‘Sorry,’ I say, gently adjusting the bandage. Slowly his eyes swim into focus.

I see the moment when he sees me properly; he does a little jolt and his black eyes fill with that dangerous, frightened gleam again. My heart starts to thud. I shuffle away from him fast, grabbing the spear.

‘Hello,’ I say, trying to keep my voice level. ‘Hello! I’m Charlie, I’m trying to help you, remember?’

He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

I try again. ‘It’s me … Cholliemurrum.’

His gaze clears. He touches his head, where my wonky blue bandage is. ‘You make this, Cholliemurrum?’ I can’t tell if he’s happy or cross about my homemade bandage.

‘Um … Yes …’ I say hesitantly, hoping it’s the right answer and it won’t make him go all bananas again.

‘Good,’ he says, like he’s marking me for my skills or something.

‘Thanks,’ I say, almost giggling, but he’s so serious I don’t dare.

Lightning. A sudden flash; I only see it out of the corner of my eye, almost like it was never there at all. Nervously, I look up at the cloud-heavy sky and I listen. The wind is rising. I hear the low growl of thunder.

The boy’s eyes widen as he too stares skywards. ‘Ssstorrmm voys,’ he whispers.

‘Storm voice,’ I whisper back, understanding.

Another flash and the first fat drops of rain start to fall.

TRUST ME

A gust of wind whirls up, lifting my hair, blowing the river back upon itself, swaying the treetops. Three crows flap untidily past, flying away from the storm. Lightning.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Fi—

Thunder. The storm is less than five kilometres away.

‘Sstorm close,’ says the boy, crouching now, watching the sky.

The rain is getting heavier. We can’t be out here in the open when the storm hits us properly – we’ll get struck by lightning; we need to shelter. I look across the river at the black open mouth of Deadman’s Cave.

I hesitate. Should we? My mum and Lamont’s mum have banned us from going into Deadman’s Cave. Beaky said it was because there was a hermit living in there who didn’t want to be disturbed by a bunch of kids. Lamont said it was more likely because Shim Carter and his mates all hung out in the cave drinking cider and breaking bottles and listening to music really loud.

The sky darkens ominously. Deadman’s Cave will be perfect.

‘Look, listen, I know a place we can be safe. A cave.’

‘Kaaayfff?’ says the boy, shaking his head. ‘What kaaayff?’

I point across the river. ‘That cave, over there.’

The boy looks from me to where I’m pointing and back to me again.

‘No, Cholliemurrum,’ he says, getting himself to his feet, more carefully this time. Dad’s shirt falls on to the sand. ‘I find Mothga.’ He folds his arms stubbornly across his chest. ‘No kaaayff!’

‘Yes cave! This is a bad place to be in a storm. You can find Mothga later. Come with me. Trust me.’