Post by Corowa on Mar 17, 2008 23:06:10 GMT
The chestnut brumby mare picked her way carefully down the steep hill. Slithering and sliding down the icy slope, Koorine shook with fear. Here the steep gully gave way to a belt of alpine ash and black sallee, thick shrub at the roots of the trees and the country grew rougher. Here kangaroo grass was found only in odd tussocks, and below, the Crackenback River snaked its way through this narrow basin of granite rock and rugged tors.
Men had come to the high country. Koorine had smelt the smoke of their fires, seen their tame horses and knew that she was a hunted thing. Fading into the cover of the trees, the mare grazed, knowing that ahead, a hard winter waited for the creatures of the bush. Here at least there was shelter from the buffeting winds, and men did not venture so far from their hut at Dead Horse Gap.