mare of the south, [O]

[Corowa]

Silently the mare slipped through the snowgums, here in the deep gullies of the Brolga’s Country where the tall mountain ash merged with bare snowgrass ridges. Here where the slope grew steeper and rougher, Wilgee dropped her head to graze, slowly moving further from the sheltering fringe of bush. When currawongs told of men and the mountains rang with the crack of stockwhips, the creamy mare had turned southwards, towards the Brolga’s Country where the long finger of gullies stretching back into the mountains would hide her.

Shivering, Wilgee threw up her head, skin tingling with fear and dread. With a snort, the mare backed hastily into the trees, where her pale creamy hide would not show. Surely, something had been watching from the thick scrubby timber further up the slope. Peering through the leathery leaves of the snowgums, Wilgee strained her ears to the fullest. When a currawong called out once and was silent, the mare jumped, felt sweat break out behind her ears.

Yet there was no jangle of the bit, no whistle of the rope, as it pulled tight around her neck. Curious, the mare stepped slowly from the snowgums, glistening in the sunlight so it was as if she were a lissom wraith. Ears twitching nervously, Wilgee did not move, though she was ready to spring away, muscles rippling under that gleaming creamy coat. For she possessed the swiftness of Tambo, the nimble footedness of Thowra, and there was none who would catch her.


OOC: This is mainly for Ehetere, but anyone can post. However, Wilgee isn't looking for a mob at the moment.

[Ehetere]

Illoura was still trotting quietly through the bush; trying to put as much distance between her and the man’s yards as possible. She had been foolish to go down to them, and feared that she may have been seen and that there would be more man hunts for a pretty silver filly. Now she was in the Brolga’s country, and its many hiding places would keep her safe from prying eyes. Or so she thought. The scent of another brumby was floating in the wind; one whom she had never met before. To be true, Illoura never really introduced herself to the other horses she passed in her travels, but she would always know if she had smelt their scent before. This brumby she knew, she had never before encountered in these vast hills.

She crossed a ridge; following the direction that the other brumby’s smell had originated from. Keeping well covered and hidden in-between the trunks of the gums and timber, she looked out on to a rough slope where a dunalino filly was grazing. But it seemed that the filly had felt eyes on her coat, and she sprang back into the cover of the tree line. Illoura simply watched, following the slightest of movements of light and shade between the branches; knowing exactly what to look for as she had often had to find her own mother this way. But the filly did not flee; obviously realising that no man was after her. She stepped back out from the snowgums, the sun’s rays illuminating her coat. She looked very similar to herself, Illoura thought, and surely they were related. But the filly’s posture didn’t truly relax; and it seemed as if she was ready to spring away at the slightest provocation. So then Illoura stepped confidently out of her hiding place and into the sunshine with her tail held high and her neck arched into a flowing curve; feeling that she should share the beauty that this other filly was exhibiting. After all, Beautiful was her namesake.

[kallinga]

A horse that was dark like the last light of the sun moved silently through the bushes. He hailed from the Pilots today. Eager to sire an heir, Kallinga was on the prowl for his next addition to his one-mare herd. The only mare he had was Yuru, the seducer. But, she was a valuable addition. Sleek hide and silky mane against a backdrop of the snow topped mountains made the men lose interest in Kallinga and go after her instead. Kallinga said to himself now "there are pretty mares about." He stepped out of the snow gums and into a place where the mare could see him. Kallinga guessed the mare was a creamy, or maybe a dun. He grew tired of the usual chestnuts and bays, and strangely ugly browns. He was looking for something a bit more...exquisite. He saw her body..a strange build unlike his own and of his regal ancestor, The Brolga. She was strangely svelte, with - YES! - she was a creamy. Although Kallinga was a fairly heavy horse, he was graceful, and with the grace he so often possessed, he stepped up to the mare

[Corowa]

A fine creamy filly stepped from the snowgums, and Wilgee stilled, trembling violently as she gave a ringing neigh of greeting. Sunlight turned the filly silver, pale mane and tail glistening, for the light seemed drawn to her. With that proud swinging carriage, the mare moved towards the silver filly, longing for companionship and filled with wonderment.

It was the wise old mopoke who spoke of two silver brumbies, mare and filly, silver and cream hides gleaming in the sun. Yet Wilgee was unaware of anything but this glistening shining filly. A chestnut stallion watched them, slowly advancing through the snowgums until he stood at the edge of the trees, strangely menacing.

Every nerve tingled, and her skin crept, as slowly she reached out her nose to touch this silver filly so alike herself. A light breeze lifted her forelock, and Wilgee snorted and moved away. “I am Wilgee, daughter of Bootoolgah and of Woorun, granddaughter of Tambo and Wanga,” she said, and her curiosity grew. For who was this strange filly, she who carried the blood of the silver brumbies and moved with the lightness of the wind itself?

It was then, a fine chestnut stallion came proudly stepping down the slope, and Wilgee, head upflung, stood ready to vanish with the wind. Quivering with excitement, the mare reared up playfully beside the silver filly, and with a swift nip, pranced towards the trees. Mocking the stallion with a laughing whinny, Wilgee called to the silver filly, coaxed her away to where they could lead this handsome young stallion on a merry dance through the snowgums.

[Ehetere]

The other creamy filly neighed a greeting to her, and pranced in her direction. Illoura whickered back and they touched noses. “I am Wilgee, daughter of Bootoolgah and of Woorun, granddaughter of Tambo and Wanga,” said the filly. Aha, they were indeed related, just as Illoura had suspected. "I am named Illoura, and was called thus by my grandsire, Baringa, who thought I was so Beautiful in the golden dawning light. Tambo is my great grand-sire and Kunama is by great grand-dam. We must be sisters of the wind," murmured Illoura to Wilgee, and knew instinctively that they would be good friends. Would it not be sensible for two carefree silver brumbies to run together and cause so much trouble and have so much fun?

Just then a movement in the snowgums caught Illoura's eye; a liver chestnut emerged stepping proudly. But he wasn't looking at Illoura; he was looking at the other silver filly; Wilgee. Illoura was used to being paid the most of the attention, or at least share in it. To be ignored... well it had never happened before. Wilgee had noticed the stallion too, and nipped Illoura before making off in the direction of the treeline from which Illoura had originally emerged; mocking the stallion all the way. She too appeared not to be seeking a herd, and together with the blood of both Thowra and Tambo running through their veins, Illoura was sure they could lead this stallion a merry dance indeed. Illoura mocked and laughed at the stallion who had not seen it fit to even turn an eye to her, all the while prancing and dancing in Wilgee's direction, ready to turn and race with the wind through the twisting trunks.

[kallinga]

Kallinga smiled at the young fillies, admiring their female lustre. He liked these two. Kallinga would be both King of the High Country, and mate of the two prettiest mares in the world. They must be of Thowra's noble blood, as is that strange mare Angel... he thought. Deciding to lull the mares into a hypnotic trance, Kallinga spoke, his voice lilting and soft. I am Kallinga. Named for the setting sun that gives the last rays of daylight. Born from mighty Steel and the pale unnamed roan daughter of Goonda, the mare named for the fire. I am strong like my grandsire The Brolga, who's land you so gaily step on. What, o fillies, brings you to frolic in my grandsire's country? Now, Kallinga noticed the other mare. Definately a descendant of Baringa, his sire's great enemy. How come these two fillies had inherited their ancestors' colour and look, but he, also a descendant of the Silver Herd, was a plain liver chestnut? Kallinga smiled again and extended his nose to the other filly; the one who looked at himlike he had just made a bad decision.

[yaruka]

The two mares were not the only pale ones out frolicking in the snow. A ghostly silver colt also played and pranced in the snowy landscape, stirring up puffs of powder with each fall of his neat hooves. It was nearing the end of winter and Kareela felt the wanderlust of spring in his blood, for in the spring he would be two and ready to start a life of his own. He had strayed away from his mother and father, the grey stallion Maluka and the lovely silver mare Barina, in search of some adventure on this glorious winter day. He knew it worried his mother when he wandered off but he couldn’t help it on occasion, he had spent all his life an only child, lacking in playmates from the start. Of course his parents often ran with him, Barina particularly was always sprightly and energetic. But Kareela craved the company of other young horses, the horses of his future. As he pranced along the small ridges of the ancient Brogla’s country the scent of other horses reached his nostrils. Cresting the rise he caught sight of two lightly coloured mares and a liver chestnut stallion. Before he could help himself he had called out an impulsive whinny of greeting. Immediately horrified at his lapse in caution, he whirled with the wind and snow and was gone, hidden below the crest of the hill. Barina, a silver brumby herself, had always taken care to make sure he knew how to avoid notice when he did not wish to be seen. But seconds after he had hidden a feeling of shame and rebellion washed over him. He was not a coward so why should he remain hidden? He only wanted to visit the other horses after all. He knew he shouldn’t approach an obviously older stallion, but his sights were not set on the mares, he was probably related to them anyway-most of the silver brumbies in the High Country were in some way connected to Thowra and his kin. This thought sent another thrill of excitement coursing through his veins, what stories would they have to tell? These mares could be his distant cousins! He’d always wanted a sibling and here they were, relatives of sorts. So, all caution thrown to the wind Kareela emerged from his hiding place, stepping out confidently so that it was not apparent he had been hidden at all. Proudly he strode towards the other horses, shining silver in the late afternoon sun, silken mane and tail flung about him carelessly in the wind.

[Corowa]

Wilgee’s ears pricked forwards and she stilled for a moment, there on the edge of the snowgums. One forefoot raised, she listened to the wind moaning through the slabs of granite, the uppermost snowgums swaying so the whispering of their leaves hid the passing of another silent watcher.

“You are not the only brumby to carry the blood of the Brolga, Kallinga,” Wilgee said lightly. With a toss of her head, the mare danced nimbly back on her hind legs. The sudden call of a mopoke made the mare shy, for its queer double call seemed strangely threatening. When its call rang out once more, from further up the spur, she threw up her head and through the ghostly trunks of the alpine ash; there came the faintest wisp of movement. Wilgee shivered, for was it brumby or man who flitted so silently between the trees.

Then from the snowgums, a splendid creamy colt slipped. Lifted by the gentle breeze, his mane and tail rippled silver in the morning light. With a joyous whinny, Wilgee greeted him, for there in his fine-chiselled head and proud step was the undoubtable trace of Thowra’s blood. Sunlight glowed in her mane, and the mare pranced forwards. Playfully she nipped him, bumping his shoulder with her nose. “I am Wilgee,” she said shyly, for he was indeed beautiful. “Whither have you come, young one? What is it the winds tell from the south?”

[Ehetere]

Wilgee had reached the trees and Illoura spotted a flicker of movement and then a silvery colt; obviously of the same blood as her. But the chestnut had moved towards her, and seemed to be saying something that she couldn't quite hear, or perhaps she was too busy keeping an eye on the silver colt. And then that chestnut stallion extended his nose to her! She threw up her head in alarm; sending her silvery silken mane whirling through the air. She snorted loudly in astonishment; how dare he be so impertinent?

Illoura had been raised to be polite and courteous to everyone around her including the many bush creatures; and expected the same back. Many of the stallions who approached her in hope of winning her for their herds were over excited and silly; but few of them actually came up to her expecting to be accepted straight away, and any that did soon found out that this was a mistake. However this was different. This stallion was acting as if she was already his or that she must simply join him. How could any stallion be so arrogant? By this point Illoura was beginning to grow angry. No, anger was a too mild emotion. Perhaps fury was a better way to describe it. This stallion had either failed to notice or had simply ignored her beauty when he had first entered the clearing and now he was treating her with this presumptuous, overbearing manner that was just plain rude! Illoura couldn't care less about courtesy at this point.

Illoura saw red and screamed; her call so high and sounding as if it were borne on the wild winds of a storm. She then half reared and whipped around, giving the heavy liver chestnut what she hoped was no time to react and viciously kicked out at him. She felt her sharp hooves hit something hard, before galloping off in the direction of Wilgee and the silver colt at a speed that could have rivaled Thowra himself. Her high pitched whinny rang through the echoing valley; getting louder and louder until it filled the air around her and her ears rang and buzzed. She swept up the hillside faster than most horses could follow; surely the older, heavier stallion would not be able to keep up. She after all knew the country so well, as one who wanders does, and would have been able to escape the second she entered the trees if she had wanted to; but that was not really what was on Illoura's mind at this moment. Escaping would frustrate the stallion; but not infuriate him, as she wanted to do.

So she propped to a standstill almost instantly with tremendous effort, her hooves sliding slightly through the grass, but knowing that her display was impressive. She turned to the stallion again and mocked and scorned him; tossing her mane and her tail streaming like a banner. Never before had she been so angry, and usually her games with stallion were in fun not spite. If she could lame or injure him more, she would just so that he may not molest any more mares for a while.

[kallinga]

Kallinga knew one mare was looking to annoy him, so he went for the other. "You are indeed beautiful," he said "but why are you alone in this world? Surely a filly such as you would have been claimed by now?" A fly landed on him and he twitched it off, making his coat shimmer in the sunlight. "If you are looking for someone, perhaps I will be of help. If not, it was indeed a pleasure to come across you."