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'Pretty Girl'

D

David Weaver

gone but not forgotten
‘Pretty Girl’​
David Weaver ©​
Charley Dingo placed his heavy hunting spear against the tree and turned to face Pretty Girl, who was sitting by the fire cooking a freshly caught turtle. She was now no more than skin and bone, and since the fire ants had entered her stomach, two wet seasons back, the pain had slowly consumed her. She never complained but he’d noticed, in the last season of the moon, Pretty Girl often groaned in her sleep.
Today she’d told him it was her time to go, not by voice but through the message in her sad eyes. It was finally time to leave this place, and Charley made everything ready, but this was to be a different parting for he was going with her, to continue their next voyage together.
He thought of the time so long ago when, in this very place, he’d first seen her as a child. It was the season when the monsoonal rain rushed towards the mighty cliffs, like today, roaring its way through the high valley its creamy white foam brushing aside all in it’s path until it reached the waterfall so high it launched the river into space as if driven by the mighty force of an angry mountain.
Charley had laid claim to Pretty Girl as only a man can, and her father had been happy to hand her over to such a fine hunter. The old man knew she would never go hungry with him and his hunting spear, also his grandchildren would be strong and skilled in the ways of the bush.
Charley smiled as he remembered the old man asking him not to beat her with a stick too often; for she was a good daughter and the hunter kept his promise to him. No stick ever crossed her back, and her belly always had plenty of food in it, as well as a grandchild to make the tribe happy.
Pretty Girl had always walked behind in his shadow so he could freely face the dangers of the bush where he had plenty of space to throw his mighty spear or swing a club, while she foraged for bush food, and taught the ways of the harsh land to their children.
But now those days were over and it was time to go. Charley picked up his spear for the last time, and stood before her. She looked into his face and nodded; for now she was ready. He untied the strong leg sinews of a kangaroo from around his waist and bound her arm to his, leaving some slack he bent down and picked her up and started the lonely trek along the stony track towards the high lip of the waterfall. No words passed between them for none were needed, and when he reached the roaring edge of the cauldron of falling water they marvelled at the beautiful rainbow that had been there for all their lives. Charley held Pretty Girl closely to his chest and stepped out onto the rainbow, while downriver the crocodiles were waiting to take them onto their next journey together.
End​
 
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