Into That Forest - By Louis Nowra Page 0,59

waiting for them til the last moment when it were too late and the last thing the victim seen were the gleaming eyes and jaws that opened so wide that to the prey it must have seemed they would be swallowed whole. Oh, it felt good to see a fresh dead animal. We’d all be panting with effort and Becky and I would be smiling with pride cos we had helped in the kill. And then, I make no apology for this, there were the taste of the blood or bloody meat and it were like the first time I tasted seal gristle and my nerves tingled cos the blood and meat were so fresh that it were like we were tasting life even though the prey were just dead. And I knew that the owl felt the same thing after killing a mouse or quoll. I knew that the Tasmanian devils - which were easy to hear of a night cos of their spitting, hissing and snarling - didn’t feel the joyful surge like us girls and the tigers, cos they ate putrid dead animals. That’s why I didn’t like the devils - they always feasted on death and didn’t have the nous to hunt down prey like we did. I could smell when they were afeared cos they stink, but when they’re not afeared they smell like lanolin. An animal afeared is a dreadful thing cos their whole body is scared, even their blood is afeared. Even now, I can’t help it, but the squeals of an animal being killed is something that makes me blood run hot on hearing the sounds and me flesh shiver with anticipation. Me flesh wins over me heart.

There were something else going on in the night as we headed towards the lake and that were a different sound, like a heavy animal circling our camp, snapping twigs and heavy of footsteps. The first night I heard this creature I knew not what it were, but the second night, I thought it were Becky. Maybe it were, maybe it were not, but Mr Carsons woke and grabbed his rifle. He asked me if it were Becky that were making the noises. I said I didn’t know. He asked if it were tigers. I said I didn’t know cos the wind were blowing the wrong way and I couldn’t smell them. Ernie were awake and he said something that stayed with me. He said to Mr Carsons, Just what do you intend to do with Rebecca when you find her? Mr Carsons did not answer. I noticed he had his finger on the trigger ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

By the time we were ready to ride out, a mist were moving through the ferns and trees like it were a creature smothering everything, so that we could barely see a couple of yards in front of us, but that didn’t stop Mr Carsons, cos he were on his mission. It were the sort of mist that soaked into your flesh, into your being, so it were like you were one with it and it made me keenly aware of the smells of the earth, the ferns, flowers, shit, and all sounds were clear and sharp so I could not only hear the breathing of the horses but even feel the heartbeat of the horse I were on. In such a heavy mist you can hear a currawong stretch its wings and a rat scurry across damp leaves. I also smelt something the mist carried - a tiger’s scent.

We rode closely together so we wouldn’t lose each other and Mr Carsons must have noticed me sniffing the mist cos he asked what I were smelling. And I told him. I said I smelt a tiger, a female one. We must be getting close, he said and then fell into his dark silence again til in late afternoon when the mist drained away and birds began to cry and screech again and he got Ernie to set up the phonograph.

It were strange to hear me voice echoing through the valley and to hear me singing, Hurrah, my boys, we’re homeward bound. ‘We’re homeward bound,’ you’ve heard us say, ‘Goodbye, fareyewell, Goodbye, fareyewell.’ Hook on the cat then, and rut her away. I thought to meself - just what will Becky think when she hears it? Will she recognise me voice? Will she know it’s me?

Mr Carsons were in a funny mood, funny peculiar, and