Two Wolves by Tristan Bancks

Grey nylon bag. Black handles.
    The new old car
    Haircuts
    He added:
    Pulled over by cops. Drive off and chase.
    The cabin
    Bag full of money
    Sold the wreckers
    Sun emerged from behind the clouds. Bright splotches of light on Ben’s notebook. He reread the notes. One thing was clear – weird stuff was going on. His parents were in trouble. He didn’t know why but he knew they were.
    â€˜What’re you doing?’ said a voice from above him.
    Ben snapped his notebook shut.

Ben leapt quickly from boulder to boulder, heading further downstream, trying to get away from her.
    â€˜Leave me alone!’
    â€˜No. It was my idea to come down here,’ Olive said. ‘Then you just . . . poopsnaggled off by yourself.’
    â€˜There’s no such word as poopsnaggled. Get a dictionary. And go away!’
    â€˜What were you writing?’
    â€˜Nothing.’
    â€˜You wrote “bag full of money” and “sold the wreckers”. Who sold the wreckers?’
    â€˜Nobody,’ he said.
    â€˜Then why was Dad so cranky with you?’
    Ben continued to make his way across the boulders on the creek bank, scanning the rocks for snakes.
    â€˜What did he hide in the roof?’ Olive asked, struggling to keep up with Ben, jumping from rock to rock.
    â€˜Olive! GO A-WAY!’
    â€˜One day I’m going to steal your stupid notebook and read the whole thing and show my friends and laugh and – owww!’
    Ben turned. Olive had slipped on a rock.
    â€˜Aaaaaarrrgggh!’ she cried.
    â€˜Serves you right.’
    â€˜He-e-elp, Ben!’ She was lying, legs in the air, face twisted in pain.
    Ben wanted to be strong and continue up the creek bank, but he couldn’t. He sighed, made his way across the boulders and helped her up. Her palms were scratched and stinging like his. He scooped his hands under her armpits and helped her down to the creek.
    â€˜Dip them in the water,’ he said.
    â€˜No, it’ll sting, you idiot!’
    â€˜Does it sting now?’
    She looked at him for a moment, then slowly, carefully, slipped her hands into the water.
    â€˜Ow,’ she said quietly.
    â€˜Is that better?’
    She nodded and sniffled.
    â€˜You’ll be okay,’ Ben said.
    She took her hands out of the water and shook them.
    Ben looked around. He massaged his hands together like he did when he felt like making something. ‘You want to help me?’
    â€˜Do what?’ Olive asked.
    â€˜I d’know. Build something maybe. Come on.’ He stood and helped her up to flat, dry ground. ‘Watch out for snakes.’
    â€˜Where?’ Olive said. ‘I love snakes.’
    Ben shook his head. He walked up to the edge of the pine trees. He found a long branch and dragged it down to the boulders. Olive saw another branch about the same length and picked up the end of it, grappling and struggling to drag it down the hill.
    Ben had never built anything before. Nothing life-size. Just his movie sets and characters. And half a model aircraft carrier with Dad when he was seven. Dad always promised to finish it with him but he never did.
    Ben and Olive searched for a long time, dragging together the best branches they could find. Most of them were straight and brown, about three metres long, with a few twigs sticking out near the ends which were easy to snap off. The branches had fallen from the tall pines above.
    â€˜Hoop pine,’ Olive said.
    â€˜What? How do you know that?’
    â€˜They just look like the ones I saw in a book at school.’
    â€˜Really?’ he said. He liked the sound – ‘hoop’. He whispered the words ‘hoop’ and ‘pine’ as he worked. He noticed Olive quietly saying ‘hoop pine, hoop pine’ to herself too. They became lost in searching and dragging.
    After a time, Olive counted the logs.
    â€˜Sixteen!’ she announced. ‘Six- teen logs. See! Count them.