and
check the buildings, but every scary movie she'd ever
watched taught her that sticking together was the best
option.
'My friend is hurt,' she called out.
Nothing.
Suddenly she saw a movement. She shone the torch
and saw two lamplight eyes shining at the edge of the
clearing. She gasped and hunkered down over her
knees. Her heart thudded. 'What's that?' she whispered
quickly, like a whoosh – wassat? Then the eyes
were gone and she could hear a steady crash, crash,
crash as the thing made its way back into the scrub.
'Roo,' groaned Lindsey. As soon as she said it
Shelby recognised the rhythmic thump of the
kangaroo's tail hitting the ground. She'd heard it the
first time she came here, and many other times when
she'd ridden in the Gully.
Shelby put her hand to her chest and could feel her
heart beating. She squatted down on the log and
rested the torch on her knees for a moment. It rolled
down towards her hips. As it turned over she saw
something else – a flash of white. Shelby prickled all
over with goose bumps. She snatched the torch up
again and pointed where she'd seen the white. It was
just Blue's rump. She held the light on him and then
she saw something else move – not far away, but definitely
separate. 'Who's there?' she called out. Her
voice sounded thin and reedy.
Silence.
And then, 'maa', the sheep sound she'd heard
earlier. It was much closer this time. It made her jump
and let out a surprised yelp. She ran the torch along
Blue's shape and then in front of him. Not a sheep – a
white goat, happily munching away next to Blue.
They both looked up at her.
'There's a goat,' she told Lindsey in a low voice.
Lindsey shifted on the cushion and then moaned.
She opened her eyes for a moment. 'I'd ah . . .' Then
she closed them again.
Lindsey must have been familiar with this place.
She knew the path. Did she know the person who
lived here? Were they friends? Had she come here to
warn Shelby to keep away, or to rescue her?
Shelby focused the torch on the two animals again.
As she watched, the horse and the goat gazed at each
other, and then touched noses, as though they were
the best of friends.
'Lindsey, who's Ida?' Shelby asked.
Lindsey didn't answer.
20 Prowler
Shelby stood with her back to the fire, shining the
torch around in an arc. It wasn't cold, but the air was
moist as the dew settled. Her clothes were still damp,
especially around the hems. As the heat from the fire
dried them, she could smell the muddy, swampy odour
all around her, mixing in with the horse sweat and
dirty leather smell that she always carried after a day
of riding.
I stink , she thought.
She imagined a long hot shower with the water
coming out of the shower rose fast so that it hit the
back of her neck and shoulders like little pins. Then
she dreamed of sitting on the lounge with her feet
tucked up, her pyjamas soft and fresh with laundry
detergent and sunshine, and her hair still damp, clean
and smooth with her favourite green apple conditioner.
Apples . . . She felt like eating a big serving of one
of those Sara Lee apple strudels, baked so it was really
crisp, brown and flaky on the top – almost burned –
but so hot in the middle that it steamed, even on your
spoon and mixed with vanilla ice-cream and cold
custard. Her mouth watered. She could almost taste
the cinnamon.
Or perhaps she would like a really sweet, fluffy
sponge cake with thick passionfruit icing and cream
and jam in the middle? She imagined the smell that
wafts out of a bakery early in the morning – hot,
sweet grain. It smelt like a hug.
She shined the torch on the goat again, frowning.
Someone must own it, and that person must be somewhere
nearby. Shelby was willing to entertain the idea
that the mystery person was a she. Ida could be a
shaman, or priestess – like Rafiki in The Lion King ,
except a woman.
The cushions may not have been for Lindsey at all.
Perhaps it was the Rafiki woman's bed? Maybe she
had gone off somewhere and would come
check the buildings, but every scary movie she'd ever
watched taught her that sticking together was the best
option.
'My friend is hurt,' she called out.
Nothing.
Suddenly she saw a movement. She shone the torch
and saw two lamplight eyes shining at the edge of the
clearing. She gasped and hunkered down over her
knees. Her heart thudded. 'What's that?' she whispered
quickly, like a whoosh – wassat? Then the eyes
were gone and she could hear a steady crash, crash,
crash as the thing made its way back into the scrub.
'Roo,' groaned Lindsey. As soon as she said it
Shelby recognised the rhythmic thump of the
kangaroo's tail hitting the ground. She'd heard it the
first time she came here, and many other times when
she'd ridden in the Gully.
Shelby put her hand to her chest and could feel her
heart beating. She squatted down on the log and
rested the torch on her knees for a moment. It rolled
down towards her hips. As it turned over she saw
something else – a flash of white. Shelby prickled all
over with goose bumps. She snatched the torch up
again and pointed where she'd seen the white. It was
just Blue's rump. She held the light on him and then
she saw something else move – not far away, but definitely
separate. 'Who's there?' she called out. Her
voice sounded thin and reedy.
Silence.
And then, 'maa', the sheep sound she'd heard
earlier. It was much closer this time. It made her jump
and let out a surprised yelp. She ran the torch along
Blue's shape and then in front of him. Not a sheep – a
white goat, happily munching away next to Blue.
They both looked up at her.
'There's a goat,' she told Lindsey in a low voice.
Lindsey shifted on the cushion and then moaned.
She opened her eyes for a moment. 'I'd ah . . .' Then
she closed them again.
Lindsey must have been familiar with this place.
She knew the path. Did she know the person who
lived here? Were they friends? Had she come here to
warn Shelby to keep away, or to rescue her?
Shelby focused the torch on the two animals again.
As she watched, the horse and the goat gazed at each
other, and then touched noses, as though they were
the best of friends.
'Lindsey, who's Ida?' Shelby asked.
Lindsey didn't answer.
20 Prowler
Shelby stood with her back to the fire, shining the
torch around in an arc. It wasn't cold, but the air was
moist as the dew settled. Her clothes were still damp,
especially around the hems. As the heat from the fire
dried them, she could smell the muddy, swampy odour
all around her, mixing in with the horse sweat and
dirty leather smell that she always carried after a day
of riding.
I stink , she thought.
She imagined a long hot shower with the water
coming out of the shower rose fast so that it hit the
back of her neck and shoulders like little pins. Then
she dreamed of sitting on the lounge with her feet
tucked up, her pyjamas soft and fresh with laundry
detergent and sunshine, and her hair still damp, clean
and smooth with her favourite green apple conditioner.
Apples . . . She felt like eating a big serving of one
of those Sara Lee apple strudels, baked so it was really
crisp, brown and flaky on the top – almost burned –
but so hot in the middle that it steamed, even on your
spoon and mixed with vanilla ice-cream and cold
custard. Her mouth watered. She could almost taste
the cinnamon.
Or perhaps she would like a really sweet, fluffy
sponge cake with thick passionfruit icing and cream
and jam in the middle? She imagined the smell that
wafts out of a bakery early in the morning – hot,
sweet grain. It smelt like a hug.
She shined the torch on the goat again, frowning.
Someone must own it, and that person must be somewhere
nearby. Shelby was willing to entertain the idea
that the mystery person was a she. Ida could be a
shaman, or priestess – like Rafiki in The Lion King ,
except a woman.
The cushions may not have been for Lindsey at all.
Perhaps it was the Rafiki woman's bed? Maybe she
had gone off somewhere and would come
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