The rangers, her father had said, would arrive at Heuningbos sometime after lunch. She’d brush her teeth and dash to the lapa to make coffee. Food, she thought, ignoring the rumble of her stomach, would be unnecessary since she wouldn’t be hiking today. Also, she’d have to eat this evening with her father and his friends on watch.

The coals were almost ready for the small pot of water she’d prepared when Clare heard footsteps splashing across the lawn and thumping up the lapa stairs. She expected to see a ranger, but it was Faye. Puffing heavily, she ran under cover, pushed the hood off her head and dumped her daypack on the table.

“My God! I’m wet through,” she said, wiping the water from her face.

Clare peered into the haze behind her, expecting the others to follow.

“No, just me,” said Faye, shaking the water from her limbs. “What a downpour! I could barely see my hand in front of my face. You should see the stream. It’s really flooding now.”

“What happened?”

Faye didn’t look at her. “I . . . I decided to turn back.”

“Because of the rain?”

“No. It hadn’t started raining yet. I . . . uh . . . thought I’d come and wait with you.”

Clare felt herself grow warm. There it was, the uninvited concern. Her dad had wanted to stay with her. Derek had offered, too. But she’d insisted they go. It was bad enough being the youngster on the hike. Not to mention the one with “the problem.” She didn’t want to be babysat. Could she have made herself any clearer?

She held the pot up to Faye. “I was about to make coffee. Would you like some?”

“Love some. Thanks. Your migraine has gone then?”

“Yes. It has. Thank you,” she said. “I’ll get more water.”

“Let me go. You stay dry,” said Faye, pulling the hood over her head and taking the container to the outside tap.

She returned, dripping once more, and placed the pot on the fire. “I’m going to the cabin to change. The rangers won’t want me in their car like this.”

“Sure.” Clare pushed the coals around the pot with a piece of firewood. “A warning, though. When I woke up, it was already raining and some of the bags got wet. I hope yours wasn’t among them.”

Faye wrinkled her nose and ran back into the rain.

Clare thought about Faye’s description of the stream. If it was already flooded, there was a good chance the other rivers were, too. She pictured the two they’d crossed on the trail the previous day and wondered if the track the rangers had to follow to get to them would traverse the same rivers. Given the route, it made sense. What if the flooding made it impossible for them to reach Heuningbos? Or if the dirt track was washed so badly it became impassable?