Into That Forest - By Louis Nowra Page 0,27
seen a cub jump into the air and land dead still. Another shot rang out. Becky and Dave were now next to me, barking and coughing out warnings to Corinna. There were another shot just as she were ’bout to pick up the second cub by the scruff of the neck. The cub keeled over and it were dead too. Me heart were filled with screams but I couldn’t open me mouth. Another shot rang out and I seen a puff of sand near Corinna. She paused and stared at her two pups and then seen the bounty hunter marching down towards her, reloading his rifle. She couldn’t run towards us cos she knew she would have to pass right in front of the tiger man who were trying to kill her so she turned and raced into the water and swimmed away. He fired bullet after bullet at her but I could tell by the small sprays of water that the bullets were missing her. She swimmed right out and vanished into the twilight.
The tiger man looked down at the dead pups and then up towards us. I realised he must have seen me cos I were so upset that when I were warning Corinna I had stood up, clear above the scrub. He yelled out something and started to hurry up the hill towards us. We were terrified, so we ran back into the cover of the old man ferns and ran and ran on our two legs then on all fours til we were far away. He must have given up the chase, cos when we sneaked back he were gone. I could see Corinna creeping along the banks of the lake towards where her pups were. We ran down and joined her. There were nothing but some blood on the dirt and grass where the pups were shot. Corinna sniffed and sniffed, trying to pick up their scent. She sat down next to the bloodstains and remained there for hours. Near dawn she looked at us three with sad eyes and we knew it were time to go back home. And I also knew, through a kind of instinct and not me mind, that this had happened to her before. That’s why she looked after us when she found Becky and me, cos her pups had been killed - probably killed by this same bounty hunter. Now she had no pups again. Only Becky and me were left.
On the way back I felt heavy with some darkness that were filling me mind just as the wallaby had filled me belly. Back in the lair Becky and I cried. Tigers don’t cry, but they know sadness, they know emptiness, and both Dave and Corinna were empty except for sadness. Their eyes were glazed with sorrow; there is no other word for it. I’d say they were grief-stricken and so were me and Becky.
Corinna spent days, maybe weeks in the den. She grew thinner, even though her mate brought her food. Then one day she come hunting with us, and even though she didn’t have much strength and gave up the chase after a quoll - which are devils to hunt cos they’re so shy and quick - it were a sign she were getting better. We were closer than ever before, not only because of what happened to the pups, but because Becky and me were now like tigers too. Becky’s language were fading, while all mine were gone. There were no reason to remember English any more. Words were no use to us when we were talking to the tigers, it were much easier to use our own language of grunts, growls, yawns, snuffles, coughing, looking, staring, so much so that if I’d mention the tigers to Becky, I’d call them ‘Da’ and ‘Cor’ - it were enough to understand who I were talking about. Me parents, well, they just slowly slipped out of me mind. They were like dreams, not real people.
One afternoon after we left the lair and were thinking about what direction to take to hunt, Dave rose up on his back legs to peer over some tall grass and daisy bushes and seen something that made his tail wag back and forth so quick like I had not seen before. I followed his gaze and seen another tiger moving towards Corinna who were standing there in the open just watching this tiger coming closer and closer. Dave began hissing like a snake