The Bunyip Collection

Chapter 9

When the family found Pyran and Tristram, they were talking peacefully with Fred beside the stream. When questioned later, the children were reticent about their morning.

Saffi and Jase were monumentally relieved and overjoyed to find them safe. They asked repeatedly about the bunyip.

“There was nothing there after all, was there Tris?” Pyran answered quickly.

“No.” Tristram answered flatly.

“I was watchin’ dem from dat hill over dere.” Fred interjected languidly. “Dey were good fellas…dey were careful an’ respectful of dat place.”

A conspiratory look was exchanged between Pyran and Fred, but Tristram was expressionless.

“So, what have you been doing?” Holly asked coolly. “You scared your brother and sister half to death.”

“Not to mention the worry Holly and I – and Hester and Karl and your grandparents have been through.” Russell added angrily.

“We’re sorry.” Pyran said simply and dejectedly.

Tristram remained silent and melancholy.

Something about their defeated faces troubled the adults, and their anger seemed to melt away. Even Hester, who was usually quick with reprimand, felt unable to yell at Pyran.

“What happened to you this morning?” She asked tenderly.

“Dey had a bit of a fright, dat’s all.” Fred answered for them. “It’s me own fault really, for tellin’ dem stories last night. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. But da boys are alright, now.”

“Ah well.” Stewart drawled. “All’s well that ends well, I reckon. We’ve had a good little trip away, and I don’t think we need to spoil it now. I reckon we should head back, have some breakfast and be on our way.”

As they all wandered back to camp, Stewart relished the smell of the forest and the sunlight, whilst Mary silently said her good-byes to the twittering birdlife. Hester, Karl and Warrick looked forward to the creature comforts of civilisation. Holly felt obliged to be entertaining because Fred walked with them, and Russell helped her out by interjecting with playful witticisms.

Intriguingly, Pyran joked and played with Saffi and Jase. His was a soul that accepted a cycle of punishment, and he had learned to relish the period of relief in between.

Tristram trudged morosely along with them. He had thrown the colour of his life away. The forest was now merely the grey corridors leading to the gallows of the rest of his life.

In a swirling moment of chatter, Fred placed a hand on Tristram’s shoulder.

“Remember what I said, matey.” He whispered warmly. “Ya behaved like a true warrior today…an’ like all true warriors, ya mourn for the sacrifices dat ya made…but listen, little brother…” He waited for Tristram to look into his deep, smiling eyes. “Ya see da sunlight through da trees? It’s all yours, mate. Never stop lookin’. Can ya smell da gum leaves? Mmm. Never stop smellin’. And do ya hear dat all around ya? It’s da voices of ya family, unna? Still got dem, brother. Never stop listenin’.”

With that he gave Tristram a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and left him to reflect.

The hidden valleys and clearings of the forest were haunted by the bunyip long after the family had left the evergreen high country. Few other people camped in the monster’s territory, and those who flew over the hilly landscape never noticed the animal as it stalked through the bush. Even the locally famous pilot Ben Buckley, whose eyes were keen and whose ancestor had seen the bunyip, never glimpsed the animal. We rarely see that which we are not looking for.

The bunyip floated in thought for days after its encounter with the boy. The cold clear water, which flowed from a myriad of underground caves, animated its thick shaggy fur as it cruised slowly though shafts of sunlight. Its wide eyes were totally absorbed by a bright azure opal in the centre of its massive paw.

It was a universe of experience and sensation.