I travelled to Woolnorth and, though lost in duty, my mind wandered. At the brow of the settlement’s hill I gazed across the landscape, searching for my tiger. The tigers ranged over many miles when they took to the coastal runs, but I did not see any.
The water ran deep and green where it met the shore and carried itself twinkling over the rock pools. I heard the calls of the honeyeaters – they kept at work, stripping the dry bark from the eucalypts and fetching out the insects beneath. I heard the currawongs, too, and looked to see their black wings soaring above the foothill slopes. I took in the full view of the station, the valleys, the canopies, and the tracks beaten hard by the heavy treading of the flocks. But I saw no tiger.
The wise beast rested during the day to hunt in darkne
