She ignored the dog’s racket and smiled as she drank in the sight that always restored her. The trees surrounding the wide clearing were tall and slender, their silvery trunks reaching for the light beyond the bush canopy and the rocky outcrop that soared skyward. The craggy sides of this outcrop were almost hidden by the giant ferns and clinging lantanas nourished by the trickle of water that had once been a torrent – splashing over the black rocks and racing down to a narrow stream which fed the river that ran through the bush. The long drought had depleted the fall and the stream, and Sal suspected the river was no more than a dry shale bed.

She drove slowly into the clearing towards the log cabin where a rusting utility was parked by the woodpile, and a pair of shaggy, hobbled ponies eyed her with suspicion. Switching off the engine, she grabbed her overnight bag and clambered down, already reaching for the sugar lumps she’d stowed in her pocket.

The ponies whickered with pleasure as they recognised her and, as she stroked their soft noses and gave them the sugar lumps, the cabin door opened and a large red setter came tearing towards her, his furious barking turning into fawning yips and whines as he licked her hands and rolled over to have his tummy rubbed.

Sal obliged, but her attention was soon diverted from Brandy to the man who’d emerged from the cabin and was quietly watching her from the veranda.

He was of indeterminate age, with long, silver-streaked brown hair, deep-set hazel eyes and the weathered skin of someone who lived mostly out of doors. Dressed in dark brown moleskins, khaki shirt and scuffed tan boots, it was as if he was hewn from the colours and textures of his surroundings. He said nothing as he leaned heavily on the gnarled walking stick, his gaze fixed angrily on her swollen eye and bandaged cheek. But that gaze warmed as he looked into her eyes, and there was welcome in the soft curving of his lips.

‘Hello, Max,’ she said, the joy of seeing him making her voice unsteady.

‘Welcome home, Sal,’ he replied in his deep, musical voice as he opened his arms to her.

‘It’s good to be back,’ she sighed as she moved into his familiar embrace, her undamaged cheek pressed against his chest, the drum of his heart soothing and restoring her. She had fallen in love with him the moment they’d met, but she had never told him – Max was a solitary man and would shy away from such strong emotional entanglements.

He kept his arms about her and rested his chin on her head. ‘Then stay a while and keep me company,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘You look like you need a refuge, and I’ve missed you.’