Eliza put her hand on his to stop him. ‘The less people here, the better: if Georgia truly saw someone, whoever it was has managed to avoid the searchers all this time. That means we’ll have to be quiet. Plus . . . I mean, if he’s . . . what Georgia saw —’

‘This isn’t something we can go rogue on, Miss Ellis.’

‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ she said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. ‘Look, don’t you want to be the one who finds the Hungry Man? For your sister, Rose?’

It was low, and she hated herself for saying it, but it had the desired effect. Darren hesitated, emotions in conflict on his face.

‘What could we possibly hope to find up there?’ The lines in his face were hard. ‘You’re putting me in a difficult position.’

‘Who knows what we might find,’ said Eliza. ‘Clues, maybe? Evidence. Answers.’

Darren watched her, suspicion plain on his face. ‘Alright. Let’s go.’

As they stepped off the track and walked towards the ridge, Eliza heard Tom’s voice in her head. Leaving a trail in the Great Western Tiers is an exercise in suicide. Do not attempt it. He’d given the whole camping group that speech before they left school.

But surely it wouldn’t be so bad. This area was a little more open than most, and they had that grove of white gums to orient themselves by.

But she should’ve known it wouldn’t be so easy. What looked like low shrubs from the rise of the trail were in fact bushes that reached up to her shoulders, even over her head in some places. Underneath them, the ground was craggy and uneven and full of inexplicable swampy patches.

‘Let’s stop here a moment,’ said Darren after ten minutes. Even though it was fairly flat land, it was tough hiking. They were among copperleaf snowberry, a plant that was found only in Tasmania. It had dark green, serrated leaves and clusters of little white flowers shaped like urns. It was starkly beautiful, smelling wild and free, flowering and perfect out here in the wild.

‘Close your eyes and turn around three times,’ said Darren.

‘What?’ said Eliza.

‘I want to show you something.’

Eliza closed her eyes and turned, then opened them when she heard the crash of Darren through the shrub. She leaped back, the sharp leaves drawing a thin line of blood from the back of her hands.

Darren was standing behind her now. ‘What are you doing?’ she said.

‘I want you to point back to the trail. I moved so you wouldn’t have a reference point. Point back to where we came from.’

Eliza pointed.

Darren shook his head. ‘Wrong. Try again.’

Eliza hesitated, then pointed forty-five degrees from her first attempt.

‘Wrong again. Now you’re dead. Lost in the wilderness. And we’re what: ten minutes from the trail?