The Captured

[Tiggs]

Jason was in a spectacular mood. He and some of the other men had just returned from selling the first batch of brumbies and they had sold well. The ones they had taken that had not sold had been tethered in some shade on the opposite side of the hut to the pens, their hocks hobbled. One filly in particular had disappointed Jason. A sweet little chestnut, with one white sock and a symmetrical star on her forehead. She looked like good stock, but the first buyers had chosen not to take her because of her attitude.

Oh she was gentle enough, barely reacting as the men led her about but there in lied the problem, she was too docile. She seemed miserable, always hanging her head with no sparkle in her eyes. Brumbies were usually fiery beast, but this one was a disappointment. Jason hoped she would sell in the low country to someone who liked her looks without paying attention to her attitude.

The man patted the filly’s shoulder, and she barely flinched. Pity, he might have kept her for his own stock if she had spirit. Spotting another man, Jason jogged over and hailed him, “Hey Joe, grab Harry and Bruce will you? I want to get that seizer out along with the black. The black might do for a new stock horse, and the Doc should check the seizer out; John says the kindest thing would be to shoot the poor brute, he definitely won’t sell.” Joe nodded and headed off while Jason fetched his ropes.

The first stallion pen had half a dozen in, and Jason had his eye on the young black chewing on the fence. He looked to be sturdy, and his temperament was lighter than the rest. He and the seizer seemed to be getting on well, but the steely grey stallion was causing a fuss. He would have to get the boys to help hobble the brute before he did damage to the others.

Joe returned with the other wranglers and they made ready to fish out the ill chestnut and the young black.

In another pen, Nandalie stood in a corner with his nose through the bars, comforting Irawaddy. The strawberry roan was quite annoyed that he had gotten him and his mares caught, but he was determined not to let Irawaddy feel sad. The tan bay was his favourite mare, though he would never admit it. He liked to keep equality in his herd, but the bay’s winning personality was more than perfect. He nuzzled her, trying his best to nibble her mane but he had barely any head movement. Coorah was in another pen altogether, and he could do nothing but call to her occasionally to reassure her.

In the pen with him was a black colt with white spots, a bad-tempered bay and a over-friendly grey colt. He ignored them for the most part, warning the bay away with a stanp of his hoof now and then. He had no wish to start a fight in just close quarters – Nandalie was a calm stallion –but it was inevitable if the bay continued to rage like that.

In the same pen as Irawaddy, a chocolate-caramel filly with a mix of flaxen and brown hairs streaking her mane was pressed up to the fence. Her suitor, a white-spotted black colt was in the same pen as the roan, and the filly was making a lot of noise. In what little room she had, she paced back and forth, nickering and neighing to Prisma through the rails. She was worried and frightened, and Prisma was the only familiar brumby here. Her mother had been captured with her but she had not seen Brael since the men roped her and took her with the first group of brumbies.

OOC: Jason is after getting Darel and Wahn out to tie around the other side of the hut with Kimba and a few other NPC horses, is that alright?

[yaruka]

Irawaddy kept her nose pressed close to Nandalie, or as close as the wooden bars would allow. Every now and then she was would sigh and blow gently in to his nostrils, then turn to see if she couldn't catch sight of Coorah and reassure her palomino friend. She didn't blame Nandalie for their capture, it was hardly the stallion's fault, but she knew Wyuna did. Her ears flickered back occasionally at the sound of the pony mare's raging but after the third day of being snapped at she had given up trying to reassure the seal brown, close up that was. She still maintained a friendly prescense to her froma distance, hoping the brown would relax eventually. She knew not where Amarina was and this concerned her, though not as much as the thought of her daughter being captured. Irawaddy was certain that her filly would not have been able to deal with the new experiences the men brought, surely she would have retreated even further into herself, perhaps irreversibly. Besides, she had a glimmer of hope. Last night the gang-gangs had spoke of a small band of mismatched brumbies not far, but safe enough from danger. She had thought they'd described a filly just like her own, long-legged, solid bay roan and incredibly shy. Gently she lipped Nandalie's muzzle, sensing his frustration with himself and trying to reassure him that it wasn't his fault, that nobody blamed him, which wasn't entirely true if one included Wyuna, but Wyuna had blamed Nandalie for everything since day one, she hardly represented a fair viewpoint.

Sour tempered as ever, Wyuna stood in the farthest corner of the pen, rump pressed up against the bars and shooting the occasional glare at Nandalie. The men hadn't come near her since the first day, when she had lunged at them snapping, so maybe they had learnt their lesson. There had to be a way out of here, she had found a way the first time and she would this time as well. As soon as this pen cleared out a bit she planned on trying to make the jump.

Wahn turned his head away from the conversation with the two red horses to gaze with curiosity at the activites of the men. They were stirring again, much in the same manner as they had when they had taken the last bunch of brumbies from their midst. Though he may be almost invariably even-tempered, showing nothing but mild interest in everything, Wahn missed nothing. But the men's movements merely intrigued him, he felt no jolt of fear as they approached.

OOC: sure, that's fine with me

[{ Opal }]

OOC: I'm not sure how the whole rounding up process works, so I'll just give it my best go. ^^

Darel noticed that Wahn was distracted by something, and he followed the colt's gaze, surprised to find men suddenly bustling around the area. Darel snorted nervously, backing away from the busy scene; he somehow got the feeling that he was involved, and didn't like it. But suddenly something flew through the air, slipped over his neck, and jerked hard. Darel let loose a crazed scream and his hooves dug into the ground, bracing backward, and he wriggling fiercely with the taut rope. But something powerful was at the other end, and he found himself unable to breath. Reminded of the seizure that took place not long before, Darel quickly gave up the fight, and let his head hang limply in the rope's clutches. Slack was soon given, and Darel quickly gulped in the air, as if he couldn't get enough. But he only had a moment to rest before the rope was pulling again, and Darel had no choice but to follow. He shot Wahn one last terrified glance before he was led out of the pen.
As soon as he saw Kimba, Darel's eyes just lit up, his posture grew eager, and the rope was no longer forcing him along. A joyous whinny slipped from his throat, but not long after Darel's expression darkened. She was caught. She was a hostage, no better than him. Oh, Kimba, he thought sadly, You're not supposed to be here. A pang of sorrow hit his heart as he saw the mare's listlessness; it was so unlike her. Before long Darel was tethered and hobbled just like the rest of the bunch, the ones that were unwanted and useless.

Kurra was drawn out of his brooding by an annoyed stamp from a stallion next to him. Kurra whirled around to face the brute, his incisors bared and eyes glaring with savage intent. For a moment he just stood there, body tense and rigid, nostrils flaring. But then Kurra broke the wild moment, turning away from the stallion with a jerk of his head. He cast an angry glare in the brumby's direction, but otherwise returned to his moody sulking without further ado. I could have fought him... but I didn't. Kurra thought, with a gleam of triumph in his eyes. Before the drive, he would have just lashed out, but this time he controlled his mean temper. Controlled it. And it was a good thing, too; after a lost fight and the brumby run, he wasn't exactly in good condition for a brawl. But later, Kurra promised himself, he would be ready. Ready and willing.

[tingara]

Back and forth, back and forth a young stallion barely three years old paced. He fretted and called out repeatedly, he would not stop. His black and white spotted coat was caked in sweat and a little dried blood on his legs from gashes the Brumby Run had gifted him. Ears pricked and eyes firmly on one filly in the other pen Prisma whinnied urgently to Calca.

There was nothing more than the Prince wanted than to be with her, comfort her through the fear they were both feeling. He ignored the fuss the steel grey, Coorain, was kicking up in another pen. In fact he ignored all the others, all Prisma could see was Calca. He barely acknowledged the bad tempered bay and weird grey colt with which he shared the pen. His whole body trembled with nervous energy as he whinnied reassuringly at Calca, everything would be ok... he hoped.

How could he have let this happen? He should have followed his father and Burnum but no, he had thought he knew better. Prisma had thought he was immune to the men and their ropes and fences. The colt had payed the price for his foolishness and somehow in all the confusion Calca had appeared with him. They would escape and it would be together, she would see.

He tried desperately to reach her with his nose. With his neck fully extended he was barely able to catch a strand of her mane in his mouth. “It will be ok, we’ll get out of this,” he whickered, wanting both her and himself to believe his words.

[Tiggs]

As expected, the young black stallion and the ill-fated chestnut put up little resistance and they were moved around to the rear of the hut. What Jason had not anticipated was the reaction of the chestnut stallion to the little chestnut filly. Following a hunch, he directed the men to tether the stallion next to the filly while the black colt was tethered a little further away. He directed the men to help hobble the two males, aware that they could be unpredictable.

Kimba instantly brightened at the sound of Darel’s voice. She lifted her head and whinnied with all her might. From the sullen depressed little filly, she was suddenly alert and enthusiastic. She strained against the ropes to touch her stallion’s muzzle with her own, annoyed at the limited range. “Darel! Oh Darel I thought you were gone! I saw you fall in the drive, but I could not get to you! There were so many others, I could not even turn!” She closed her eyes, blissful at the comforting touch of his muzzle, the only part of him she could reach. “I thought you were dead.” She whispered, afraid to even speak the words.

Jason looked on in fascination, gesturing at the other men who also seemed surprised. “Looks like our little girl was just love-sick.” He shook his head, knowing this complicated things with the stallion. He was no use to ride, and the Doc said he might not even be good to breed. But the filly was good stock, and it seemed her spirit was directly tied to the ill stallion. If they could find someone to take both of them, then that might solve the issue, but who wanted a good-for-nothing stallion just to keep one filly happy? He sighed. This would take a lot of effort and asking around. He hoped it was possible, he would hate to see the filly go to waste, and the stallion would get an extra few years before the knacker took him for dog food.

Back in the holding pens, Calca whinnied pitifully to Primsa, clinging to his words and wishing he would be right. If only they had any way to escape. She calmed enough to touch her quivering nose to his before she resumed pacing. Things had been so easy before the men came. She and Prisma had been secretly courting, avoiding her father just to see each other. And now they were caught! And not even in the same pen. She had to trust him to get her out of here. He was a Prince, after all.

[yaruka]

Wahn had offered little resistance to the men as they had lassooed him and brought him over to the side of the hut. Sure, he had balked a little when they had begun to pull him, after all, how was he suppose to understand what the tug on the rope had meant? But over all he had been quite agreeable, showing more curiousity than fear. At Kimba's whinny he turned his head, watching her with pricked ears and stopping for a moment. But continued pulling on the rope had convinced him to move beyond the chestnut filly, though Darel had remained by her. He was glad to see the chestnut stallion perking up a little, Darel had been downcast for as long as Wahn had known him, and Wahn hated others to feel sad. The men tied him up behind the a strange brown building, preoccupying Wahn for a moment as he watched their quick actions. The rough voice of a man caught the attention of the other men and they hurried away, staring with fascination at the two chestnuts. Now bored, Wahn reached forward to knaw at the wooden post he was tied to, eventually moving his mouth to lip at the knot in the course rope. With nimble lips he played with the rope, before beginning to chew on it, sucking with the bliss of a colt that has too early been weaned from it's mother. It was quite satisfying to suck on, and Wahn chewed harder, harder until....it broke clean in his teeth. Curiously, the black coat reached forward to nose at the frayed ends. Noting his increased range of mobility, he wandered over to the other side of the hut, intending to munch on the tasty looking grass beside it.


OOC: hehe, I love Wahn <3

[{ Opal }]

Darel was enlightened by Kimba's renewed vigor, and felt some of the pain in his heart ease. At least he had one thing to be thankful for: they were here together. Darel nickered reassuringly at the mare's exclamations, and he, too, tugged at the bothersome ropes. Stretching out his neck allowed him to reach her face, but it was torment to be so restricted. So Darel made do with pressing his muzzle against hers, which served to comfort him as much as Kimba. "I thought you were dead." Darel shuddered without his knowing, and he murmured fearfully, "I thought so, too." He could not conceal his horrified expression as he recalled the drive.
At the sound of dragging rope, Darel glanced over to where he had seen Wahn taken, and was surprised to find only loose ends of cord. His ears flicked back confusedly; where had the youngster gotten too? Darel heard some noise, and when he looked, there was the colt! "Wahn?!" he exclaimed. He felt sure that Wahn wasn't supposed to be wandering about, and as he glanced anxiously at the men, he couldn't help but wonder what they might do to the colt if they found him freed. Suddenly an idea came to Darel's mind, and he cried, "Go on, Wahn, run!" He had to get away soon, before they recaptured him!