I don't own these characters any more than you do! Elyne Mitchell wrote the book and John Tatoulis made the movie. I just love the idea of the wild bumby that would rather be dead than be captured... My story starts where the movie ended.
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He was named after the wind that blew on the night he was born. There was something different in the wind that night and his life was as the wind. Thowra's birth was heralded by a spring storm and a wild wind that swept over the high country. As a stallion he was hunted by man and challenged by rivals. Some say he died some say he left off a cliff to escape a man that had hounded his hoof beats, some say he never existed.
The truth of the story is not so far from the tales. When the men who bring their cattle to the high country to graze in the summer sit around a campfire and tell their stories of the silver ghost horse, they need only listen. If men could stop talking and listen they would hear his whinny on the breeze and his hoof tread resound of the hills. If you listen, really quiet yourself and listen, you'll hear him.
An Australian brumby is no match for a fit thoroughbred when it comes to speed or endurance. However that is the only advantage that the man's horses have. The brumby horses know their country and know how to use the bush to hide and to escape. The brumby horses are fearless and proud. It is said that once tamed they are the best horses to work stock from but it is better to get a brumby from already domestic stock for a wild brumby is exactly that, wild! Strong willed, stubborn and always drawn to the call of the wind, not the wind itself but something on the wind.
Thowra lived through his battles with the man on the black horse. He reclaimed Golden, his prise mare, and roamed the high country. The man never recovered, he was tortured day and night by his memory and the sound on the wind. He only returned to the high country for one more season and then never again. His place was taken by a younger drover in his early 20s who brought the cattle and horses to the high country. He stayed in the older man's hut and there was joined by his wife. This was rather a novelty among both the other drovers and the locals as drover typically were single or left their wives back on the plains with their children. Still both man and wife were very capable drovers and stock handlers and here the story of the silver brumby continues...
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It was still early in the spring, the September sun had just begun to thaw the icy ground. It had not been a particularly hard winter. It had only snowed for a few weeks and it was not heavy enough to bother the cascade brumby herds that usually at this time of year would have had to compete for available feed. The breezes blew lightly as if as indifferent to the weather as the horses.
Thowra relaxed and shook his head there was nothing to get excited about. Now in his prime the son of Yarraman was the unchallenged stallion of the high country, king of the cascade brumbies. Thowra completely oblivious to the legend he had become among the stockman and drovers never strayed with his herd. Many of the mares were heavy with foal and within the month the herd would be full of playful fillies and colts.
Golden's yearling Kunama had survived her first winter and grew stronger. Her coat, the colour of a newly minted gold coin and her pale mane and tail made her stand out from the other mares. She defiantly resembled her father not only in looks but also in temperament. She was an adventurous filly who wandered away from Golden and often got stuck, lost or in many other various forms of trouble that the Australian bush affords. Golden, being a runaway from domestic stock, lacked the instinct and education to teach her daughter about life and survival in the bush.
Thowra watched the hills waiting for mans return. Thowra waited for the bark of the dogs, the smell of smoke and the lowing of cattle. He knew the dangers that would come and threaten his herd but for himself adding to his herd from domestic stock was a challenge he relished. He had stolen Golden from right under the mans nose and came away victorious. Since there was no stallion in the high country that could match him he waited and watched to see what the spring would bring.
He didn't have to wait long. Ben, a young drover and his wife Kelly arrived in the early spring while there was still the fresh chills in the air. They brought their cattle, their dogs and their pack horses. He was a pleasant looking man in his twenties with soft auburn hair and brown eyes. If he was taller than six foot it was only just but he was the kind of guy you would instantly like, genuine, funny and very amiable. He wife was thin and pretty. Kelly was thin and very pretty. She had long straight black hair and dark brown eyes. She was a horse trainer by trade and had joined her husband in the high country to see the landscape for herself. She was cool, business like and always calm.
They set themselves up very early in the season in the dovers hut and settled in for the summer. Throwa stood not far off and saw them arrive with a coutious hope that these new faces would be less trouble for his herd and he galloped back into the snow gums to return to his herd.
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