'He was beautiful, and he was hers . . . given for ever by the river . . . Yarralala, the foal of the flood.'
Burra knows this foal will bring trouble. It cannot be Coolawyn's foal - none of the herd has seen a snow-white foal with such strange red eyes before. Who is he really? Why is it now that the drumming hooves of galloping horses are heard in the deepest dark of night?
In the beating storms of winter, a mare cries out in desperation . . . a stallion calls, searching . . .
All the mystery and magic woven through the Snowy Mountains, home of the silver brumbies, is to be found in this story. Distant legends tell of horses running with the moonlight. For Burra, Coolawyn and Yarralala, the ghostly shadows are becoming real . . .
