Free Red Fox by Lara Fanning Page A

lead to my aunt and uncle’s place.”
    “Do you think they would have let your aunt and uncle stay?” Whil asks dubiously.
    “Maybe. It’s worth finding out if it gives us somewhere safe to stay.”
    I don’t know why I get the idea to go to my auntie and uncle’s. Why do I feel like they might still be there? Would the government have left them in their own house because they had very little impact on the environment? They own nearly two thousand acres of land and run three hundred head of beef cattle. They have their own vegetable garden, their own chickens for eggs and meat and can fend for themselves. That’s what the government wants us to do these days, after all. So surely there is a good chance that people who already lived in the exact way the government promotes would be spared and allowed to continue on as normal.
    They might have let them stay there. Or perhaps it is only wishful thinking. Either way, the flicker of hope I have of seeing them again—their familiar kind faces—will drive me towards their home.
    “And what are we going to do if we do escape? Go to live there forever?”
    I look at him, frowning and unsure whether he is doubtful of the plan or asking in total seriousness, and then turn away. He has a point, of course. What are we going to do if we manage to get out of this unseen arena? We could just stay at my relatives and hope we are never found. I don’t think I could stay there with the knowledge that my parents and brother are imprisoned elsewhere. Seiger said the A groups were being transferred to settlements. What does he mean by settlements and where are they? How can I live freely if they force my family to be slaves? But would I risk my freedom on the off chance of finding them—wherever they are?
    I throw Whil a sidelong look. His hands are folded in his lap, and he is looking at me curiously, waiting for an answer. Would he want to live with my aunt and uncle? Or go on a dangerous journey to find my family when he has his own to worry about? Either way, I know he won’t stay with me. For some reason, I feel a pang of sadness at that thought. How long have I known him? Maybe half a day? I fight the emotion back, sure I feel connected to him simply because there are no other people around, and sigh. Whil cannot become part of my life.
    “I’ll go into hiding, I suppose. And just live like the Aboriginal people used to.”
    “Right… and what shall I do?”
    I look at him and arch my eyebrows in question.
    “Can’t I stay with you?”
    “Oh,” I say.
    For his sake, I want to say ‘sure you can!’ but the words simply won’t come, and I sit there gawking at him like an idiot. He’s shown himself to be inept in the wilderness already, but that isn’t to say he won’t be helpful in a different, more domestic setting. Plus, I will need company if my aunt and uncle aren’t at home, else I might go mad. But then I realise that my delayed response isn’t due to me thinking logically about his companionship, it is something entirely different that makes me mute.
    I’ve met plenty of boys at my school before. Plenty of attractive, friendly boys that I don’t act like a fool in front of. Why is this one any different? He was a city boy, which was one difference. And the one who made me feel comfort and hope in that transport box.
    At my hesitation, Whil looks confronted. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t but I thought…”
    Finally, my voice works again but it sounds crackly and high pitched. “I just didn’t think you’d want to come with me.”
    “We should stick together,” he says, and he looks straight into my eyes.
    I gaze back at him, mesmerised by the pale blue of his iris. For some reason, the two of us gazing at one another in the middle of the outback doesn’t feel awkward. I’m not compelled to turn away like I am with other people. Looking at him, I feel content and safe. I don’t feel like the world has just collapsed around me. All danger