The Winds of Edenvale

The Winds of Edenvale: The coastal winds of Edenvale had always been wild, but on this October afternoon in 1957, they carried something darker than salt spray and the promise of rain. Margaret McAllister—Maggie to everyone who mattered, pulled her woollen cardigan tighter as she guided her mare, Bonnie, along the clifftop track that bordered the family farm. The wind whipped her auburn hair from its careful pins, sending strands dancing across her face like copper threads against the pewter sky. Below them, the Southern Ocean crashed against the towering limestone cliffs of Victoria's western coast with a violence that made Bonnie's ears flick nervously. This stretch of coastline between Port Campbell and the Surf Coast was renowned for its raw beauty and treacherous moods, the same qualities that had drawn her great-grandfather from the Scottish Highlands nearly seventy years ago. The mare had never liked storms, and this one was building with the kind of intensity that made old-timers in town shake their heads and mutter about cursed weather. "Easy, girl," Maggie murmured, her voice barely audible above the wind. She patted Bonnie's neck, feeling the tremor of unease that ran through the animal's powerful frame. Perhaps they should have stayed closer to the homestead today, but the restlessness that had been growing in her chest for weeks now demanded movement, demanded the wild freedom of the clifftop ride that had been her sanctuary since childhood.