Ned sat, hoping the night chill and forest quiet would cool his thoughts. But soon he was disturbed. A harsh growl rang through the bush, a call of animal fury. More followed—deeper, guttural snarls, as well as high-ringing yowls of despair, sounds of fleshy terror. In the cacophony Ned could discern rage, indignation, pain and, most prominently, an anguished message of insatiable hunger. These night-screams bled into his ears. He could no longer hear the water.

He knew what these noises were. The devils had made a kill—or, more likely, stolen one from a quoll—and were fighting over the flesh. He’d heard screams like these many times, and was familiar with the horror the ravenous beasts inflicted upon each other as they fed. But every other time he’d heard devils in the night he’d had company—his father, his brothers, Jackbird. Never before had he sat in cold darkness, far from home, and listened to the bush’s orchestra of terror in such detail.

It was this moment, as he felt again the liquid dread of unseen monsters, that brought him back to the night of the mad whale. The sensation was so similar to that boat trip, brought about by similar circumstances: an evening of demons, the potential for carnage. He shivered, realising he was cold. The forest’s chill had never been a problem by the fire with the other men, but here by the stream it had stripped all the heat off his skin.

He’d shivered at the river mouth too. The wind had been harsh, ocean-cold, and he recalled how at one point he’d curled himself into the folds of a thick woollen jacket. It hadn’t been his, he was sure of that—he hadn’t owned a coat until he was a teenager. And it hadn’t been his father’s—that would have been far too large. It must have belonged to Toby or Bill. Ned couldn’t recollect which of them had given it to him. It made sense, for a variety of reasons, for it to have been Toby, although he was just as likely to have teased Ned for showing weakness.

But Toby had been sitting on the other side of the boat to Ned, with their father between them. Ned had huddled next to Bill as they waited for the whale’s judgement. Surely Bill hadn’t lent Ned his coat? Ned could barely remember his eldest brother ever talking to him. Yet he remembered the warmth of the wool.

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