The track led towards a distant, mist-shrouded mountain. Ahead, light broke through the clouds in shafts, casting shadows on the land, and it was beautiful. They crossed tea-brown streams trickling over lichen-patched rocks. Up high, the slopes were needled with granite and the stunted shapes of wind-scoured trees. The track began to descend and then a lake appeared out of the mist: a silvery eye with zephyrs of wind ruffling its slate-grey surface.

‘Wild, isn’t it?’ Leon said and she nodded. ‘I love the cold air and the views,’ he went on. ‘When I look out, I see patterns of light and dark, colours in the scrub, places where the soil changes. It’s like a story written into the rocks.’

Miki tried to see what he saw. When she looked closely, there were shadows and creases in the land, dimples and folds, shades of brown, grey and green. She thought how the land was made of many things: forest and heath, mountains and streams, plains, lakes, clouds, sky. The land had layers. Like people. Like trees. Every element complemented the others, and every element was different. She liked how things came together to make a whole. A landscape. A country. A world. Everything was here.

Leon picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the steely surface of the water. ‘This lake was carved out by a glacier millions of years ago,’ he said. ‘I like to think of everything covered in ice. Rocks being worn smooth. How old it all is.’ He chuckled as if laughing at himself. ‘It gives me perspective when the going gets tough. Sometimes I need that. I suppose we all do.’

Miki hadn’t thought about Leon’s life being difficult. But perhaps he was like her.

She remembered the little prince travelling the universe only to discover that what he had always needed were his home and the rose. Belonging and friends. Maybe it was the same for everyone. Only the details were different.

When they returned to the car, Miki sat in silence while Leon drove to the end of the road. It was windy in the car park: air gusting against the windows and rocking the car, clouds scudding overhead, the heath thrashing.

No one else was about.

‘This is it,’ Leon said. ‘My office!’ He grabbed a black garbage bag from the back seat and slid out of the car.

Miki opened her door into the wind. ‘Should I bring the paint?’

‘I have to do rubbish duty first. You can stay here if you want.’

She didn’t want to wait behind, so she followed him to a large picnic shelter not far from the car park. Beer cans, bottles and other rubbish were scattered over the floor.

‘Someone had a party and forgot to clean up,’ Leon said.