Brandy barked and ran away from her. Barked again and ran back to whine and fidget and nudge her hand with his nose.

Sal realised then that Max must be in trouble, and that the dog had heard her calling and come to her for help. She yanked on the spare boots she’d slung on the floor and grabbed the two water-bags and the powerful torch.

The dog whined and yipped and ran in circles as she scrambled to find the first-aid box in the mess on the back shelf and then slammed the door. ‘Good boy, Brandy,’ she murmured. ‘Take me to Max.’

He rushed off and Sal tried to follow as quickly as she could over the rough ground and entangled tree roots and vines. The bright beam from the torch lit up the forest which should have been silent at this time of evening, but was alive with bird calls and the rustle and crash of fleeing animals. The fire had to be getting closer, for now she could smell the smoke.

She reckoned she’d been fighting her way through the bush for over an hour when Brandy came back, waited for her to catch up and was off again. ‘Wait,’ she shouted. ‘Brandy, come back here.’

‘Sal? Sal, what the hell are you doing here?’

Her heart thudded with relief, but his voice had sounded weak. ‘Looking for you,’ she shouted back. ‘Where are you?’

As he kept calling to her, she followed the sound of his voice and pushed her way through the hampering branches, ferns and lantana that seemed determined to keep her from him.

As the torchlight revealed the two tethered ponies, Brandy appeared suddenly and barked once before disappearing down what looked like a sharp slope.

‘I’m coming, Max,’ she called as she shone the beam down and found that he was sitting awkwardly on the stony riverbed, his belongings scattered about him, his face covered in blood.

She slithered down the steep incline and, in her haste, almost went tumbling before she managed to break her fall by grabbing hold of a tree root. She found a foothold and carefully eased the rest of the way down, all too aware that it would do no one any good if she injured herself as well.

‘I told you to go home,’ he scolded.

‘Well, it’s a good thing I don’t listen, then, isn’t it?’ she retorted as she handed him one of the water-bags and used her handkerchief to wipe away the blood so she could see where it was coming from.