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

Clara Menzies didn't grow up being afraid of wild creatures. Her father worked with the government and kept track of the weather, but they largely forgot his coordinates. She knew the outback like a twin. She liked the peace and quiet of Windermere Ridge after marrying Tom, a zoologist with a dry sense of humor and a lot of patience.

Their daughter Elsie came along. She was only two years old, but she was already more adaptive. Life out there didn't change to make things easier. But that made sense until the day Clara left Elsie in the car for what she said would be a minute. And something was waiting for her to do just that.

She Was Gone

Before Clara's legs could react, her stomach sank. She pulled the automobile door all the way open. The strap on the car seat hung down like a question no one wanted to answer. She called out once, then twice, and her hands were already shaking. The immensity around Elsie seemed to devour her name. She then saw faint paw prints leading from the wheel arch across the yard to the low fence. She took off her sandals and ran barefoot, the dry grass cutting into her ankles. She saw it thirty meters away: the bent stalks and the thin path that many feet, not just hers, had walked on.