I tumble out of the car, trying to find a way to tuck the torch in so I can have my hands free to use the bat. My hairband turns into a handy tie that wraps the torch up in my shirt. Picking the bat up, I swing it a few times to get a feel for it, then stop stalling.

Walking through bush is an everyday thing for me, it should feel natural, like home. But the coolness of those trees enfolds me and I am reminded that this place isn’t home. It’s taboo. And I am going to break that today.

Shivering, I move up the mountain. I ignore the insanity of following directions from a dream. I climb for a good fifteen minutes, looking for easier paths the entire time but finding none, when I realise I’m being followed. Soft little scrapes, the odd rustle. At first I think it’s rock wallabies, maybe snakes, heading in the other direction when they realise I’m close. But the sounds always come from behind me. My steps pick up the same pace as my heartbeat.

I feel it up ahead. A heaviness pressing on me, a warning to turn back. The trees are leaning in, grabbing at my clothes, trying to tell me what I already know. This is no place I want to go. Want to and need to are very different things.

No thoughts are allowed to come except those that point me towards Laney. I won’t turn back, I won’t let her down and I will get us both out. The noises following me are keeping pace. If it was Mum or Uncle they’d have yelled at me to stop. It’s daylight, it can’t be them. I don’t want to know what’s back there.

Two boulders loom ahead, and above them I can see the entrance to a cave. My instincts scream and I know I’ve found her. Climbing up isn’t that hard with this one, there are spots between the boulders like steps. They are far shorter than a normal human would need. I pause at the entry, switching on my torchlight and readjusting everything. Deep breath in and out, I grip the bat with both hands and raise it. Breath in and out. I step into the dark.

The hair on my gunu-gunu is on end, goosebumps bloom everywhere on my skin, every warning instinct I have is screaming for me to run. A damp, musty smell fills my nose, reminding me of unwashed fur and earth. I force my breaths to stay slow as I move sideways, bat at the ready.