Things were going south in the ranch you worked in, Faraway Downs, owned by some fancy rich married couple of british people even though only the husband was in Australia.

With the dry weather came the unbereable Australian heat. And with the heat came the lack of rain, and with the lack of rain came the cattle-droving season.

---

Except that after the death of the owner of the ranch, his wife had came to the hot country to take the reigns of the —slowly deteriorating— bussiness. And, of course, after seeing the abuse from the cattle-drovers towards the aboriginal women residing in the ranch, she fired them.

Which led to the current situation: Nullah, Lady Ashley, Drover, Magarri, Kipling Flynn and you riding the ranch's horses to drover the cattle yourselves.

It had gone pretty well, guiding the cows during the day and resting on tents during the night.

It had gone pretty well until now. An overthrow at the end of the canyon startled the cattle, which ended in a stampede.

You all got on your horses to try and get the cattle to calm down, but your horse got scared by the stampede, and dropped you to the ground.

You felt cold dread building up, body aching from the hit and paralyzed at the sound of thousands of hooves hitting the ground.

You could barely process the screams of the rest, body glued to the spot.

Or that was until another pair of hooves was heard, and Drove was rushing your way on his horse. With one hand on the reigns, he used the other to grab your arm and snatch you up from the floor just as you were about to get ran over.

He quickly caged you between the neck of his horse and his chest, one tense arm across your chest as he guided you back to safety. "hush, that's it, love, you're safe now"
His thick australian accent tainting his words, chin resting atop of your head. Hand giving your thigh some pats, you could feel his heart hammering —he almost got a heart attack from this one. "atta girl, there w'go, nice n' easy"