Even Splints tires eventually. There’s barely any traffic now, so it must be late, just the regular rumble of trains and their hoots as they speed through the station. We pass under the train bridge and stand on the bottom side of the hill to watch as they speed above us, rumbling snakes with glowing bellies full of empty seats.

We end up at Yarraville Gardens. They’ve replaced the plants I took. Splinter flops in the wood chips near the sandpit and I swing, my back to the road, watching the lights of the docks shimmy through the trees. The cold air passes through my shoes as I swing up—hang—and down. It pushes through my socks, making my toes tingle, desperate to stretch.

The swings squeak rhythmically, a daytime sound in the dark, punctuating the random bangs and beeps from the docks. My fingers hurt on the cold chains. I bite my lips, they’re numb, and I skid the swing to a stop. It’s time to go home.

Splinter pounces on a stick as we walk toward the main road. I pull it out of his mouth and throw it ahead. He bounces after it, his front legs wide like an unco puppy. He snorts it back to me, weaving in tight circles around my legs, turning his head so I have to tackle him to get it back. I throw it again and he’s off like a mad thing and then he’s racing back, snorting like a pig and prancing like a pony as he twists himself round my legs and ducks out of reach. I lunge at him and he skitters away, shaking his stick, making me laugh. I chase him, the movement warming me up.

We burst out of the park entrance and onto the footpath. The orange of the streetlights filters through the giant branches of the overhanging trees, throwing broken shadows across our faces. Splints shakes his stick at me, and I launch myself at him, hands outstretched. He skips out of reach, eyes on me as he bounces over the grass of the nature strip. I lunge again, laughing, but he sidesteps me neatly into the gutter.

“Off the road, Splints.” I go to grab his collar, using my game’s over voice, but he snorts and pulls the stick out of reach, jumping further away from me. Something massive looms, rushing shadows into a bang-splitting screech, blowing cold air on my face, pulling the darkness into a hissing metallic howl.

I blink.

I lock my gaze back to Splints. He’s not there, but there’s a soft gray shape bowling across the road into a crumple in the gutter.