I wonder if Mum’s watching me too. She would not approve of the crazy situation I’ve got myself into here. Even though I’m positive she wouldn’t approve of my father either—she and Melody have been part of huge protests to save forests and they, unlike my father, truly love nature and all its creatures. But I can imagine her telling me to go back, that what I’m doing is crazy, and that I’ve overreacted.

‘If there’s anything I learnt, it’s that people aren’t perfect,’ Ted says.

‘My father’s a long way from that.’

‘Hun. Even if he’s a good-for-nothing criminal like my old man was, who does nothing but gamble, drink and curse, you know what? Most everyone has love in their hearts even if they’re a little broken. And that’s where we gotta start. Just sharing the love.’

‘I guess,’ I say.

We listen to corny country music for a long while, and I focus on the words, my mind blank.

Suddenly, Ted puts on the indicators and veers the truck off the highway, snapping my attention back to my present situation.

Where is he taking me? How did I get myself into this mess?

I bring up my father’s number on my phone and hover my finger over the call button.

All my muscles tighten as I stare out the window. Even my toes are clenched.

‘Been driving this damn truck nonstop for hours. Need a hot coffee, if that’s okay with you?’ Ted says.

I see the glow of a neon sign and allow myself to take a breath. It makes sense. Long-distance driver. Coffee. He’s not pulling the truck into the forest to attack me. Phew doesn’t quite express my relief.

We pass the gas station and pull up behind Jo’s Truck Stop. ‘Go on inside,’ Ted says, yanking on the handbrake. ‘I’ll be there in a minute. Save a donut for me.’

Donuts. Makes me think of a few days ago when my father, despite me insisting he didn’t need to, drove across the city to find me a vegan one. He didn’t succeed, so instead we ended up in the only organic cafe in town where they had a suitable fudge brownie. He bought me three.

What a contradiction—a hunter looking for vegan food. And why would he care about me, when he’s clearly an uncaring person? You can’t watch a fawn’s mother die knowing you caused it horrible pain, and still be caring.

I jump out of the truck, my boots hitting the snow with a thud. With Ted’s beanie still pulled over my ears, I run into the truck stop.

I stomp my boots free of snow in the doorway and rub my nose—which has turned into an ice statue in the ten seconds I was outdoors—back to life.