It was a smell unlike anything he’d encountered before in the forest. The Yolngu hunter rested his spear on the ground as he peered warily through the trees toward the charred clearing fifty meters away. He’d been searching for it since he’d seen a column of black smoke rising into the sky earlier in the day. The smoke had been too black and oily for a campfire, too thin for a bush fire. Bandaka guessed the source of the fire was on the eastern slope of Mount Fleming, just north of the Walker River. It had burned itself out hours ago, but the unnatural caustic odor remained like an invisible spirit haunting the land. He wondered if it was the smell that had silenced the creatures of the forest, or something else beyond his understanding. The only sign of life was a dark gray, wedge tailed eagle circling high above on wings whose span was greater than the tallest man. Bandaka had always admired the great eagle, the largest hunter in the sky. He took its presence as a sign that a great spirit watched over the land and who, even now, spied the charred wreckage scattered amongst the tall, white limbed gum trees ahead.
