After making absolutely positive Bart had the car keys, Solway left. There had been no particular ceremony in it, or passionate goodbyes – she’d just gone. It was a bit of a let down, in Bart’s opinion. He’d checked on her departing figure a couple of times as she’d walked off along the track, but somewhere between the rise and fall of hillocks he’d not even known were there, she disappeared.

‘Well, I can’t stand around here all day waiting for her to come back,’ he thought, although that’s exactly what he had in mind. ‘I’ll clean up, I suppose.’

He did the dishes, pulled everything out of the back of the Landy, repacked it again (and much better, he thought – he’d always been told his spatial awareness was off the charts), then unpacked it all again when he realised he couldn’t get to the things he wanted as easily as he thought he could. It seemed practicality was a part of packing for camping. Who knew?

Well, he did. Now.

Bart checked his watch. Great. Only an hour had passed. Pulling out the little winding mechanism on the side, he gave it several turns, and tapped the glass for good measure. How would Solway fare when her own digital watch ran out of battery?

Christ, he was being dramatic again.

‘Nobody cares, Bart,’ he said to the trees, then sat down heavily in his camp chair and stared at his boots. ‘Nobody cares.’

God he felt bored.

Maybe he should go back down to the creek again and have a real good squizzy at it? Maybe he could get some mood shots in black and white from his phone? Ooh! Maybe he could do micro shots or whatever it was they were called, and get real closeups of some of the different flora and fauna around the place. He looked around. Not that there was really much to take any good shots of, unless you really liked wattle leaves.Maybe there was something a little more interesting the way Solway had walked?

Bart stood up. He’d just got an idea. Maybe, like those old explorer types did, he could follow the creek a little way, see if it turned anything into like the landscape he’d seen where that (even now he didn’t want to say it was an eye, but it was, goddammit) eye was, and get some photos down there. Then, at least, when Solway came back, she could get some video, or make his photos into video, or something, and they could do stuff with it, and post it on his channel, and maybe, just maybe, someone might find it interesting enough to tell someone else, and maybe they might just get somewhere for a change.

First of all, though, he might just grab himself a cup of tea.

And, maybe, a little piece of chocky.

~~~~~~,~’~~~~~.~’~~80>

She’d finally reached the bend. How long had that taken? An hour and a half? It hadn’t looked that far on the map. Solway adjusted the straps on her backpack. Her legs were getting one hell of a workout in this soft sand. It would be nice to be able to walk on the hump between the ruts in the track, but there could be snakes, so it wasn’t a risk she was prepared to take.

Sunscreen had begun to get in her eyes. It stung. She pulled her cap down lower. One foot in front of the other. It’s the only way she’d be getting anywhere.

______________o_______________

He’d decided against the chocolate. He’d made himself a nice cup of tea and cupped the metal mug in his hands as he sat quietly in the shade, the brim of his floppy hat drawn low. On the other side of the track, past the harsh line of sunlight reflecting off the sand, colour flickered next to a sapling. It was a perfect shade of electric blue. The tiny bird bounced from one less-than-exciting leaf to another, little head cocked on one side. It seemed to be looking for something. A slow smile formed on Bart’s face as three more little birds popped out of the bushes. They were varying shades of brown and seemed to be quite friendly with the first one. Each of them darted off in slightly different directions, like a little gang of pickpockets. He grinned. 

‘Cheeky little bastards,’ he said softly.

The first bird, so tiny that if it were in Bart’s hand he’d be able to cup his fingers over it without even touching its feathers, looked over at him inquiringly. It didn’t seem in the least bit afraid. Bart supposed it was because the little man had three girlfriends. Tough little chicks, he thought, then smiled to himself. 

I could make this into a movie.

In the movie, the male bird, a fairy wren if he remembered correctly, would be riding an electric blue motorbike, and the three females would be strutting around threatening people with… Hmmm. Bart stroked his beard. They’d be threatening people with tiny caterpillars that squirted green gunk when you squeezed them.

I should write this down.

He frowned. I should be taking photos, that’s what I should be doing. Fuck.

He stood up, the camp chair collapsed and just like that, the four little birds disappeared.