then the flurry cleared for a moment and he saw her there, the object of his desire. "Wait; not yet. I'm quite aware that what I'm doing is... Well..." He had the grace to look almost embarrassed. "If you were just one of them, I might fight the King for you. It would mean something to you." He paused, glancing through the falling flurries beyond the snowgums to the resting shadows of Tingara's herd. Nevada huffed. "But it wouldn't, would it? Stay here to dance for your King," He took a step back, tossing his head to clear his forelock from his face. "Or come with me, and we'll dance together." It was almost like convincing Brael that she wanted to do something, only here he truly meant every word.

[{ Opal }]

The mare's harsh words had no affect on Burilda. The only thing obvious from the exchange was that she had hardly a temper; no sharpness had hold on her voice when she whispered, "Go then, and live without fear of such stallions." Burilda watched as the mare slipped back into the snowgums, leaving no sign of her presence but for the light tracks whenever snow stood in her way.

Burilda than glanced at the grey stallion, her eyes taking on a bright look. Now here was a puzzle for her to solve! The half-hearted looks and the jumpy attitude told it all; how silly he was to think no-one would notice. Burilda laughed softly; it was a breezy laugh, that floated away on the wind to wherever it might take it. But she kept her words and conclusions to herself, for she realized that the stallion had important matters to deal with.

Burilda resigned herself to an innocent silence, hoping that her presence wouldn't disrupt anything. The stallion's soulful words seeped into her heart and mind, but Burilda would speak of it to no-one, nor let it alter anything in herself. Instead of focusing on the heart-felt scene, Burilda focused on the wilderness. She took in steady breaths of the crisp air, letting it refresh her mind. Then she turned her head, looking for the jay she had recently become acquainted with. When no sign of it crossed her trail of sight, Burilda just stood there. Tranquility flowed through her being; she was content to stay here for as long as needed.

[Corowa]

Myrrina was trembling. Lost in the white whirling snow, the mare was a ghost, alone in the vast whiteness of the blizzard. Myrrina no longer felt anxious, only deeply sad. This grey stallion would be exciting to run with, to race swift and sure over the springy snowgrass. Yet Myrrina knew that the only stallion she wanted to run with was Tingara. With a gentle neigh, the mare flitted through the silver-grey leaves of the snowgums, a wraith half-seen and half-heard in the snow. Then the mare was once more near the stallion, skin prickling when she pressed close to him, here where the spreading snowgums broke the force of those buffeting winds. “You must find a mate of your own. A mare who will dance for you alone, and no other.” Blowing through her nostrils, the mare touched his nose with her own, unable to bear her own feelings, blood throbbing so that she could barely contain her own longing. In the lull of the storm, a plover’s sad song rang out, and it spoke of sorrow and loss. Shivering, Myrrina withdrew from the stallion, neighing a farewell to both him and the mare. Go swiftly, the call said, and when the mare looked back over her shoulder, stallion and mare had vanished into the cloud of snow.

[Tiggs]

He stood, watching, shivering and longing to be there in the whirling snow with her. But he couldn't leave the shelter of the snow gums and risk discovery by the King. Mind and heart warred, but mind held out. And then his heart got its reward. She was suddenly thee beside him, so close, her flank on his. His nostrils quivered in excitement as her pink muzzle met his dark velvet nose. His heart beat wildly in his chest, as if thrashing to escape a man's lasso.

For that wild moment, he was elated, sure she was about to come with him. And then her words hit him, and she was gone, melting into the snow for good. The grey stallion was stunned. He was so sure he has won her, only to be rejected. Had his offer not been enough? Was she truly happy to just dance for her black King?

He repressed an enraged squeal, the sound coming muted and strangled through his nostrils. He turned sharply, thundering through the slim tree trunks and past the long-maned black mare. He was defeated, but not beaten. He would win her heart. The King could not rein in that spirit of the snow that stormed in her heart. She had an affinity for the winter, and Nevada would show her that she did need a partner who would dance with her.

When he reached the far rise that overlooked the valley, he stood and let the eddies of wind carry the snow around him and calmed at the feel of the icy flakes melting on his heaving flanks. Longer-than-average pure white mane and tail whipped around him like extensions of the snowstorm itself. It was time that Nevada let man nor stallion stand in the way of what he wanted. He would win the snow mare, and his herd would have all of the most beautiful mares in the High Country.

The grey stallion lifted his noble face to the wind, and called to the mare at the bottom of the valley. The wind would steal most of the volume before it reached her, and only his whisper met the ears of those who listened. "We will dance together." He promised before he set off across the snow-blanketed ground toward where he kept the rest of his herd safe.

Black horses haunted his mind and in his world of whiteness, they loomed like great shadows, his only obstacles. First Tingara, that vision on him in the snow while his most mysterious mare danced and wheeled around him, barely discernible from the paleness of the landscape. Next came Garrong, a raging brute, anger in his eyes. Imagined scenes came to him of his nemesis with Dilali and Baramay, torturing their soft souls, hardening and blackening them with his poisonous touch. The two black foals, stock like their father danced close by, mocking him.

And then there was that long-maned mare. The memory bought suspicion with it, but also a second chance to see her past that initial distrust. Her sweet face under that long forelock, dark eyes watching him while he fought to charm the innocent grey mare. Th rest of her, well formed as a mare should be. He slowed for a moment, wondering if he should go back for her. Would she come with him after his coldness toward her? Did he want to bring her to his herd where black horse had brought only pain and suffering?

The snow storm eased, and Nevada shook his head. He was too close to Tingara's herd to turn back without the storm as a cover. If he saw her again, he might try and look beyond her colour to what she really was. Nevada prided himself of the collection of mares he had gathered - each valuable. With the exception of the two Moonfillies, each mare brought a different colour to his herd. He had yet to gather a black, but it was that long mane and tail of hers that would set her apart from the rest. He could imagine how the ebony hair would flow as she ran. She would be a mirror to him, a perfect black refection right down to the long mane.

The idea was starting to appeal to him but before he worked on that prejudice he had to overcome, he must win the grey mare without alerting his intentions to Tingara. It would be difficult, but with this new resolve to let nothing stand in his way, the snowstorm dancer was as good as his.