‘Another time. Too bloody cold today. It’ll be blowing a gale up there.’ Terry led the way along a short boardwalk to a large shelter for tourists. Inside, he showed Leon the walking-intentions book. ‘When you’re on duty, you have to check this book to make sure no one’s missing. Inexperienced idiots go hiking in a white-out and they don’t stick to the trail. Then it’s up to us to find them—full-scale search and rescue. Some of them walk in T-shirts and thongs. It’s a shame we have to save fools.’

Leon had helped with search and rescue on Bruny Island too. Sometimes they found those who went missing. Other times it was a mystery. One young woman had hiked up Fluted Cape and never come back; a week of searching and they’d concluded she must have fallen from the cliffs. Leon didn’t like to think of her crashing onto the rock platforms below. He’d spent his childhood exploring those cliffs; lost his virginity up there with a girl staying at the caravan park over summer; fed the white wallabies that grazed the grassy area at the bottom of the trail. That place was part of who he was. Maybe this place would become part of him too.

After they had cleaned the loos and restocked the toilet paper, Terry was ready to head back to the office. ‘No point hanging round in weather like this,’ he said. ‘Nobody here except us, and we don’t have any say in the matter.’

They were spinning through the forest back towards town when Leon saw the dog on the road: a red heeler with swinging teats. It had to be Rosie from next door. He called to Terry to stop. ‘Hey, I know that dog. She lives next door to me. We should take her back home.’

As Terry pulled over, Leon noticed Rosie had a gash in her side. He wondered how she’d ended up here by herself. Had she run off, or had she fallen from the back of Shane’s ute? He remembered her growling at him back home and wasn’t sure if she would try to bite him, but he couldn’t just leave her here—the wound was dripping with blood.

He spoke to her quietly as he approached. She was panting, probably in pain. ‘Got a rope in the car?’ he asked Terry. ‘Something I can loop round her neck.’

Terry tossed out a length of cord that Leon hooked around Rosie’s collar. She was compliant—maybe she sensed he was trying to help. He coaxed her to the LandCruiser and encouraged her onto the back seat. She tried to leap but winced, so Leon wrapped his arms around her and lifted her in. He felt those dangly teats against his skin, the wetness of the wound. So much for his new uniform—his hands and clothes were covered in blood.