As abruptly as the conversation had begun, it was over. Kurt turned his back, and when the chips were ready, he slapped the package on the counter. Leon paid up and left.

On the way to the forest, he noticed the weather changing. Heavy grey clouds were congealing, and wind was tossing the trees. He would have to unload the signs quickly.

He drove through the logged area and on past the eagles’ nest to the big tree. The track wasn’t as overgrown as the first time he’d come here; someone had cut back the bush to make access easier—maybe the men who’d dropped off the timber for the boardwalk.

Beside a pile of treated-pine poles, Leon parked and got out. The weather was worsening. Trees and shrubs waved wildly around him. Leaves whipped, bark slapped, and the canopy was flailing. He hoped nothing would fall. Days like this you could imagine being crushed under a tree.

He lowered the tailgate and tried to haul the signs off the trailer, but they were too heavy, so he climbed onto the tray and lifted them one at a time. By the time he’d unloaded, he was sweating. Recent rain had softened the ground, and his boots dug in the mud as he leaned back to pull the signs off the track into the scrub.

The track was too narrow for him to turn the car and trailer around, so he unhitched the trailer and pushed it back to a rough grassy track, then swung it to face the right direction. He was about to vault into the Toyota and re-hitch the trailer when he noticed footprints on the trail—not his own. They were heading along the track, deeper into the bush, and he paused to inspect them, wondering who’d been there. Maybe the men who’d dropped off the poles. But it seemed strange that delivery men would bother with a walk in the forest, unless they knew of something worth seeing.

Leon’s curiosity got the better of him. He followed the boot prints along the track for a few minutes, until they disappeared. Looking around, he noticed bark flapping against a nearby tree trunk, the clouds sinking lower. Rain was coming, and he’d left his coat in the car—perhaps he should head back.

On the cusp of retracing his steps, he saw another boot print: man-sized and deep. It was beside a decaying old stump and seemed to lead onto a faint trail into the bush. He decided to check it out. It wouldn’t take long. The trail was vague, maybe an animal pad.