Lone, Ornery Wanderer

[Brise]

Tall redwoods were making their appearance known on the horizon. The instant Brise saw the tips of the trees, she changed her heading, for she knew what she would find there, or rather, whom. She had been told that there was a small herd growing in the great Redwoods of the island, and she had decided that she should be a part of it, whether the herd wanted her or not.

The noon sun shone brightly overhead, the scraggly trees bordering the redwoods less then adequate protection. She quickened her pace, shifted her brown, gold-flecked eyes to and fro, scanned for the presence of any other equines. The master of the herd, she thought to herself, had better be what she hoped. Her primary goal was to find a herd that would help protect her, keep her safe. Her second, and one she would never admit to, was the desire to have others nearby. As much as she preferred to stick to her own agenda, the thought of being alone for too long frightened the mare.

She slowed her pace, for she was nearing the taller, wider trees now. The blades of grass here were broader, more green, and overall appeared more palatable. The striped mare began searching for a source of water, any area appearing damp drawing her attention. The long trek she had made across grasslands with little protection from the sun had left her very thirsty. A small puddle of water, nearly mud, came across her eye. She ambled towards it, excited. She drank what little there was, instantly regretted it; a sizable amount of mud had gone down along with the water. She bitterly thought of the streams she had access to with her old herd. Why did things always strive to go against her? She stamped a path through piles of leaves and needles, angrily marched further into the forests.

A bird call caught her attention, drove her momentarily from her vexation. She looked at her surroundings, noticed how neatly arranged the trees seemed to be deeper into the forest. Her steps had begun to get louder, as the forest floor became thicker and thicker with detritus. This place, she thought to herself, was very peaceful. She felt safer with the trees surrounding her, much more so then the arid grasslands. Her search for the growing herd was forgotten, for the moment, as she began to examine the area. When leaves, twigs, and needles left an area bare save for grass, she ate. As she found small collections of rainwater, she drank. She looked up, searched for the birds that sang at random intervals. The striped mare found herself wandering absently, occasionally backtracking across the landscape. Perhaps, she thought, she did not need to find the new herd as soon as possible. Perhaps... she could explore this place for a while...

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Having spent the morning lazing about, Addy felt little need to fill up his afternoon with anything more. Having no predators and no rival stallion, for the moment, to combat him, the stallion spent much of his time watching grass grow and puddles dry. The recent cold weather was the only inconvenience he could ponder, and even that was not much of an interference. He would simply eat more! Gain more weight, thicken that fatty layer. He would have no problem fulfilling such a painstaking, horrific task as eating all that his heart desired.

For a few hours now, he had been doing just that. Aside the pond created previously by one Salma, he grazed lightly on the still frost-tipped grass, the sun never breeching the trees to warm them completely. Occasionally he strolled to the water’s edge, drank greedily, water dribbling from his muzzle as he moved away to devour more crisp, green tendrils. He was happy to be alone for once, the others that moved within the place having departed on their own daily musings.

Again, he returned to the water’s edge, cloven hooves sinking an inch into the soft, wet earth surrounding. It seemed to him that the water level was lowering, but he was not sure. If so, he prayed there would be good snowfall this winter to replenish the pool in the spring. His thoughts were broken at the sound of rustling nearby. Ears flickered back and forth, finally placing the being to his left and behind. Certainly not a bird nor a squirrel! Something large. But not with the familiar patterns he was used to of his comrades. Head raised from the water, swallowing the last taken gulp of water loudly. Lengthy forelock was shaken from his vision as he turned to look back in the direction of the noise. The density of the trees blocked his vision.

A huff. His body turned away from the water, strode toward the noises which continued to rustle in the distance. He doubted the being was of any threat. Within a dozen or so yards, her scent was picked up and he altered course slightly in a more direct path. A nicker was let out into the nothingness, calling for an answer, for recognition, for an explanation. This other would be wise to be ready with an explanation for themselves.

Soon, though, he could see her clearly. The bright, gaudy patterns about her coat caused her to be as obvious as she could have possibly been - even through the splotchy light and numerous trees. He was relieved by the sight of a mare and not another stallion.

Another nicker, a stomp of his hoof, head held in his usual false nobility. “Lady,” politeness issued, “are you… lost?”

end.

[Brise]

The sound issued forth by the stranger startled Brise, although she would never admit to it. She slowly turned towards the other, looked him up and down. This, she thought to herself, was not the lead stallion she was looking for. The tangled mane and tail, covered in small clusters of vegetable matter, did little to impress her of his ability to keep himself clean. She admitted to herself that she was quite unkempt on her own, but she refused to believe she could ever appear as he did. The exposed ribs, with his thin hide stretched over them, drew her attention. How was it possible for one to be so malnourished, with all this plant life about?

His words finally hit her, the mare who was much too busy judging the bizarre figure before her. She had never been referred to as a lady before. She pondered upon how she felt about it, swiftly decided she was most certainly not a lady. Lost? Of course she was lost, could he not tell? If he lived here, and had never seen her before, she was quite obviously lost.

Her eyes darted to the pool of water behind the mossy, messy horse. “Of course I'm lost. Do I look like I've any idea where I'm going?” Her eyes stayed on the water as she spoke, took a step in its direction, began to walk quickly towards it. “Aside, of course, from this water.” She had reached the waters edge, lowered her head and drank as if she would never see such a pool of water again. When she had finished, she rose up, looked back at the horse she had so rudely passed by. “Are these the redwoods? I was told there was a small herd here, growing slowly. I want a part of it.” She spoke quickly, did not seem to mind at all that water was dribbling from her lips.

She was hoping, beyond all reason, that this sickly looking horse was not a member of the herd she spoke of. She quickly established with herself that she would not enjoy his company. She had little reason as to why she decided on such behavior, but refused to change her mind, at the moment. These thoughts of him were quickly swept away, however, by the sudden twinge in her belly. At least, she thought to herself, this creature knew were the best bits of grass seemed to be. She kept her eyes on the green beast, but lowered her head, began to graze slowly, greedily plucking at the larger clumps of grass she came across.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

For a moment, no return came to his question and Aderalle began to become impatient. It annoyed him to simply be stared at as if he were an oddity whilst he was offering help. Who did this mare think she was? Wandering onto his land, wasting his time, drinking from his puddles and probably eating his food. She could leave if she was not going to cooperate and offer help in return for what she took of him.

Her answer only made him angrier than her silence had. Well then! He had figured asking would have been more polite than assuming she was hopelessly lost. He regretted not hiding and letting her wander for hours in circles among the countless identical trees. Then again, this was his home and his herd, so the job would always fall to him to deal with the weirdos that may stray into it. He said nothing to her, biting his tongue as she pushed by him in the direction of the pond. He did not even turn to watch her as she drank, just stood, mumbling to himself about the graciousness of himself.

When she spoke again, he snorted at her, too disgusted to want to answer her. Of course this was the Redwoods! Did she not see all the trees? Geeze. He ignored the fact that trees were everywhere on the island. “This is,” he told her over his shoulder. “And, there is. But you’re going to have to pull your own weight.” It was kind of a dismissive acceptance, letting her stay in the rudest way he could manage while also trying to avoid dealing with her any longer. It was easier to let her stay than to argue her into leaving. He looked away from her, began to stroll slowly into the woods, trying not to make it obvious that he was just leaving her there. He was not in the mood for this today.

end.

OOC: I am so tired today... muse is dead.

[Brise]

The haughty mare took offense to the sickly colts response; then again, she took offense to nearly everything. The idea donned on her, however, that this (much larger) horse was in fact the lead stallion. Due to this, as much as she wished to retort rudely, she refrained. She again looked at him, examined him. He did not appear like he’d be able to defend his land very well; he looked about ready to fall apart at the slightest touch!

She bent down, grazed for a moment longer. This land was something she wished to keep, to be a part of. If it meant she had to deal with this incredibly rude individual, so be it. She looked up, searched for the sickly colt. Angrily, she began to follow him further into the woods, still chewing on a mouthful of greenery. How dare he walk away from her! As she clomped closer and closer to him, she attempted to calm herself. If she wished to stay here, she’d have to at least act as though she enjoyed the company of this nameless stallion.

Nameless? She thought briefly of her interactions with other horses. Perhaps… introducing herself would lighten her… possibly rude previous actions. “I… am called Brise. I take it, then, that you are the lead stallion?”

It was rare for Brise to feel any guilt about her choice of words, the tone she carried with them, her actions. She simply believed herself to be correct, at all times, and that she was definitely more important then those around her. At times, however, she knew she must try to put her words more gently… often to get her way.

OOC: Sorry... I am apparently making short posts today. They'll be longer next time.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

A sigh. She had found him out. He should have known she would be so brilliant, that she would have figured out his ingeniously intricate plan. You know, the one where he just walks away… kind of trying to be quiet, but not really… just hoping maybe she would be distracted. Her hoof beats caught up to him, and he did nothing to evade his fate. Pace did not quicken, nor did it slow. No emotion passed over his silken, hollowed mug. Cloven hooves just pressed on into the thickness of the Redwoods, visibly undaunted. This one was as a pest that stung vehemently, albeit one that you were well aware you could not deter. As a leech that bled you in a region of your person that was unable to be reached. Aderalle did not even try. He was done with her, done with today and done with illness.

“Aderalle,” he shoved the word at her in response to her introduction. It was not rude, but sounded as if he was far off in thought at the moment. Quick, precise, airy. Her other comment was pondered a bit. Lead? Why, yes, he was! Not that it had really hit him all that hard until now. Sure, this place was his, and he was fiercely defensive of it… and, sure, there were others that lived here. But never did he really feel as if he was the lead. He protected his fellows, but felt not as though he had much influence over them. In time, if he persisted to behave goodly, the respect would come to him. He thought it a long way off. Impatience welled up within him.

“I am,” he agreed after a short moment in pause. His walk had gradually slowed to a stroll amidst his thoughts. He picked it back up again slightly as the realization came to him. “Not for long have I been… but the place does seem to draw them.” He thought aloud, only half to her, half to the sky that peered down at them between the treetops.

Eventually, his path brought him to the lightly worn trail he had been half-heartedly looking for. He said nothing, but turned onto it casually. It was something that you would likely overlook if you were not familiar with it. In his time here, many such trails had been formed by his companions as well as himself. Eventually they would hollow, fall short on foliage, open and spread into a spider’s web of interconnecting passages from one end of the Redwoods to another, to and fro, to near and to far. Navigation would certainly be easier at such a time, but Aderalle feared this fact as well as reveled in it. Little did he need strangers to understand the network within his home.

“I assume your prior herd fell to shambles?” he questioned, trying to figure out Brise’s origins. He thought it odd for a mare to wander alone without a home. It was a rare occurrence.

end.

[Brise]

The name of this horse was strange. He himself was strange. The few moments it took for him to acknowledge that he was, in fact, the lead stallion led her to believe he was unsure of himself. And why not? He quite possibly had every reason to feel that way. Brise, the crude, impolite mare, had already judged his character. He was unsure of his status as lead stallion. She was curious as to how strong the herd was, how many others had come to him.

As she walked with him, she tried her best to set aside the locations of water and food sources in her mind; if she’d be staying here, she may as well learn the layout of the land. The slight trail they were walking on led her to believe there must be numerous horses in these lands.

The sudden question asked of her threw her off from her studying of the area. She recalled when her father, the master of her herd, had died. The eventual collapse of her family unit had left her even more bitter then before. “Yes. The alpha male died, and with no other stallions to lead us we began to slowly disband. I’ve been looking for a new place to stay for a while.” She surprised herself; she was prepared to make a rude comment to this bizarre male for trespassing on her personal life, but it did not come. She shrugged it off, attributed it to the long period of loneliness she felt as she traveled.

She noticed, shortly, that she had created an awkward silence. She decided to ask a question that had been nagging at the back of her mind, “How many have you managed to bring into your little herd? I would like to meet the rest, at some point.”

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

In places, the little path they trudged upon sunk low, allowing water to gather in puddles and form a muddy slurry. Addy tried to avoid them, but did not fret if he was forced to walk straight through. The only thing that annoyed him about it was the sudden loss of footing. Some such spots were nearly dried and therefore only caked thick, sticky mud about his hooves. Other places, however, caused his hooves to sink in a few inches or slide from beneath him. If he were in prime condition, such trivial things would not have phased him. The prospect of falling down was a scary one at this point.

She spoke of her herd openly. He did not look at her or present any sympathy. The brute did not think she would accept it, anyway. “Hmm… I see,” were the only words that came, and even those were a long time in coming. A surprisingly lithe jump pulled his delicate body over a fallen redwood tree. A few stray branches sprouting from the trunk rubbed him belly, scratching it, but he said nothing. Beast just walked on, walked on. Always keeping up the status quo. Just keep going.

The silence did not phase him, but was mildly refreshing. When she squandered it, he was not annoyed, but felt slightly disappointed. “Eh…” he mumbled, “I’m not really sure who’s staying or going at this point. Everyone seems to have more than one option.” Eventually a clearing was reached, the sun coming through allowing the flood-like growth of grass to fill the void. The blades still boasted a thick glistening layer of dew. The warmth of the sun was refreshing.

end.

[Brise]

The mud Brise found herself in did little to bother her; she continued to trudge along, only momentarily grumbling about the damp conditions of the earth. She considered asking where they were headed; decided she did not care enough. As long as she had easy access to food and water, she would be just fine, she thought to herself. She allowed herself to fall behind somewhat, feeling rather awkward walking alongside the camouflaged brute.

As he jumped a fallen tree that blocked their path, Brise sped up only to walk around it. She noted his landing from his surprising jump to be somewhat awkward; further evidence for her that he was not feeling as well as he tried to make himself appear..

The uncertainty in his voice did little to reassure her of his leading abilities. She had little want to be in a herd that may only end up to be her and this Aderalle character. For one, she hardly felt safe now, knowing how few in numbers this so called “herd” was. For another reason, she felt no strong connection to this new horse, and would rather have others to associate with. As little as she wished to admit, she was at times quite lonely.

Her mind was on the perceived inadequacies of her current companion; as such, she was suddenly shocked when they had come into an area void of trees, filled with tempting grass. She quickly slowed, looked about. Perhaps… the lack of a numerous amount of horses in this herd was not that important. The sudden sight of the surrounding area had struck her in a strange manner. “I think. That I will enjoy staying here.”

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

To be honest, Aderalle had no aim in his wanderings. Today was a lazy day that drifted about on breezes of whims and bright ideas that amounted to nothing in the end. He tromped through the mud as a juvenile, rattled through scatter-brained thoughts as an idiot and goaded himself into stupidity as, well, Aderalle. She fell behind him. He hoped she would either cheer up or abandon her goal of pestering him mercilessly. She was of little use to him in her age, and would so be as a nick-nack on the mantle of his herd’s hearth. Sadly, a loud, annoying nick-nack.

As much as he despised her, he knew he needed her around. A herd only grew if it managed to pull together members. As he was, apparently, trying to create a herd, it seemed the only logical thing to do was to keep any stray anomalies that managed to wander and weave their way into his home. Eventually he might be able to find some of quality, but for now there was Brise.

A snort as she spoke, their bodies in the clearing. Of course she would. Because his land would cater to her. Crazy old bat. His green body pulled into the middle, soaking up the sunshine that spelled through the scant boughs. “Of course you will.” The words held a masked smearing of mockery. “I know I do.” His words trailed off as his head lowered to graze.

For a while he ate, until he felt that his fill had been had. Boredom struck him then. A snort, he tossed his head, shying up a bit. A walk, trot… canter. It was nice to have open space.

end.

[Brise]

Thin, mustard-yellow stripes followed the green beast into the clearing. Brise found herself walking slowly about the area, and unintentionally around Aderalle. As he spoke, she rolled her eyes. Well, of course he enjoys this place, if he chooses to live here. Furthermore, there was no need for him to talk to her in such a manner. Everything said to Brise was in danger of being claimed as an insult. She expected that any other horses in this herd would follow in their leaders mannerisms, snorted disdainfully to herself. She moved back towards what she supposed was her new leader.

The gluttonous beast had began to eat; Brise noted her remaining appetite had left her during the walk to this place. She would be living here, now, with him. Brise, again, rolled her eyes. Sarcastic thoughts of her luck flooded her mind. She paused her casual stroll. She would be living here. She had not thought too hard previously of her mother and the others she had left behind to find a new place to call home. Although she had difficulty identifying the emotion, she felt somewhat guilty. Perhaps, she should have attempted to convince them to join her. She knew it would have been impossible; the old mares were too set in their home, would merely wait for a wandering stallion to find them and rescue them. She hoped beyond reason that one had…

The mare looked about, noticed the mossy stallion had begun to run about. It was still daylight, and would remain so for a reasonable length of time. However, she felt, at the moment, quite tired. The thoughts of her old herd, along with her long trek, had made her feel old. At least, for the moment. She felt a sudden desire to leave the presence of her new leader, to find a location she felt safe at. She wished for an area with both water and food, a comfortable niche in the forest. She found herself attempting to catch up with the other, although it took her a good while to break into a canter, and briefly, a gallop. Once she was only somewhat behind him, she said, nearly yelled, “Do you know of any streams or the like? I have been thinking of finding somewhere to rest.” She was already feeling tired of moving so quickly; she did not often find any reason to do so. She found herself envying somewhat the energy of the younger horse.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Her words caught him off guard, almost made him laugh aloud. Somewhere to rest? If you need to rest, why are you running about, copying the actions of one who held energy within him to spare? It seemed contradictory, but he would not bring it up. Hoof-beats slowed, the echo of them fading into the surrounding forest, dampened into a soft, mushy ringing by the wooden barricade of a forest. He came to a stop eventually, beneath a particularly grand redwood, his green barrel huffing, expanding and contracting with each asthmatic-sounding breath. He really should refrain from such frivolities.

“The only water I’ve got,” he told her between wheezing breaths, “is the pond I found you at.” A cough. It sounded… phlegmy. More of a hack than anything. He was better, but had been stupid to have thought himself so much as well. What an idiot. His feet picked up, resumed walking at a slow, steady pace. Addy headed to the place from which they had entered the clearing, where the path would be to lead her there. “Got no creeks… nothing. Just the pond that pretty gal made.” He was only half joking about Salma being pretty. The comment was more a masked jab at the old hag before him. He hid it well, his dry sense of humor acting as the perfect façade.

Hooves slowed to a stop. She could move on if she pleased, but he was staying here. The sun felt good on his shivering hide and he felt no need to be harassed any more by this witch. A soft snort left him, muzzle tipping upward at the entrance to the path in direction.

end.

[Brise]

As the other slowed, Brise did so, much quicker. She felt done with moving about in such a manner. Apparently, so did her companion. The difficulty he appeared to be having breathing was nearly enough for her to be concerned. Nearly. She stared at him as he spoke; half believed he may collapse at any moment. She followed him, remaining a step behind for she still felt somewhat uncomfortable with his company.

When Aderalle spoke of the “pretty gal”, Brise glanced at him for just a moment, a fragment of a second. Although she would deny it, even to herself, she felt the smallest tinge of jealousy. Not to be visually appealing for the brute beside her, but merely for herself. She knew she was aging, and did not enjoy thinking about it.

The concept of a body of water being created was not foreign for her; the members of her old herd occasionally grasped hold of bizarre powers that none of them quite understood. While it was most certainly not common to be able to create an entire pond, she accepted that there must be some beings out there that had a firmer grasp on the powers they had been granted. The thought of she, herself, owning a form of control over the elements, however, was beyond her; she did not believe herself to be one of those capable.

The other stopped, as did she after continuing forward a number of steps, but still keeping Aderalle in her field of vision. The gesture she was given towards the path prompted her to make a decision: She would stay nearby the apparently magical pond, make that spot her home amongst the redwoods. Brise assumed the forest-tinted beast would be staying here. “I suppose that I will be staying nearby that pond, then.” She began to slowly walk down the path that had been indicated to her. She did little in the way of saying goodbye, merely tossed her head as she looked at Aderalle. It struck her that she should perhaps thank him for allowing him to stay. She did not feel quite privileged by his company, but still felt a showing of thanks would perhaps keep her here longer. She looked back once more, nearly yelled out, “Oh. And thanks for letting me stay.” There, she thought, perhaps that would keep him somewhat appeased.

Presently, she filled her mind with thoughts of the rest she would enjoy nearby the pond, in her new home. She would make the best of her situation, she thought, and enjoy it here.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

A grunt in agreement came as she told him of her plans. It was something he expected: to be updated and kept in contact with. It was bothersome to have her go away, but he was glad to be rid of her abrasive company, desiring someone more compatible with his own personality. He watched her go down the trail until the trees obscured her, then lowered his head to graze. The taste of the grass was not the most pleasing, and he ached in him for the arrival of spring and its rains.

Ears twitched as she called her thanks back down the path, hollering above the bluntness of the forest. He said nothing, for there was nothing to say. In addition, it was not in him to scream out “You’re welcome!!!” all through the forest. That seemed… more of an act of that colt, Probli. It would be stupid. Perhaps, though, Aderalle was just being a grump. He did not care if she was angry at him for ignoring her. It did not matter.

He simply continued to graze, feeling at peace within his sanctuary, alone. Grass sprouted up before him as he moved along, never looking up from the chosen mouthful of grass. A sneeze or a cough came here and there, a swish of the tail. He roamed a bit, but never left the clearing. This was how he spent the entire day. This was how he preferred it to be.

end.


OOC: Ending posts are harder than opening posts.