“Um . . .” Geoffrey adjusted his cap as if it might clarify his thinking. “No, don’t. She’d prefer it open. Leave it open.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Faye.

She knew it wasn’t, but also anticipated his response. Wasn’t this what people do? Express their concern in times of uncertainty, as if doing so might exempt them from blame if things go wrong?

He fiddled with his cap again. “She insists. The tablets knock her out. She’ll sleep and, by the time the rangers arrive, she’ll have more or less recovered. You’ll see. She’ll be herself by the time we see her this evening.”

“But—”

“Come on, you two,” shouted Derek. “Let’s get going!”

Geoffrey gave Faye the kind of placating smile one gives children when the ice-cream shop turns out to be closed after you’ve promised them a treat, and turned to join the others. She shouldered her backpack and followed, glancing heavenwards again.

Gone were the patches of blue that had dotted the sky earlier. The green of the vegetation popped, vivid against the metal grey of the clouds, and the mountains seemed taller as if rising to meet them. This time the view reminded Faye of the childishly exaggerated proportions and colours of Zach’s primary school drawings.

As she neared the group, she heard Bev’s voice. “We’ve all packed rain jackets, I hope?”

There was murmured confirmation. Derek said nothing as he strode ahead towards the small wooden bridge. Already trailing, Faye paused as she crossed, leaning lightly on the rail and looking down onto the stream. She and Bev had been there the previous afternoon. They’d wanted to swim but changed their minds when they saw how small the brook was. Now though, the water was flowing strongly, swirling between the boulders, pooling in a large, dark pond and lapping hungrily at the banks. Clearly, rain had fallen somewhere in the catchment area. Faye pictured the map, trying to recall whether the stream fed into the Bloukrans River, which could make crossing it difficult in a few hours. She couldn’t remember and looked up, wanting to ask one of the others. Or say something, at least. But the group had moved on.

A steep, lung-burning hill led them away from the water. Eventually the trail spilled onto a plateau that stretched into nothingness to the north until it met the mountains. Less than a hundred metres to the south, the earth fell away abruptly into a deep gorge. Carved by the elements over millennia, the ravine culminated in the snaking, watery chasm that was the Bloukrans River.