Dappled Silver... (Open)

[Ehetere]

Muyan paced her way silently through the rough country. After the brumby drive; with all of those men swarming everywhere, Muyan had decided to lay low and keep out of sight for a while. The men hadn't even bothered with the Brindle Bull; it was too rough for their horses and Muyan knew all of the good hiding places on it.

The setting sun reflected brilliantly of her silver dappled coat and Muyan swished her partially silver tail at a stray fly. The bush was silent and eerie; very different from the silence that is filled with bird calls and the swish of branches in the wind. No, this silence was oppressive and foreboding, and Muyan didn't like it. Her pretty hide prickled with nervousness and she was sure that someone was watching from the bushes. Unnerved and twitchy, Muyan set off again, in the direction of some thick scrub where she hoped to hide herself from the invisible shapes she felt looming out at her from every corner.

[tingara]

Flanks ever darkened by sweat, Tingara paced along the edge of the Brindle Bull. His eyes darted wildly, his ears swivelled listening for the slightest sounds and more than anything the stallion quivered as he moved. There were signs of rope burn around his neck and hocks, the men had caught him and left their marks. He could still feel the burning, biting of the snakelike ropes and still hear the men’s harsh voices. Loose rocks underneath his feet dislodged and the black horse shied from them, almost losing his footing. He’d already fallen several times in his attempt to put as much distance between himself and the pen he’d spent the last two days.

Soon the black stallion could no longer even manage a trot. The red film of exhaustion had set in over his eyes and his muscles were becoming so sore every step was painful. Not willing to collapse in a heap just yet, Tingara slowed to a limping walk. He lifted his head to the wind attempting to catch any scents that may have been around. There were some on the breeze but whether they were horse, dingo, other animal or human he couldn’t tell, the smell of his own sweat and blood overpowered all other scents.

Again Tingara began to grow edgy; something was out there amongst the rocky Bull. Maybe it was part of his herd? Risking putting himself at the mercy of another stallion but too weary to care he called out forlornly. It rang through the small canyons and outcrops, echoing the stallion’s hopelessness back to his ears. He’d lost his entire herd in the confusion and already he missed them. Sweet Crayola, firey Fira, stubborn Binda, kind Valatone and beautiful, mysterious Myrrina, his mate.

Sniffing at the ground for signs of them Tingara caught sight of strange prints, a mare’s prints. He knickered softly to her, wherever she was. She must be hidden in the surrounding scrub, that much the stallion was sure of. Having stopped for only a moment, Tingara found that his muscles protested convincingly when he tried to move again. Futilely he attempted to resist their pleas for rest and in the end collapsed to the ground. Whinnying feebly he tried fruitlessly to stand again but his legs folded every time. Giving up, the once-great king fell to his side breathing heavily and snorting dust up from the ground.

OoC: Bleh, hope that's ok. I've been neglecting horses lately. *fails*

[Ehetere]

OOC: It's fine, so long as I have something to reply to! Poor Tingara...

All of a sudden the unnerving silence was broken by a bumping and stumbling noise of a horse crashing up the slope below her. Muyan buried herself deeper into the scrub to watch out for whatever was coming. The wind blew in her direction, bringing the mixed scents of tame and wild horse, and then a handsome black stallion came panting up the hill, covered in rope burns, sweat and blood. Muyan restlessly shifted her weight from one foot to another, wondering whether she should leave quietly now before she was noticed or whether she should stay and find out the news of the brumby run, where this horse had surely come from.

Muyan was still considering her options when the stallion came close enough to be recognized. Although Muyan had never seen the King herself before, there was no doubt of whom this stallion was. However, now, unlike the stories that Muyan had heard passed on the wind of the King's greatness and strength, he looked beaten and utterly spent, his muscles protesting at every movement. He cried out forlornly for things lost; Muyan guessed that he was missing his mares. Muyan thought that it perfectly summed up the essence of a brumby drive; all it brought was loss and sadness.

The King snuffled around curiously at the ground, and Muyan realized that she had been walking on very imprintable dirt in her haste to escape from the oppressive silence. Tensing; preparing to run, Muyan heard the tired black stallion knicker; he meant her no harm, and in his exhausted state, he would be no threat. The King's legs trembled, before collapsing to the ground; the fatigue finally overtaking him. Dust billowed up; covering his coat and mingling with the sweat and heat.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Muyan stepped delicately out from her hiding spot, taking care this time to place her hooves where they wouldn't leave a track. She padded softly over to where the stallion lay; and lowered her neck to snuffle around his muzzle; just to be sure that he really was alive. "So you have escaped the brumby run, O King of the High Country, but what of the other brumbies? What of your herd?" murmured Muyan, stepping back to a more respectful distance for a mare of unknown origin to this stallion; the King. She checked around her, flicking her ears back and forth, listening for the sound of approaching horses; the desperate call of the King may have prompted another stallion to come and try and steal the King's crown while he was in this weakened state. But luckily, there seemed not to be a single horse anywhere; they were all probably still wary to come out after the brumby run. It gave Muyan the queerest impression that she and the King were the only two horses left in the whole of the High Country, although of course this was not the case.

[tingara]

At the sound of the mare’s voice Tingara decided it was time he got up, no matter how painful it may be. The mare’s voice was the sweetest thing he’d heard in what seemed like and age and he would be damned if she the two of them were to converse while he was laying meekly on the dusty ground. With several groans and snorts of pain the black stallion scrambled to his feet. The lift had been clumsy with the horse’s stiff limbs and the cloud of dust he’d kicked up soon settled, some of it sticking to and fading his black coat.

“Yes I did escape the men but the cost was great. My herd escaped but I and my son were captured. I lost everyone,” Tingara replied sadly, lowering his head and wrinkling his nose in grief at the thought that he may never see the mares he held so dear or his children again. The other brumbies he could not answer for, he had not stopped long enough to hear of whom the gang-gangs twittered about or whom the mopokes mourned for.

The stallion eventually looked up again and fully took in the mare that stood before him. Her coat was such an odd but beautiful colour and there was an ethereal beauty there he could not explain. “It is nice to see a friendly face. It feels like years since I last saw one,” Tingara smiled weakly at her, lifting his head up further. He held it as high as the pain in his muscles would allow, trying to look like he had only a few weeks ago; proud, carefree and strong.

“My name is Tingara, may I ask what is yours?” he enquired, inching closer. He had longed for the company of another horse who was not overwhelmed with fear for the many weeks he’d been in captivity. The stallion stretched out his muzzle to the mare in proper greeting.

[Ehetere]

The black stallion struggled to his feet; pain written across his face, and Muyan knew the effort that it took for him to even get off the ground. “Yes I did escape the men but the cost was great. My herd escaped but I and my son were captured. I lost everyone,” he said hanging his head. Muyan couldn't remember the last time she had seen a horse so depressed and dejected. It was hard to believe that this was indeed the King of the high country. “My name is Tingara, may I ask what is yours?” he asked; extending his muzzle to her in greeting. "I am Muyan, for the Silver Wattle," Muyan replied, but her mind was now whirring in directions that it had never entered before. She was aging now; and still had never born a foal. Would it not be fit for one as wise as she to go with this black stallion who was King? His current mares would not be impressed of course; but then again, what if he could not find them all and they had been stolen by another stallion? "How long do you think it will take to find the rest of your herd again?" asked Muyan, "And where would they be found? Perhaps after you have grgained some of your strength and are rested we could go and search for them together?"

[tingara]

Muyan... Tingara let his mind become accustomed to the name. “Muyan,” he repeated softly, “your name is indeed as beautiful as you are.” He let himself drink in her soft scent but abruptly stopped. He had lost everyone else, all his mares and all his children. He, the King, had been captured, what was he thinking trying to woo another mare? Self-doubt invaded the stallion’s senses and he looked away ashamed. But then again Muyan could be his fresh start, if she was willing to follow him of course.

Her question was a fair one and one that Tingara was unsure whether he could answer. “That I cannot be sure of. Betting of the fact that they’re scattered all over the High Country it could take many days, even weeks to find them all. And that is if they weren’t captured in the end,” he answered, sighing and shaking his head. He feared that the two he longed for most may be lost. Kind, sweet and pregnant Crayola and Myrrina, his mate, the one he danced with like no other.

Muyan’s words heartened him greatly. Maybe she was willing to follow him. “I would very much like to find them with you by my side,” he nickered softly, risking a soft nibble on her beautifully coloured withers. Her idea of rest was greatly welcomed by Tingara, that was what he needed now. His herd mates had been without him for a few weeks already, they could wait a day or two longer. “I’m sure they will welcome a new face, especially one as kind as yours,” he whinnied happily. In an instant his spirits had lifted and he was almost back to his usual self.

[Ehetere]

Muyan flushed with pride as he called her beautiful. She felt like a silly little filly again, to be impressed by such words, since she had heard them often enough. But the way that Tingara had spoken them; it was so sincere and heartfelt that perhaps he really meant it. And the though of wandering for days around the high country with him was exciting because it would be different from routine and she would meet so many more horses. She could even help him track the mares, thereby showing her wisdom and worth. And perhaps the other mares would accept her, even if she was younger than they. There was only one way to find out. Besides, her lack of a herd was beginning to become rather pathetic as opposed to a show of will and mystery. The black stallion nibbled on her withers, and although Muyan jumped a little, it felt quite nice since she could never reach there to scratch herself. "I will come with you and help you gather your herd once more," nickered Muyan and looked up to see that he was happy again, there was hope in his eyes and no longer did a dejected air surround him. So she led off into the scrub in the direction of a well hidden hollow that a little spring bubbled up in and held sweet water and there was delicious grass. There they could stay safe from harm and prying eyes until Tingara was well rested and healed enough to search for the rest of his mares.