A Shadow at the Door by Jo Dixon

Author:Jo Dixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQ Fiction
Published: 2023-11-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

JOSEPHINE

Monday, 7 August 2023

Josephine climbed. Head down, grasping at boulders for balance, testing the loose rock before she shifted her weight from one foot to another. Hunters Track was proving to be one hell of a steep climb, taking her from the easily accessible Junction Cabin up to the chalet. From there, according to her map, another track looped back, leading down the mountain. Or, for the fit and brave, there was the Zig Zag Track towards the summit. Right now, she wanted the easier option. Her thighs were burning and her breath came in deep, sucking pants. This was bloody hard work and the track was poorly defined. A steep scramble over the rocks and scree, the path was marked by occasional reflective orange tags, which weren’t always easy to find.

Only a few scruffy trees clung to this section of the mountain, leaving walkers exposed, and while the wind wasn’t fierce, it was bitterly cold. The sky, at least, was clear. The views, when she turned to look out instead of down at her feet, were amazing. She’d checked the weather report thoroughly before setting out. Walking on the mountain in winter could be dangerous and while there was no snow today, she understood how quickly things could change. Her small backpack held everything Parks and Wildlife insisted a hiker should carry: sturdy rain jacket, first-aid kit, food, water. A whistle and a compass dangled from a loop. Her waterproof map was in one pocket. There was a space blanket tucked inside. Plus those fabulous pocket warmers, which she bought in bulk. Just open the packet, give them a shake and within a few minutes they were thawing her hands or warming her face.

A month ago, before she’d even set foot on the mountain, she’d spent days studying the advice in the hiking guide and had been diligent in ticking off her list as she bought supplies. Hobart had a cluster of outdoor supply shops and she’d become familiar with all of them. She’d asked questions, listening intently to the staff, their passion for adventuring evident in their enthusiasm for thermals and boots, packs and kit. If something went wrong, she was ready. She’d even invested in an EPIRB—an emergency position indicating radio beacon. It was always better to have things you might need but didn’t use than to need something and not have it.

The rock-hopping finally gave way to a narrow track, but the incline remained punishing. She stopped, slipping her pack off her shoulders to retrieve her water bottle. Deciding a square of dark chocolate was well deserved, she snapped off two, her gloved fingers awkward, and popped them in her mouth.

Then she pulled her beanie low around her face, replaced her water bottle and hoisted the pack onto her back before continuing the slow trudge to where she would cross Pinnacle Road and reach the chalet. The last few steps of the path were stone blocks cut for seven-foot giants. The muscles in Josephine’s thighs

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