The ewe lay on the ground, her legs tucked underneath her, looking stunned. Zara straddled her and grabbed a handful of wool on either side of her body and tried to get her to stand. Slowly, she managed to get her steady on her hind legs before helping her up on the front ones. The ewe stood there quivering before realising that underneath her feet wasn’t slush and mud and that she had traction. With a couple of wobbly steps, she moved away from Zara and then started to run with an unsteady gait, over the top of the dam bank and into the gathering darkness.

‘And stay away,’ Zara called to the disappearing animal.

‘Quick, let’s get the rest out, otherwise it’ll be dark before we’ve finished,’ Lynda called.

Turning around, Zara grabbed the tin and laid it out across the mud to the next ewe. They repeated the actions twice, and when the last ewe had finally been safely guided away from the empty dam, the women looked at each other and held up their hands in a high five.

‘Good job,’ Lynda said. ‘You haven’t lost your touch.’ She was silent for a moment and Zara could hear in her mind the question that was coming. ‘You don’t think you could …’ Lynda broke off. ‘Sorry, love, I shouldn’t ask that. I don’t want to put any pressure on you.’

Zara was silent for a moment as she tipped her head back and looked up at the stars beginning to shine in the inky blackness. The air was cool on her skin and just for a moment she imagined what it would be like living at Rowberry Glen—in the same house as her mother and working the same piece of land that had been in their family for generations. Could she do it? Did she want to do it? Then, she remembered the adrenalin rush from the newsroom as the deadline for print drew closer, and she sighed. ‘It’s a beautiful night,’ Zara observed, not acknowledging what her mum had said. Maybe all that was better left alone while emotions were running high.

‘Yeah, it is.’ Lynda leaned against the side of the ute and looked up. ‘I’ll fence this dam off tomorrow. So the rest of the mob can’t get in and cause any more grief.’

‘Is there a trough in this paddock?’ Zara asked. ‘How will they get water?’

‘Over near the gate is a trough. I’ll have to mob them up and shift them there so they know there’s water in it. That way they’ll stay away from the dam but know where they can get a drink. I think sheep just see the dam embankments and assume there’s water. It depends on what they’re used to drinking from.’

‘What’s the long-range forecast saying? Is there any rain due?’