Sliding faster and faster, [O]

[Corowa]

Yangoora stood in a sheltering clump of snowgums, his bay coat black with sweat and nostrils wide. A brolga flew low over the timbered ridges of the Suggan Buggan Range, and the colt stilled, tensing all over at its loud, trumpeting call. Yangoora stirred nervously, suddenly sure something bad was happening, for from further up the steep ridge, there was surely something moving along that long ridge top, where the great alpine ash grew.

Throwing up his head, the colt looked worriedly towards the spur rising sharply above him, the precipitous overhang of granite that merged with this rough slope of snowgrass. Yangoora stood perfectly still, hide prickling with the feeling of being watched. Then he melted back into the snowgums, remembering that furious chestnut stallion and the terrible sound of his screams.

Yangoora turned and hurried down through a scrubby belt of snowgums. There was a sudden sound from somewhere behind him, and the colt leapt forwards at a gallop. A snowgum branch whipped his head and stung his eyes. Then he was hurtling headlong down the ever steepening slope, sliding faster and faster so he couldn’t gather his legs beneath himself, could do nothing but gallop on and on down towards the gully floor.

It seemed to go on forever, and then suddenly he had reached a particularly thick belt of timber that went right to the top of the steep gully wall. The colt could go no further, and he pulled up on his haunches. Breathless and trembling, Yangoora stood with ears pricked, every muscle tense beneath a sweaty bay hide. A kurrawong called once then fell silent, so it seemed to mock the bay colt for his foolishness.