I rested my head back on the seat and rubbed at my knees. I looked over at the city kids, in their brand-name clothes, happy to be going back to their creature comforts.

I peered back out the window, at the dried-up mine, becoming smaller and smaller as we flew away.

Jacob saw too. I know he did. His gaze had followed mine. The other boys gathered around Chris, who was passing out drinks from a cooler in the chopper. Grateful hands patted his back.

Jacob refused his drink. We just stared at each other knowingly.

It was me who looked away first, to study my weeping knuckle where I had tried to light the flint.

Perhaps this would be my last camp. Things had certainly changed since I lived on the island all those years ago.

There had always been water back then, there at the old tin mine. Always.

HONEY

‘So, Nathan, what is the Aboriginal word for honey?’ asked Sharkey, as he swung the ute into a sharp right-hand turn.

Nathan looked left out of his open window, into the steep ravine known as the Elephant Pass. A ghostly afternoon mist clung to the ferns and trees that lined the gorge. He could feel his hair dampening from the cool air coming through the window.

‘Not sure,’ he replied, absently.

‘Well, you’re Aboriginal, aren’t ya? You should know,’ said Sharkey.

‘Yeah, well … I’m sure there is a word for honey, but—’

‘Thought ya were going to find out for us. Wanna use the name on me label. Be a good gimmick for selling the honey, I reckon. ’Specially with the tourists.’

‘Yeah, probably,’ said Nathan. ‘I’ll look into it.’

‘That’d be good. And cheers for giving us a hand moving the hives. Really need to get them on to the prickly box, now the kunzea has finished flowering.’

‘Yeah, no worries.’

Nathan looked over at Sharkey and met his gaze. Sharkey liked to make eye contact when they talked in the car. Nathan thought it was a bad habit but obliged him anyway.

‘Ya know what, Nath? I was serious when I said I’d give ya the ute if ya keep helping me out like this. I reckon you’ve just about earned it by now.’

‘Cheers, man,’ said Nathan.

They hit an intersection at the base of the pass, and Sharkey turned right onto the coast highway. The ocean appeared and disappeared as the undulating road wound its way through farms and forests. They pulled into a concealed driveway, overgrown with drooping she-oaks.

‘Hives are just in there,’ said Sharkey, pointing into the bush. ‘Might want to suit up.’

Both men got out of the vehicle. Sharkey reached into a black fish bin on the tray and scruffed two wrinkled plastic bags. He threw one to Nathan. ‘This should fit you.’