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Post by erosaf on Feb 16, 2010 8:42:20 GMT 8
Note to readers: This is something that I wrote 7 years ago, so when I was about 12 years old, since it was before I turned 13. It is my first ever novel, and at the time of creating it, I was not writing fanfiction. So this is prior to then. Garto, Dawntango, you might be a little shocked by the poor quality of this. It was written back in the days when I had no one to read over my stories and help me to improve. And now I present to you - The Golden Brumby....
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Post by erosaf on Feb 16, 2010 8:47:57 GMT 8
How It All Began
One dark stormy night in spring, Lubra the palomino brumby mare, mate of Fransisco gave birth to a colt foal. She has a medium sized head, keen alert eyes, graceful arched long muscular neck, well-developed chest, deep girth, powerful hindquarters, strong legs and she was noble, proud, intelligent, keen and alert. The foal was a pale chestnut colour with beautiful blue-brown eyes and she knew he would be a palomino at some stage.
The wind howled all day but never touched them because she and the little foal were too far in the little cave and safe. There he lay on the soft white sand, pale in colour against the raging story. “I will call you Delmarva, which means wind. In wind you were born, and fast as the wind must you be, if you are to survive,” she said.
She was very alone with her day old foal, and far away from her own herd, but that was how she felt it must be. She had always lived a hunted life, perhaps because of her colour, so much more difficult to hide than bay or brown, chestnut or grey, and when a foal was going to be born, she hid far away.
Dawn came very slowly, showing first the dark outline of the cave mouth against a slightly lighter sky, then on the hillside below them, reaching long fingers of forest right up to the rocks. The wind tormented heads of the snow gums, driven and lashed as if they must tear themselves up by the roots. The rain and wild winds had stopped.
That day, she did not take him far, only to a wide-open field in the show gums. That night they went back to the opening of the cave, and the little foal slept on the dry sand, curled up against his mother’s flank.
The next day she decided to take him further, to a large opener field in the snow gum forest where the grass grew sweetly, even as early in the spring as this, and the creek ran shallow over a sand and mica bottom.
They reached Snow Grass Plain to find a black brumby grazing in the sun. Lubra became completely still watching, then she recognised the mare as mare of her own herd, Spit Fire, who had been caught as a yearling by man, and somehow managed to get free again.
Spit Fire for this reason was very nervous of man, and she and Lubra had often run away together, away from the herd, when they thought the others were far too near the stockman’s hut.
Now Lubra made out a dark shape on the ground near Spit Fire, and knew, that she too, had had a foal. Spit Fire had a fine head, intelligent eyes, well-developed neck, sloping hindquarters, sturdy strong legs and she was intelligent, obedient, and enthusiastic.
Unafraid she led Delmarva out to greet them. When Spit Fire, saw them coming, she gave a whinny of greeting, and Lubra arched her neck a little and stepped proudly beside her son.
Spit Fire was pleased to see her. He black half sister was very happy to see that Lubra had finally had a foal the same colour as herself. She knew that Lubra would be proud, because usually she only had normal coloured foals.
“Hello Lubra,” she said, “what a fine foal you have, palomino too! I must show you my foal.” She nosed the black colt at her feet.
The black colt raised his head sleepily, but seeing strangers, became wide awake and struggled to his feet.
“A fine intelligent head,” said Lubra, “what do you call him?”
“Stars-Sam, for the storm, “Spit Fire answered, “and yours?”
“Delmarva, the wind. They will be great mates for a year or so,” Lubra replied.
Delmarva and Stars-Sam sniffed one another, and then turned back to their mothers for a drink. The two foals were equal in size and strength, and when they were able to follow their mothers for a very long distance Lubra, and Spit Fire, who had grown restless to rejoin their herd, started moving off to the south.
They travelled for several hours the next day, and got plenty of sleep that night. Then the small group headed for Bob’s Ridge. Once they reached the base of the ridge, they allowed the foals to sleep in the warm sunshine on the soft grass.
Lubra and Spit Fire grazed contently a little way off. All was quiet. There was the sound of the river running full and strong with water from the melted snow, and the sound of currawongs, but other wise a profound silence. Even the mares had grown sleepy, when all of a sudden there was a shrill whinny of fear from Delmarva.
Lubra sprang around to see Delmarva leaping from his sleep, and there grabbing at him as he leapt was a man. Calling the foals, she charged with Spit Fire and another pair of men hidden, roped them. Terrified, the colts galloped off, not knowing where to go. They splashed through the river, and cantered back towards Snow Grass Plain. They swung out away from there though, not wanting to be easily tracked. Just then Delmarva remembered a great long mountain range that they’d previously by passed. The two colts swung towards Wild Horse Range, anxious to find the herd. As they approached the range, two mares, and a grey and a bay, came into view.
“Hello young colts,” snorted the grey friendlily. “Where are your mothers? You’re a long way from Fransisco.”
“Two men just captured them. Which way is their herd? We’ve never met our sire,” said Delmarva bravely. As he did not know these horses or how they knew who their father was, he thought it best to keep some of the finer details to himself, even though they seemed friendly.
“Well, we are heading that way,” said the grey, “why don’t you two let Olio and I raise you both? I happen to be half sister to Lubra. Out of all my siblings she is the one I remember best. My name is Marsha.”
Liking the idea, Delmarva chose Marsha, whilst Stars-Sam chose Olio. So they headed off towards Wild Horse Ridge, which they could not rest until they were on top. It was a hard climb; there were so many loose boulders. Finally the foals dropped down to sleep under a beautiful pair of oak trees.
It was evening when the four horses looked down into a narrow valley of the Main Range and saw their own herd grazing. Just then the great chestnut stallion of the herd saw them and gave a whinny of greeting. The mares moved down, trotting proudly just ahead of their frightened foals.
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Post by erosaf on Apr 6, 2010 14:39:47 GMT 8
Fransisco’s Herd
Both colts were afraid of the big herd and the curiosity of the other foals. One huge chestnut foal sniffed at Delmarva and bit him savagely. Delmarva leapt behind Marsha who promptly chased away the foal, ears laid back.
A small mean looking brown mare came prancing over to Marsha bared her teeth and snarled, “That’s my foal, Marsha!”
“Should have thought as much,” Marsha said. When the brown mare had moved off and left them, she said to Delmarva, “Watch that foal, Son. It may be only as much as a week older than you, but it’s much bigger, and though it has its father’s looks, it has inherited its mother’s mean spirit.”
“What’s more,” Olio said, “Mirriandra will be trying to queen it over everyone just because she has produced a foal so like Fransisco.” Then she called out loudly to Mirriandra “What have you named your colt?”
“Bow and Arrow,” came the answer. Marsha and Olio knew that Bow and Arrow enjoyed bossing all the foals and that he was being particularly mean towards Delmarva and Stars-Sam. They kept an eye on any rough games, but realised that the foals must learn to take care of themselves, too.
Several other herds grazed in the Main Range. They saw a large herd one day when Marsha and Olio wanted to go graze away from the herd. They led the foals up Manly Horse Hill at the southern end of the Main range. As they went, they taught the foals things other horses did not know. They taught them to recognise the tracks of a dingo, whose cry was heard at nigh, to recognise wombat paths, and the narrow track of the snake in sand. Also they learnt, to recognise the scent and hoof marks of every horse in the herd, and to tell when strange horses came close. Also Delmarva was taught to leave no tracks, and how to move silently through the bush.
Delmarva became very excited over a group of tracks, and even prouder still, for recognising them as strangers as well. Marsha showed great interest over on scent and its matching hoof marks.
“That’s Brolga’s Son Carry, “she muttered, and blew through her black nostrils with excitement.
“Who’s Brolga’s Son Carry?” the foals both asked.
“He is a young grey stallion who looks similar to me, he is very strong. One day he will be the leading stallion, for he will beat Fransisco when he attains his full strength.”
They decided to graze on the southern slope of the hill, so they could overlook the stallion.
Marsha tossed her head; her black mane and forelock rustled in the breeze. The sun was warm, and it was good to be up above the valley. They could look down on all the familiar country with its gleaming creeks that ran on down until they joined together and rushed over the rocky rapids. These rapids were the start of the huge waterfall that tumbled down and down, how far, no brumby knew.
Later the four brumbies headed north. Marsha looked behind her several times, as was her usual habit, and just as evening was drawing on, she saw something that made her heart jolt.
Nose down to their tracks, following a long way behind, was Brolga’s Son Carry with several other horses – dry mares and young colts, she guessed. “Look behind Olio, we’d better go as fast as the foals can possibly go.”
They galloped off, and Marsha pushed passed into the lead, and though they could not hear any noise other than their own hooves, Olio caught a glimpse of galloping horses a short distance behind them. There was a good chance though, despite the slow foals, that their lead on Brolga’s Son Carry would allow them to reach the herd.
“Hurry!” Marsha called over her shoulder. They galloped on and on and she could hear the foals beside her blowing. Then she led them splashing through the creek and swung round some rocks and up into the narrow valley where Fransisco’s herd had spent each night for some time now. There, she raised her head and let out a high pitched neigh for help, urging the foals on.
In the gloom near the top of the valley she saw Fransisco, head up, light golden mane and tail foaming, trotting along, and looking enquiringly down the valley. She called again and he and some of the herd behind him started to gallop. Francisco had a fine head, inquisitive bold eyes, long elegant neck, deep girth, and long strong legs and he was bold, inquisitive, spirited and courageous in nature.
The two stallions advanced to within striking distance. Then there was a roar from each, and they attacked each other furiously. The herd knew that in years of fighting Fransisco had learnt every trick. Fransisco finally let him leave, as the gloom became harder to see through.
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