Forest Secrets by David Laing Page A

way, we probably won’t even see them.’
    â€˜Yeah, maybe.’
    â€˜The trouble with you, Snook Kelly, is that you’re getting to be real stubborn. You should have asked Gloria to stay with you back there, but you were too pig headed. Too proud. So, we’re going to the lagoon whether you like it or not.’
    Walking side by side down the grassy bank, I could feel Snook staring at me. ‘You know, you’re not the same old Jars that I knew three years ago. You were quiet then. You’re kinda bossy now.’
    â€˜What?’ I said, thinking that Snook’s remarks were kind of sudden, out of the blue so to speak. But in a way I supposed he was right – when I first came down from the Northern Territory to live with the Kellys, I was a bit wimpy. But as I grew older and got used to my new surrounds, I guess I became more confident, more positive – especially around people. Anyway, not really knowing how to reply to Snook, I just handed him the empty bucket. ‘We’re here,’ I said. ‘Here, you fill it. I’ll make the tea when we get back.’
    â€˜Okay,’ he said, grabbing it by the handle. He then stepped out onto a flat stone and leaned over one of the deeper pools to scoop some water. Something made him stop. He straightened and rubbed his eyes. Taking a step backwards, he asked, ‘Do you see what I see?’
    I followed Snook’s line of sight. ‘Yes, I think so. That Blowhard fellow’s building a new fireplace – right next to the one that’s already there. It looks like he’s gone and collected his own wood too. Why would he do that, I wonder? It sure seems silly.’
    With the empty water bucket dangling from one hand, Snook scratched his head with the other. ‘It’s more than silly; it’s crazy. He must be cracked.’
    I had to agree with him. It looked like Blowhard was building a bigger and better fireplace than the one provided, just because he could.
    Snook shook his head. ‘What an idiot. He has been actin’ like a complete fool ever since we first saw him in Sam’s shop. I just hope he knows what he’s doing with that fire though.’
    I hoped so too. The fireplaces were put there by the local council for a purpose – to keep the place looking nice for its visitors and to keep the fires contained and safe. Even the wood was supplied – to stop people hacking into the surrounding trees at random.
    Having finally collected the water, we were about to head back to our camp when we saw something else. In the distance.
    It was a person, walking beside the river towards the lagoon and he was dressed in khaki pants, braces and a peaked cap.
    The rhotosaurus inched his way down the mountain path to the bottom of the gorge. He looked behind. The others were following.
    After what seemed like ages, he reached the bottom of the gorge. Already, relishing the coolness of the water that awaited, he took the few steps to the river where he stood, letting the fast flowing stream swirl and cascade over his aching limbs. It was a welcome relief from the heat and wind that he could still hear raging from above.
    He sniffed the air. Mixed in with the sour, acrid smell drifting down from the plains was something else. It was the sweet, airy scent of still water, a new sensation that brought up buried pictures from somewhere in the back of his head – of his safe place where he saw himself sprawling in its still pool, drinking from its depths. He stepped out of the river and onto the bank. He could be there soon, to the pool, to where he could ease the burning pain in his body, where he could be safe.
    Standing on the bank, the rhotosaurus shook his head as though clearing his thoughts. Then, his mind made up, he started to run. Soon, his twenty- tonne body was pounding forward, swaying, brushing against boulders, and dodging fallen rubble, flattening any shrubs in its path. Then he