Dingos Surrounded the Baby, but Something Older Watched From the Ridge

Into the Gully

Clara followed the tracks past the water tanks, down toward the edge of the old gully behind the house, where runoff carved shallow veins through the clay. Her breath caught as she spotted Elsie’s hat snagged on a thornbush. She didn’t call out. Her instincts shifted—less mother, more animal.

Clara dropped to her knees, scanned the area, then crawled forward through the brush, heart pounding. There, in the natural bowl of the terrain, sat Elsie. Seven dingos stood around her in loose formation, but her mom didn’t hesitate. She stood, slow and upright, and began walking down the slope, step by step.

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