The Journey by John Marsden

know yours is the song of the night owl. You’ve got to find your own music. It’s already playing inside you; all you have to do is listen a little harder, so it’s not drowned out by all the noise around about.’
    The last of the coals were still glowing and putting out a surprising amount of warmth. Assisted by Cassim and Mayon, Ruth got to her feet and, with farewells to all, lumbered away to bed. The others too began to leave. Argus and the young girl Temora were left to put out the fire, but they hesitated to do it, so settled was its glow.
    â€˜I like Ruth,’ Temora said at last. ‘She’s so kind.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Argus agreed, ‘after a while you forget that she’s fat, and you just think of her as a nice, friendly lady.’
    â€˜Isn’t it good the way that happens?’ Temora said. ‘It’s the same with the twins. Already I forget that they’re connected — they seem such different personalities. But it usually takes longer to get over your first impressions.’
    â€˜It works in a sort of opposite way too,’ Argus said very nervously, driven to take risks by his growing liking for this dark-haired girl. ‘When I first saw you, I thought you were really attractive looking, and I still think so, but that’s only on the outside. Until I know you better I won’t know what you’re like on the inside — what you’re really like. It’s the opposite but the same, because with the freaks who work here you have to get over your first negative impression, which stops you from seeing them as people; and with someone who’s very good-looking, you have to get over your first positive impression, which still stops you from seeing her as a person.’
    â€˜Yes, exactly,’ Temora said. ‘I hate it when people comment on my looks, because I know they’re saying nothing at all about me. Absolutely nothing.’
    The two sat in silence for a few minutes, not an uncomfortable silence, but one rich with the promise of future possibilities. Finally, however, Temora yawned and stretched. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to put out the fire, or are you staying up?’
    â€˜I’ll stay up,’ Argus answered. He sat gazing into the coals for another half an hour, as though he would find the answers to all questions there.

Chapter Nine
    T he convoy of wagons and caravans moved slowly, at the pace of its slowest member, so that it took two more days to reach the coast. Argus was impatient, yet he passed the time profitably enough. Mayon taught him how to juggle and Parara, the more extroverted of the conjoined twins, told him many stories of their lives in sideshows and fairs. Lavolta interjected occasional comments, usually sour ones, and Argus came to realise that the taunts and blows they suffered had deeply wounded one twin while leaving the other virtually unscathed.
    The land was becoming flatter, the ground sandier and the breeze saltier. On their third day out from Ifeka they pitched camp at about four in the afternoon, in a sheltered spot that Mayon said was as close to the sea as they would be for a while. Argus hurried through his jobs, then obtained permission to go off on his own. With his heart beating he set out for the long line of sandhills in the distance, jogging and walking, his face pointing up as he sniffed the surf like an overjoyed dog.
    When he reached the line of sandhills, about an hour from the camp, he found there were more dunes concealed behind them. His enthusiasm slowed a little as he climbed them, and then more hills. Sinking in and out of the sand at each step was tiring; it reminded him of times at home when he and his sister had played on the mud floors of dams that were drying up. When he did reach the final crest it came as a surprise: he had ceased to think about his reasons for ploughing through the endless sand.
    But suddenly there it