‘Are you all right?’ the kangaroo asked her again.
Brindabella didn’t want to tell him. What if he laughed at her?
But she couldn’t help herself.
‘My tail!’ she wailed. ‘Something horrible caught it!’
The kangaroo hopped closer. He bent down and looked at the end of her tail, and shook his head.
‘What was it?’
Brindabella gestured at the slope that the thing had clattered down when she threw it off. The kangaroo stepped carefully down the slope until he found it. He sniffed at it, then came back up again to where Brindabella was waiting.
‘Rabbit trap,’ he said. ‘That must have really hurt.’
Rabbit trap! Of course. Hadn’t the Old Wombat said something to her about the dangers of rabbit traps? Oh, if only she had paid more attention!
‘A bit,’ she admitted.
‘You were lucky,’ said the kangaroo, standing next to her. ‘It only took the tip.’
‘Lucky!’ retorted Brindabella, outraged. ‘Don’t you mean unlucky?’
‘Oh, well,’ said the kangaroo. ‘Lucky—unlucky. I suppose there are two ways of looking at most things.’
Brindabella did not agree. In her experience, there was usually one way of looking at things. There was definitely only one way of looking at the ruination of her tail. She felt the tears rising. The kangaroo saw her distress, and was at once contrite.
‘I’m so sorry, I only meant—’ he began. ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘Believe me, it will feel better soon. It’s happened to me too.’
Brindabella sniffled. ‘Really?’
‘Well, I think so,’ he said. ‘Anyway, if it didn’t happen, it could have. It could happen to anyone.’ He stopped again, as though there was something else he was trying to say. ‘I’ve seen you before,’ he finally blurted out in a rush.
‘Me?’ said Brindabella, astonished. ‘Where did you see me?’
‘I saw you—out on the plain. You—you were trying to catch up with us.’
‘Oh!’
Brindabella felt the flood of misery come over her again that she had felt watching the mob of kangaroos bounding further and further away.
‘Why didn’t you wait for me?’ she demanded. ‘Why did you all run off?’
The kangaroo shuffled from side to side and the leaves crackled under his feet.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It just happened. I’m sorry.’
A night mist rose up through the trees and an owl swooped past them in a rush of feathers. Something squeaked. Brindabella flicked her ears and bristled.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the kangaroo again. ‘But I’m here now. Actually, I came to find you.’
He hopped right over to Brindabella and stood next to her.
‘To find me?’ asked Brindabella, looking past him into the tangle of bush and trees.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ve left the others for a while. I wondered—I wanted to know. So I came looking for you. My name’s Dashwood,’ he added. ‘After my father.’
Brindabella stared at him for a moment. Dashwood...
‘Let’s not stay around here!’ she cried suddenly. ‘It’s such a wonderful night! Let’s go somewhere, Dashwood!’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Dashwood, taken aback. ‘Are you sure you're all right? Doesn’t your tail hurt?’
Brindabella had forgotten about her tail. All she wanted now was to rush through the world with her new friend.
‘Come on! Come on, Dashwood!’
And she flashed away through the silvery bushland, leaving nothing but the sound of her thumping feet behind her.
Dashwood sprang quickly after Brindabella, then in front of her, then alongside her, then behind her again. They travelled the whole long, bright night, through the bush, up and down hills, in and out of valleys, across the plains under the glassy sky.
Sometimes they saw huge night birds swooping from sky to earth. Sometimes they saw other kangaroos, a group of shadows, moving in the distance, but they did not join them. They hopped on, not looking back.
There were even times that Brindabella almost forgot Dashwood was there, and there were other times when she felt she herself was not there, that Dashwood alone was rushing through the night wind.
thought Brindabella.
At last the night was over and the early morning wisps of light began to shine over the tops of the trees. Slowly the colour returned to the world, and one by one, the birds began to gather on the tall branches to call and sing and chirp and caw.
The night had been filled with such different sounds, sights and smells. Now, as the sun rose, it was as though one world was turning into another world entirely. All the cockatoos, lorikeets and kookaburras were letting everybody know that the old world was gone and the new one had arrived. And this would happen, again and again, forever and forever...
Brindabella and Dashwood hopped along the edge of the bush, watching everything change over the wide grass-flecked plain, the rays of spreading light warming their fur. They slowed down to a stop under a tall white-trunked gum. Dashwood stretched his legs and shook his shoulders, and then leaned down to chew on a blade of coarse grass.
‘How handsome he is!’ thought Brindabella, glancing at him and quickly turning her head away.
Dashwood hopped a few paces towards her. He seemed hesitant. He tried to catch Brindabella’s eye, but she would not look at him.
‘I love the dawn,’ she remarked airily. ‘But I love the night more.’
Dashwood swallowed the piece of grass he was chewing. He came even closer. Then, on second thought, he took a few steps back again.
‘Brindabella,’ he said. ‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’
Brindabella twitched her ears.
‘I don’t know,’ she replied, and she felt nervous. Why should she be nervous? ‘It depends.’
Dashwood looked at her carefully.
‘It’s just this,’ he said at last. ‘I can’t help wondering—where are all your family? Why are you all alone in the world?'
Brindabella pushed her hind legs into the hard earth. How could she bear to tell Dashwood about her mother, about
