Walking the dog is her daily solitary pleasure. They find new trails and track wallaby prints through the mud, trees creaking around them. The dog, nose to the ground, snuffling his way. She, eyes on the path and the mountains in the distance, inhaling crisp winter air.
As they walk her mind wanders, remembers the ghost stories they tell on walking tours. The violence of the land she takes for granted. Sometimes, she feels the weight of that dark exiled past, hanging lifeless from the branches.
A loud crack in the distance causes the dog to stop.
He growls.
As they walk her mind wanders, remembers the ghost stories they tell on walking tours. The violence of the land she takes for granted. Sometimes, she feels the weight of that dark exiled past, hanging lifeless from the branches.
A loud crack in the distance causes the dog to stop.
He growls.
