His nostrils flared

A rush came through the settlement of the wildlings that surround the mountains.
A beast of pure grace and prowess, a creature that is seen in days gone past.
This delight that still runs wild, this magnificence that will awe the smallest of child.

Dust came to rest. Still. A brook, water to quench a well-earned thirst.
A gentle breeze rustles the autumn leaves, the falling, a sound unusual heightens watchful ears.

Alert, the world is in response, a sense of smoke filters through nostrils.
Blistering heat, still far off. What of this nature's unrelenting defiance to regenerate, brush a decay.
Bring forth new life, to continue the artistry of the Australian bush/

Run to freedom, find the highlands, rejoin the herd, follow that fleeting bird. The fire will rest, the bush will survive the test.
All will resettle for this Brumby to run free and rejoin this freedom, where the clang of the bell-bird is heard.