Forest Shadows

Forest Shadows

David Laing

Published by JoJo Publishing

First published 2012

This Edition 2013

‘Yarra's Edge'

2203/80 Lorimer Street

Docklands VIC 3008 Australia

Email:
[email protected]
or visit
www.jojopublishing.com

© David Laing

All rights reserved. No part of this printed or video publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

JoJo Publishing

Designer / typesetter: Chameleon Print Design

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Digital edition distributed by

Port Campbell Press

www.portcampbellpress.com.au

Conversion by
Winking Billy

David Laing
is a full-time writer who enjoyed a long career as a teacher and school principal in South Australia, the Northern Territory and Tasmania. As a schoolboy he played league football for the Port Adelaide A-grade side, and during his teaching training semester vacations, he was employed in a variety of part-time jobs such as serving petrol, forestry work and fruit picking. He draws inspiration for his characters and intriguing Young Adult stories from his life's experiences and the many people, including Aboriginal children and adults, he has met along the way.

Forest Shadows
is the second book of a trilogy, which will soon be followed by the third book,
Forest Secrets
. He has toured with
Forest Spirit
, the first book in the trilogy
,
both in Tasmania and on the mainland, presenting at schools, to adult groups and at bookshops and has been interviewed on radio stations such as the ABC and Radio SSE.

David Laing lives with his wife, Wendy, and faithful dog, Jesse, in beautiful Deloraine in Tasmania.

Other books by this author:

Forest Spirit

A Tumble in Time

Author website:
www.davidlaingauthor.com

I couldn't be any more sincere when I say thanks to my editor, Ormé, who was a delight to work with. Her sage advice was always noted and taken on board. Thanks also to Barry and Jo of JoJo Publishing, who gave me a start with my first novel, and for all their help ever since. It's always good to hear from fellow authors and this time my thanks go out to T.D. McKinnon of Terra Nullius fame; your insights, opinions and encouragement were much appreciated. Whenever I have a problem with IT, I call on my wife, Wendy, to fix it and she does. Thanks.

For my Scottish family

THURSDAY NIGHT

W
u Han stood in the doorway of his hut, staring into the night. Something was wrong. ‘It should not be like this, Po-Yee,' he whispered to his Siamese cat that was sitting by his side. ‘Something very bad happening.'

Arms folded and hands inside the wide, flowing sleeves of his purple gown, he watched for a sign. Anything. He shivered as he felt the first stabbing prickles of panic. He was certain. Some inexplicable thing, something bad, was near.

The wild animals had known this, too. Like a wisp of smoke, they'd disappeared. The animals had, over the years, come to make Wu's place their second home. It was their place of freedom where they were safe — from each other, from all predators. It was the law, Wu Han's law. Yet something had frightened them … some shadowy thing.

With Po-Yee following closely behind, he stepped outside, trying to see through the darkness, straining to hear any sound. There was nothing.

He made his way to the campfire that he'd lit earlier in the clearing between his hut and the surrounding forest. When the weather was fine, sitting by the fire with Po-Yee on his lap was a ritual with Wu. One he enjoyed. Its warmth and smoky fragrance were a comfort.

Not now.

He looked down at Po-Yee. She was making rasping sounds from somewhere in the back if her throat like a baby choking. ‘Peace not come tonight, Po-Yee. Yin and Yang not balance, Yin too strong.'

The two forces meant everything to Wu Han. They were life itself. Yin warned of darkness, weakness, all that was bad. Yang was the opposite, meaning the bright, strong and good. From a very young age in China, he'd learned their meanings, learned that for harmony, good health and peace, the two needed to complement each other. ‘Yin very bad, Po-Yee. Yang weak.'

As if in reply, a sudden, choking smell surrounded him. His hands flew to his face, covering his nose and mouth. He tried to stifle his breathing, taking only short, shallow breaths. Then, through parted fingers, he searched for the source. He saw nothing, but it lingered, continuing to hang in the air like thick, choking treacle and with it had come a silence, a quiet that didn't belong.

His eyes, wide and darting now, continued to search the surrounds. He saw only the shadowy outline of his hut and the dark shapes of the forest, quivering in the glow of the fire. ‘Why you hide from me? Why you not come out?' he said.

Feeling a growing weakness in his legs, he lowered himself onto a handcrafted seat put together years ago. Then, with a rasping sound, not unlike a low growl, Po-Yee leaped onto his lap where she settled into a ball among the folds of his gown as though hiding. He stroked her still body, feeling her fear. He felt it, too, and like a wildfire, it was growing.

He continued to sit, staring into the embers of the fire, watching its changing shapes without really seeing. He leant over and picked up a tin mug and a billycan that he always kept by the fire's side and with trembling hands he poured the hot liquid, a tea made from the leaves of a nearby sassafras tree. The ritual of tea making did little to quell his nerves.

The situation was getting worse.

The stink had grown stronger, continuing to waft up his nostrils and down his throat. He held back a cough and wiped a drop of spittle from his lips with the back of his hand. ‘It has started, Po-Yee,' he said, suddenly realising the worst. ‘They have come.'

He searched the sky … listening for what he knew must be there. At last he heard it – a faint whickering sound.

It grew louder.

His grip around the mug loosened. It fell from his hands. Po-Yee snarled and leaped to the ground. She raced into the forest.

Wu, his eyes riveted to the northern sky, barely noticed the cat's panic. He continued to stare and his eyes widened as the cause of the whickering came into view. It was a ball of light, pulsating and moving in his direction. He bit his lips and his body trembled.

He struggled to his feet as it drew near, the whickering now a steady throb. He shivered and his heart thumped against his chest as he continued to stare.

Moving slowly as though searching, the thing, as big as a house and flashing from red to orange, drew to a halt, hovering above his home like a hawk in the sky ready to strike.

‘Go away! Leave us!' Wu Han shouted.

As though hearing his words, the object shuddered. Then suddenly, like a balloon exploding, it sped towards the forest where it skirted, then disappeared, behind the trees to the south.

Wu lowered his eyes and wiped his brow. He inhaled deeply, burying his face in his hands.

For ten minutes or more he stood by the fire, staring at nothing, struggling to think. ‘Yin bring terrible thing,' he said aloud. ‘Karma very bad. Very bad feeling.'

Po-Yee! He had forgotten about her. With some effort, he shuffled to the edge of the forest, calling her name. ‘Po-Yee! Where are you? It safe now. It gone.'

There was only darkness … and a silence that hung in the air like an invisible shroud. ‘Po-Yee. Where are you?' he called again.

Then he saw her. She was moving slowly towards him, slinking close to the ground, turning her head from side to side as though searching. Reaching Wu, she made a rasping sound and rubbed against his legs. He bent and picked her up.

‘Po-Yee,' the old Chinaman whispered. ‘Stay with me. There is peril.' With sad eyes, he rested a trembling hand on the cat's sleek back.

Then, as though an invisible signal had sounded, the forest began to stir.

Wallabies, wombats, quolls, devils, slunk from the depths of the trees back once again to their safe place on Wu Han's land. Possums began to rustle in the branches and night birds cried. The moon, creeping from behind the dull, silhouetted clouds, cast an icy glow on Wu Han's face, and from some hidden place the cicadas began to sing.

Wu Han, with Po-Yee in his arms, shuffled back to his hut, his wrinkled face downcast. He knew why they had come.

FRIDAY

J
ars and Snook Kelly, along with the other year ten students, filed into class and then found their seats. It was history, the first lesson after lunch. Miss Sweetman, their teacher, was writing on the whiteboard. She stopped and turned to face the class, but before she could say anything, the brown speaker that jutted from high on the wall at the front of the room, crackled and came to life. The teacher scowled. She wished the darn thing had never been installed.

‘Good afternoon, everyone,' it blared. As usual, it was the school secretary, Mrs Cherry. ‘The principal would like to see the Kelly children in his office straightaway. Jacinta Kelly, Snook Kelly, please make your way to Mr Twichette's office now. Thank you.'

A buzz went through the room and Jars and Snook, who were sitting near to each other, exchanged glances. Snook gave his what did I do now look. Jars shrugged. She didn't know either.

‘Quiet everyone. Settle down.' Miss Sweetman glared at the class. Her insistence on law and order in her classes was legendary. Still holding the whiteboard marker, she waved it towards the Kellys. ‘Okay, you two; you heard. Off you go.'

Despite the teacher's words, muffled whispers and twitters weren't far behind as Jars and Snook walked out the door into the corridor.

‘What do you reckon's goin' on?' Snook said as they stepped outside. They made their way across the school quadrangle past the junior school swings and sandpits. ‘Do you reckon we're in trouble or somethin'? If we are, I dunno why.' They stepped off the asphalt surface and climbed the few steps that led to the office block and the principal's office.

Jars shrugged and spread her arms. ‘Not that I know of. Unless you've done something I don't know about. You haven't been fighting or playing practical jokes lately, have you?'

‘Nah, nothin' like that. Just the usual. Teachers gettin' cranky about not doin' my homework assignments, bein' late for lessons, talkin' too much. Stuff like that.'