Into That Forest - By Louis Nowra Page 0,31

to if we could escape. With a scream that pierced right through me, Becky jumped up and ran. The fat man threw himself at me and held me tight. The bearded man ran round in front of Becky, his arms stretched wide, crying out Rebecca! Becky stopped in her tracks and growled at him for a moment, then she went quiet as if really puzzled. I were puzzled too. The man knew her name. How did he know that? The two stared at each other in the panting silence til he grabbed her by the hand and led her back to me.

I were still jittery and eyeing for an escape. The man said something and touched me. I tried to move away but Becky held on to me. I didn’t want eye contact with the man just in case he got angry with me. But I glanced at him and seen only a beard and hat. I caught Becky’s eye and she knew what I were thinking - let’s get out of here. I took off again, forgetting there were the other man nearby. He were fat but quick and he fell onto me, crushing me into the snow.

I s’pose they were worried that we would take any chance to run away, so we were tied to the packhorse with a rope, unable to move our hands. They had put some of their spare clothes on us. The trousers and shirt made me itch all over. I didn’t struggle when they were putting them on cos I were stunned and shocked. But as they were tying me to the horse there were something familiar ’bout the bearded man’s voice. It dawned on me that the older man whose face were hidden behind all that untamed hair were Becky’s father, Mr Carsons.

He led the packhorse we were tied to, while the fat bloke rode behind us. We headed along the ridge. Halfway down it I heard a noise in snowy scrub nearby. Mr Carsons turned in his saddle, aimed his rifle and fired into the bushes. We jumped at the sound. He shot at the bushes again and the tigers ran from their hiding place down the other side of the ridge. Me and Becky coughed and barked out to them but they had skedaddled away. Mr Carsons said something to us. Becky and I looked at each other. We had no idea what he were going on ’bout. I were so not used to hearing people talk that it sounded like nonsense. Becky seemed to have gone into herself and looked so pale that she were as white as a winter’s moon.

For three days and nights we travelled. For the first day I knew the tigers were following us. I seen them gliding through the mess of trees and shrubs. After that I seen them no more. I sniffed the air hard, as did Becky, but there were no familiar smells. They gave up on us, I s’pose. We were always tied up, whether it be on the packhorse or when we went to sleep round the campfire at night. Oh, that fire were so damn good. Sometimes Becky and I got so close to it that the men had to drag us back from it. One time I fell into it and they had to pull me kicking and screaming while they slapped me noggin cos me hair were on fire.

The other man, the fat one, were clean-faced and younger than Mr Carsons. He sang and whistled when we rode, and at night he sang songs while we ate round the fire. His name were Ernest - he told us to call him Ernie. He laughed a lot. Mr Carsons had no laughter in him. He tried to cuddle Becky many times but she struggled away and when she did that he’d cry. I reckon she were already missing the tigers’ fur and their smell. These two fellows stanked funny. It were a sort of stink like something really stale. Tigers smelt of the earth, the trees, the animals they ate and their spicy fur. These two fellas’ stink were nothing like that - it were bitter and ugly.

I’d sit with Becky and we listened to the animals and birds of the night. There were the crackling leaves that meant a quoll were passing by. There were hissing and spitting in the distance as the devils had a brawl ’bout the animal they were eating. I could hear the