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farmer was three paddocks away but approaching quickly; then dropping to his knees for another shot.
    ‘The mad bastard means to kill us.’
    ‘He’s a distance off. He won’t be able to get us from there.’
    ‘Then he’ll kill us by accident.’ A third shot rang out.
    ‘Come on, let’s go.’ Dougal led the charge to the hills and Colin followed close behind. It would have ended just like that, if the farmer hadn’t let off a fourth shot. It took the stuck sheep, square between the eyes, and lowered it instantly. Dougal, seeing what had happened, changed course.
    ‘Come on, grab an end, we’ll take it with us.’
    ‘You’re crazy. He’ll catch us.’
    ‘We’ve got a handy lead.’
    ‘He’ll set the dogs on us.’
    But as Colin was fast learning, arguing with Dougal didn’t change things. Already he had one end of the dead animal draped across his shoulders and was crouched over, waiting for Colin to take his share. They stumbled back into the bush with the dead weight draped about them like some grotesque scarf. Colin could feel the warmth of its recent life against him. The wet stickiness of blood ran down his neck and the living juices of its stomach sloshed about with every step. They ran hard, or as hard as was possible, and apart from two more shots overhead, they heard no more from the farmer.

FIVE
Bush
    ‘ W HAT are you doing?’ Dougal asked.
    ‘I’m cold.’
    ‘That won’t warm you.’
    ‘The wool’s warm.’
    They had been staggering through the bush for over an hour and it was exhaustion, rather than a feeling of safety, that had made them stop. The sheep, heavy enough to start with, had increased its burden with every step and now lay stretched out on the ground beneath a punga. Colin lay beside it, hugging the dead body closely.
    ‘You look sick like that.’
    ‘I don’t care how I look. You should have got us coats. Why didn’t you bring coats with you?’
    ‘I was in a hurry.’
    Dougal, sitting with his knees to his chest and his arms tight around himself, looked no better prepared for the change in the weather. Bare feet, same as Colin, grey trousers that might once have been thick, and a cotton shirt, too big for him with nothing to say to the cold.
    ‘That’s right. I forgot. The fire.’
    ‘I never said there was a fire.’
    ‘Not everything needs saying. Are we staying here?’
    ‘Why should I have to decide everything? What am I, your mother?’ Dougal asked.
    ‘All right. We’ll stay,’ Colin replied.
    ‘He might still be following.’
    ‘We’d have heard him.’
    ‘Not if he went slowly.’
    ‘If he went slowly he will have lost us.’
    ‘He might have the dog with him. We’d be easy enough to track, with that bleeding thing.’
    ‘It’s not bleeding any more. Look.’
    Colin pushed his finger into the bullet hole, as far as the first knuckle. A blob of congealed blood squeezed out and formed a dark ring in the surrounding wool.
    ‘You feel the brain?’
    ‘No. Probably they’re quite small.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Well they’re stupid aren’t they?’
    ‘That one was,’ Dougal laughed.
    ‘Just standing there while he shot at us. You can eat brains you know. They’re quite good.’
    ‘I bet you never have.’
    ‘I have too.’
    ‘Eat this one then.’
    ‘I’d have to be hungry’
    ‘I’m hungry, so are you.’
    ‘You eat it then.’
    ‘Rather eat the meat. Shall we cut some off, start a fire? Youhave matches right?’ asked Colin.
    ‘Course I’ve got matches. I’m not sure we’ve gone far enough for a fire though. They might see us.’
    ‘It was just one sheep. He’s not going to chase us all day for it.’
    ‘Maybe he was very close to it, same as you are,’ Dougal teased.
    ‘Already told you. I’m cold.’
    There was silence then, and a look on Dougal’s face like he was deciding whether to say something more.
    ‘There’s other people too, who might be looking for us.’
    ‘What people?’
    ‘Doesn’t matter. We just have