Through the leaves, he could now see Kurt out in the clearing, studying the bush with the fierce, clear-eyed focus of a predator. He was in a red coat, easy to see, and Leon was thankful that his khaki uniform provided some camouflage. He inhaled and held still. Kurt was scanning for minutiae; one small sound or movement would give him away.

The drizzle was changing to rain: intermittent fat droplets splashing on leaves. Leon knew the downpour was coming. When Kurt started striding downhill, he moved too, slipping from the thicket and weaving through trees, ducking under tree ferns, past the tipped-up end of a fallen tree whose buttressed roots made a wall he could hide behind.

Working his way across the contour, he came to a gully where myrtle grew shady and dark. It was boggy, and he slithered down a steep slope to step through a stream, soaking his boots in black mud. The other bank was strewn with debris, and he stumbled across it. His foot punched through a rotten log, caught in a crack—and he fell, slopping into the mud and twisting his leg.

Something gave way in his knee, a sharp pain, and it took him a while to kick free. He imagined Kurt creeping towards him and aiming the gun. Then he heard a noise nearby: Kurt just across the gully, coming downhill.

Leon burrowed through ferns, releasing a shower of spores onto his head. His leg wouldn’t support his weight properly, but he hobbled on—if he couldn’t run, he was done. Hiding behind ferns, he waited to let Kurt pass, alert to the sound of footsteps crunching through undergrowth, flashes of red coat only twenty metres away, the long shaft of the rifle, the grim set of Kurt’s mouth. Leon froze and held his breath.

When Kurt had gone past, he moved on again, weaving downhill. Tall trees gave way to rainforest where it was softer and quieter: myrtle and ferns, sticky expanses of mud. Moisture made everything slick, and he skidded on a log and slammed to the ground, winded. As he tried to drag in air, his head was enveloped in dangerous lightness. If he fainted now, Kurt would shoot him and leave him to rot. No one would find him.

He forced himself up on astronaut’s legs, unhinged from gravity. Then he saw Kurt again and lowered himself slowly into the mud. Kurt had crossed the gully and was stalking uphill, scanning as he went. Leon lay along a log, then thought twice about being caught and the difficulty of getting up to run. But Kurt was so close it was risky to move.