Foal Frolic

[parlosdream]

Brazen strode ito the terra, her thirst was starting to get the best of her as she was starting to wander about. Rogue was growing into his legs and growing stronger and faster every day. He was a handful, but that was to be expected of a strong young colt. In fact, he was now galloping around the lake, bucking and kicking as he did so. Brazen walked to the water, the wounds on her leg healed over and her limp was gone. She was back to herself, finally wild and free with a lovely herd and a stallion that accepted her wonderful colt. She lowered her head and drank deeply of the silky water, lifting her head only as Rogue slid into her as he could not avoid her on his path around. She chuckled softly, watching him gallop and cavort around, tossing his head and flicking his tail.

[flyff]

A mare trotted easily into the Watering Hole, her creamy mane flying high like a banner. it was a surprisingly cool day for summer... undoubtedly, fall was near. She could feel it in the air, in her bones. Summer would be over soon. Soon, the weather would be cold, and then she would wish she was back with her herd, fighting alongside with her herd. Causing trouble, hitting and running and raiding like the barbarians they were.... oh, how she longed for that life again. She knew not of how she had come here, to this land, but she knew she wanted to go back to where she had once been. Cayla's home. Her true home.

Elegant legs extended, increasing in speed, pulling her into a canter that carried her all the way to the water. She considered drinking for a moment, but decided against it, as she really was not thirsty in the very least. She was not hungry. She was miserable and, for once in her life, a little scared. She wanted her old herd back.

[parlosdream]

Amid his running and frolicking, Rogue almost slid into the new mare. He reared up, startled and scared. A call flew from his nostrils, bringing Brazen in a hurry. Summer had been kind to both mare and foal. They had filled out nicely and their coats were starting to grow. Brazen's injuries were well healed and Rogue was turning out such a lovely colt. Already he was strong and growing nicely. His coat was gleaming like the darkest chocolate and his muscles were gaining strength rapidly. He graced the ground again and snorted at the mare, circling her slightly. Brazen stood back, waiting to see what would happen. He would be leaving her next spring and she wanted to see what he could handle on his own.

[Swede]

Igraine's finely chiseled head swung up from the grass at the sounds of horses, closer than the others had been. She was fairly lonely; oh sure, Maerad and Canisp were company, but perhaps it would be better to say that all three were lonely. Canisp needed someone her age to play with, and Igraine just needed a break. As for Maerad, well, she had no idea what that mare needed. A reality check? She shruggeed, and whinnied a greeting that floated on the breeze. Perhaps she could chat a bit, or just spend some time near others. The three had traveled alone for a while, and it was straining.

Canisp's ear twitched at the sound of her mother's call, and her eyes opened. She had been sleeping in the grey mare's shadow, shielded from the sun and flies. Her black body twitched, and she rolled to her feet. She peered around from under her mother's neck, and the bright young eyes quickly took in the sight of the two mares. She was most interested by the colt, but a little intimidated as well- he looked olde,r and was obviously bigger. Being a Welsh foal, only a couple weeks old, wasn't always easy in a wilderness filled with fullsized horses. Tucked close to her mother, she felt safe, and curious eyes could still drink their fill of sights.

Maerad echoed Igraine's greeting. Luckily for them, they had avoided stallions thus far, and she had had a ball in the wild for the first time, with her friend Igraine and little Canisp to frolic with. Still, she could understand how tough it must have been on the older grey mare; watching out for a young foal, taking care of Maerad the first-timer in the wild, and fulfilling a typical stallions duties of keeping guard and protecting all at the same time was hard. Maerad, a six year old bay, would have gone insane. Luckily, Igraine was of tougher material than that. Still, she had seemed a bit on edge lately, and irritable. Well, more irritable than normal, anyway. She trotted closer, not at all afraid of the horses several hands taller than she was. She was curious, and sometimes foolish, but never reckless. At least she had learned something from sensible Igraine.

Canisp noticed a little orange butterfly flutter by, and gave chase. Igraine called, "Don't go too far, Canisp." The black filly heard, but was too interested in her quarry to answer. Trotting behind Maerad, she pounced forward, only for the pretty insect to dodge her attack.

[flyff]

Cayla, on instinct, bared her teeth and snapped at the rambunctious young colt that had boldly come up to her. She had never really enjoyed the young ones... foals in her old herd had learned to stay uninjured by staying out of the adults' way. Yes, it had been a tough life for fillies and colts growing up in her warrior-like clan, but they were raised to be mares and stallions as tough as leather, and equally as fit for battle.

She tossed her creamy mane in a superior way, glaring at the shoddy-looking mare that was undoubtedly his mother. Could she not restrain him from running in dizzying circles around strangers? At least the mothers in her old herd had been able to do so.

Her eye caught on three new horses... two mares, and another little filly. Fantastic, she thought rather grumpily, stamping her feet and shaking her eyes to shoo away the pestering mosquitoes. At least this filly knew not to rush in and mess around with strangers.

And this led her back to memories of her life before, with the strange, martial-spirited horses that she had known for all her life. How they had roamed the territories, fought the herds and often left them ravaged, and left the terra behind, throwing their laughter at the miserable souls they had come upon, that had not been strong enough to stand up to them. They were the terror of their old land, and they had lost very few battles. Few lead stallions had been able to fight them. Mares and stallions had equal status, and all was based on performance.

Why they lived this way, no one would know. It wasn't that they found it overly pleasurable to hurt others... but they were strong horses, always joshing each other. They'd jokingly send up stallions to challenge the lead of a herd, and then would come the fight, and then afterwards they would just say they hadn't been interested in the terra in the first place. They were warmongers, vagabonds, a tricky and foul but powerful lot.

All this kibosh about your old herd... you're just going to turn into a sentimental wuss if you keep on like that, she told herself stubbornly, tearing herself away from the memories. the memories that would become painful if she continued to reflect on them.

[Swede]

ooc: posting A) because I am dead bored, B) so that I can set my plot rolling, and C) I fear that I will get that nasty notice of "Post your horses soon or they will be put up for adoption". *shudders* I hate that thing...

Igraine raised her eyebrows slightly at the palomino. She set the colt in his place, right enough, just like any horse would have done. Still, the grey mare was not too fond of the other's bearing, and her manner. Almost as though she needed a lesson taught, and not just the colt. Igraine was the type who would quite gladly deal out reality checks. She stood for no nonsense, and sensibility was what she lived by. One did not get on well in the wild if one was a foolish ditz, or if one could not set straight fact from fantasy. She was not sure what this mare was, but to Igraine, she was not likeable. Her gaze swept across the other mare, the colt's mother. Her character was difficult to judge, as she had done little so far.

Maerad followed Igraine's gaze, from the palomino to the other mare. Then, she sighed. Who were they, anyway? friend or foe? Hopefully friends; Maerad was sick and tired of getting chased off by larger horses who looked down their noses at Welshes. Still, some of them had learned a life lesson, courtesy of Igraine's hoof: never underestimate an irritated pony mare. She nickered, both boldly and politely. Someone say something. She was getting a little uneasy, what with this observing of each other. Her hooves shifted, a little closer to Igraine, whose ears were pricked, reading body language for hints of whether it was time to leave. Both were too distracted to notice that Canisp had wandered into the trees, happily chasing her butterfly. The filly had discreetly and accidentally vanished.

[flyff]

The beautiful champagne mare sighed, shaking her head. The horses here were all sorts of wusses, frustratingly enough. It was as if manners were of utmost importance.

"What?" she snapped irately at the one pony mare that had been studying her so oddly. "Do I look like some kind of violent savage to you?" She had heard the insult many times, directed at her and her family members from the horses in other herds, and it bounced off her brain and off into space. Cayla was a bit haughty, but one could blame her upbringing for that.

[parlosdream]

Rogue snorted loudly at the mare, pinning his ears and rearing up. He screamed at the nasty mare and bucked, tossing his head. He was a smaller colt, but he acted large for his age. He snorted loudly, turning on his haunches and trotting towards his mother, Brazen. His brush tail was starting to grow out more and his winter coat was coming in almost a black color. He was a deep chocolate colt with no markings at all. He pranced as he headed that way, other mares catching his attention. A filly was with them, but she had vanished...Hey..a potential playmate left.

He trotted to the new mares, his head upright and tail flouncing. He approached them slowly, his hooves fluffing up puffs of dust. "Good day, my ladies." He tried to remember his manners as he bowed to them. Brazen chuckled softly and strode over to them, her head upright. The loud bay pinto pony was walking smoothly and without a limp after her ordeal. Her son was growing larger every day and was a brave pony.
" Good day, my ladies, I am sorry if my son has bothered you. He is such a rogue at times, hence his name. I am Brazen and it is a pleasure to meet you."

[Swede]

Igraine snorted disdainfully at the champagne mare. "You don't look like one. But you act like one and sound like one, which is worse." Her tail swished irritably. She smiled at the bold colt and his mother and replied, "My name is Igraine. Pleasure to meet you, Rogue and Brazen." Maerad echoed her, "And I am Maerad, nice to meet you as well." She sniffed curiously at the colt, who was a bit bigger than Canisp. Then, she nodded to his mother. But it was the odd mare who caught her eye. Curiosiyt killed the cat, they say, and Maerad was a very inquisitive cat. She trotted right up to the other mare, and said quite frankly, "What's your name? And why so pessimistic?" Igraine shook her head. There went Maerad again, no doubt causing problems for herself. Igraine stretched her neck long. It felt good to relax a bit. Then, she said to Brazen, "Are you natives of this place? We're passing through, no clue where we are, really, but..." she shrugged. Did it matter if they knew where they were?

[flyff]

The proud mare eyed the Welsh that confronted her up and down quickly before replying. "My name is Cayla," she snapped, her dark blue eyes flashing. "And what's your name? Maerad or something, is it? Right. Yeah. Keep out of my business, thanks, because as far as I know, to anyone else in my old herd, I'm not pessimistic, as you say it, in the least." She also snapped, baring her teeth, at the rambunctious little colt.

"Keep in line, boy," she told the reddish colt with narrowed eyes. "You'd be punished for impudence, where I come from." But then again, where I come from, the horses aren't polite sissies like the ones here, she thought with a bit of a sigh. She completely ignored the other mare that had spoken, although she muttered to herself, "Yeah, well at least I'm not a completely wuss."