The Kadaitcha Curse Page 15
Yuka’s scream brought Arunta sprinting back to the spot where his father had been resting.
“Ngurakin! Stop!” Arunta shouted. The huge, wild dingo had his jaws wrapped around Yuka’s left thigh. Yuka was using all of the little strength he had left to aim useless blows at the animal. On hearing Arunta’s voice the dog released his prey and turned. Burnum was right. This one would not forget. It would not forget the near drowning. It would not forget the blows to its head. It would not forget the stings from the bees.
Instinctively, Arunta scanned the surrounding ground for his weapon, the spear given to him by his brother. Then he remembered that he had hidden it in a safe place earlier in the day. He looked around for a stick or a rock – anything that he could use to chase the dingo off or, better still, kill it.
As though he knew what Arunta was thinking the dingo growled and took a few threatening steps towards him.
“So it was you that I could hear following us, you one-eared devil. We should have finished you off in the creek.” Arunta lowered his voiced and spoke with a growl as if to mimic his adversary. “Where are your friends? Are they here to help you now?” Arunta looked around half expecting the rest of the pack to emerge from the dense forest.
As brave as his words were, Arunta was more afraid than he had ever been. For a long time the two stood staring at each other. If Arunta moved in any direction, even if only slightly, the wild dingo would take another step closer. Without a weapon, Arunta knew his chance in a fight would be next to none. So why did the dog not attack? Then Arunta recalled the fight in the creek when neither boy had a weapon, but they had still bettered the pack leader. He must remember… but, then again, there were two boys against one half-drowned dog. Hardly a fair match.
Arunta was right. The dingo was wary of his enemy, but not afraid. For a moment Arunta took his eyes off his opponent and looked at Yuka’s still body.
“Father!” Arunta called, softly at first, not wanting to startle the dog into action. No response.
Then louder, “Father, wake up!” At the sound of the raised voice the ngurakin crouched low on his front legs and, slowly at first but then with increasing speed, ran directly at Arunta who stood frozen on the spot. Running away would leave his father defenceless. And there was no knowing if the ngurakin was alone or if the rest of his pack was not far off. But Arunta needed time. So, knowing that the predator would chase its prey, he ran.
He did not take the track but sprinted through the bush. There were many trees that Arunta could climb but he thought neither of safety nor of escape, but only of putting distance between his father and the crazed animal. The dog was close behind and the gap between them was closing fast. Without losing pace, he stooped to pick up a small rock, turned, and threw it at the dog. Although struck on the head the dog seemed not to flinch and maintained his hot pursuit.
Arunta did not run straight. He had learned well from the goanna that he had chased when hunting with his brother. But he had done much walking that day and his legs soon became tired. His mind, too, became disorientated in the maze of trees. So, after much running, hurdling, weaving and stone throwing he found himself back near where his father lay broken and bleeding.
He had achieved nothing. The dog was still behind him. And Yuka was still exposed.
There was nowhere else to go. This hopeless game of chase had reached its inevitable end. It would not finish with laughter and back-slapping as it always did when he played it with Burnum and Clare. He stopped and turned to face dog. It was panting hard and frothy saliva dripped from the corners of its snarling mouth.
There was a momentary stand-off as both hunter and hunted took time to draw quick, shallow breaths. As the dog prepared to extract a savage vengeance, Arunta remembered his father’s words: Shame is not in dying, but in not fighting to live.
And without another moment's hesitation, Arunta ran directly at the dog. This is the end, he thought to himself. I shall die here on this spot. And so shall my father. Kadaitcha man shall have his revenge.
When the distance between them was barely one body length the savage animal, teeth bared, launched itself from the ground and through the air. Arunta raised his arms and readied himself for the clash of bodies. But he was not prepared for such a powerful impact. Arunta landed on his back, the force of the fall emptying him of all his breath.
Every part of his body was under attack from the dingo’s fierce claws and his knife-sharp fangs. Arunta fought with all his strength to keep the animals jaws from ripping at his neck but this dog seemed to be possessed by the devil and Arunta felt himself weakening. He looked sideways through bloodied eyes to where Yuka lay, still and seemingly lifeless.
“I am sorry, Father,” he groaned softly.
Arunta fought hard but was soon sapped of all strength. The wild dog’s giant jaws found the boy’s neck. Sharp teeth pierced his skin and squeezed his throat closed. Unable to breathe, Arunta conceded and gave up the struggle.