Within moments Jemimah was swallowed up by the bush. It was far darker beneath the trees than she had expected but a quick glance at her watch and the gloomy sky above made her hope she would have time to make just one quick lap before dark.

She told herself it was only the gathering clouds blocking the light and they would probably have passed over in a matter of minutes. It had been overcast on and off for days and nothing had come of it.

But still, it gave Jemimah an extra incentive to run her hardest.

At least with running alone there was no Jarrah to force her to pace herself. She relished the pain in her lungs and the burning in her muscles. Her thoughts were so consumed by watching her footing on the shadowy dirt track that that it worked like a drug to dull her anxious fears about Kai’s parents. Hidden in the scrub, she felt safe from their attacks.

But, as little as she wanted to admit it to herself, she was growing more and more concerned as the light faded inexplicably quickly.

Instead of dispersing, the clouds were thickening. The bush ahead was dark and foreboding. She had not yet reached the halfway point and her conscience told her the sensible thing would be to go back rather than press on deeper into the bush.

Frustration welled up inside her. She did not want to give in to fear yet again. That was why she was running. But the inviting silvery green of the foliage surrounding her had faded to a menacing grey and the leaves seem to whisper threateningly as they were whipped by the growing wind.

She stopped in her tracks as a large branch plummeted from a tree overhead. Her heart pounding, she drew in a great lung full of air just as a bright light flashed all around her followed only seconds later by a huge crack of thunder.

Jemimah spun around and began running in the opposite direction. There was no question now about the necessity of turning back. If she could keep up the pace she might just make it back to the shelter of her car before the storm broke.

Heavy drops of rain began to crash sporadically through the leafy canopy. There was no pleasure in her run now, just self-recrimination for her foolish indulgence. With her imagined sense of freedom and escape now overwhelmed by the new danger, the accusations from Kai’s parents and her own sense of failure swirled through her mind as destructively as the wind tearing down twigs as she fought her way along the track back toward the school.

Then another dazzling flash of light and a boom of thunder so close and so loud that it left her cowering. What more can I do God? she cried, hot tears of frustration and despair burning her eyes. The harder I try the worse things keep getting. Why do I have to keep going through this?

She stumbled over a fallen branch, and when she looked up was faced by a fork in the path she didn’t even know was there. She’d run the track countless times, but never in this direction, and neither path looked familiar. Panic threatened within her like the rumbling clouds above, but she tried to tamp it down. She couldn’t get lost, not this close to school. She’d pick one track, and if it wasn’t the right one she’d retrace her steps and take the other.

Picking the left track, she started determinedly along it, her courage evaporating with each step that took her further into unfamiliar surroundings. At least she thought it was unfamiliar - the whole bush swayed and moved in the rising wind like a living thing, a malevolent thing, closing in around her.

Jemimah quickly backtracked, but now was unsure if she’d returned to the original fork or not. The rain was coming faster now, and she pushed her wet hair back from her eyes and tried another path.

Again, the sinking feeling of despair grew as she moved deeper and deeper into unknown territory. She glanced over shoulder, and through the swaying undergrowth saw what seemed to be a break in the trees. Could she have found her way to the boundary of the bush?

She moved desperately towards it but found herself, not at the end of the bushland, but in a small clearing ringed by gums. The rain fell steadily here, unimpeded by the canopy and she drew back under the tree line and tried to take stock of her surroundings. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, and on the far side of the clearing she saw what looked like a natural shelter formed by a huge leaning tree growing around two massive rocks. Perhaps she could wait out the worst of the storm under there?

Something kept her from stepping out into the open and, as she hesitated, a gust of wind swirled through the clearing, bringing with it twigs and wet leaves and . . . cows? It was such a vague feeling she at first thought she must be imagining it, but on the wind it came again, a livestock smell like the Turnbull’s home paddock, and the faintest sense of the cattle mooing. It couldn’t be, she told herself, not out here miles from the nearest farm, and not in this storm -- it could only be her own fear and the sound of the wind. The strangeness of it made her heart pound all the harder, and she longed desperately to be back in the safety of her classroom.

Jemimah’s clothes were wet through now, and she shivered as she looked again at the cave-like arrangement of boulders on the far side of the clearing. If she sheltered under there she’d be out of the rain and wind and protected from the lightning, but something foreboding about the impenetrable darkness beneath the rocks held her back.

As she stared, a shadow separated from the darkness. It was large, far taller than herself. Taller than any man.

Jemimah felt faint with fear as she stared at the creature opposite her, trying to make out its silhouette. Surely it was only a kangaroo, she’d seen them disappearing into the scrub plenty of times on her runs.

But it had moved with a single clear step, not like a kangaroo at all. And it was too broad and too tall to be a kangaroo. Far too tall.

She tried to breathe. And again came the smell of livestock, stronger now and almost making her gag.

All the stories about the yowie came flooding into her mind. Michael’s jokes that nevertheless had something behind them. Jack’s constant references to truck drivers that would never stop until they’d passed the other side of Pilliga and even Angie’s shuddering at the mention of a yowie. She remembered someone talking about huge footprints and of the trees ringbarked by long claws. At the time she’d tried to dismiss it as urban myth, but now lost in the edge of the Pilliga forest herself it seemed horrifically credible. Even myths had to be based on something ...

Her muscles were beginning to cramp painfully at their enforced stillness after the hard running, but she could do nothing except stare in terror at the creature that was standing stock still on the opposite side of the clearing, watching her as closely as she was watching it.

Should she turn and run?

Or was that the worst thing you could do? Turn your back on a wild animal and run?

And what about the story that yowies would track lone walkers in the bush, loping along behind them just out of sight within the tree line, waiting until they stopped ...

She was shaking uncontrollably now, but still in possession of her senses. Just.

Just enough to remember the story in the “Little House” books where Laura Ingall’s Pa had endured a stand-off with a huge bear in the dark woods -- only for the bear to turn out to be a hollow tree trunk.

And just enough to remember only a few days before she’d made that terrible mistake about thinking there was an axe-murderer behind her at the Turnbull’s.

The - the thing -- hadn’t moved since that first chilling step, and perhaps even that had been a trick of the shadows? She would not panic, hadn’t she already learned how much harm an unbridled imagination could do?

And yet, some instinct kept her from either moving into the clearing or turning her back on it and retreating into the scrub.

A gust of wind tore through the trees, and Jemimah flinched as a bough clattered down through the branches to land near her feet. Then, with a mighty crack, lightning forked across the sky and in that second of brilliant illumination she saw the creature in chilling clarity.

It was not a kangaroo -- or a tree.

It was like nothing she had ever seen before.

It stood upright like a man, nearly seven feet tall and was covered in coarse hair. Pointed ears stood upright at both sides of its head and its flat face was covered in thick hair.

Dark eyes sparkled from cavernous sockets, and yellow fangs flashed bright in the lightning. No neck separated that fearsome face from its chest and it stood, legs apart, long arms hanging by its side as it stared back at her.

Jemimah heard herself screaming even before darkness swallowed the clearing again, the piercing wail which exploded from her lungs echoing from the rocks and trees. Adrenalin surged through her like fire, numbing her mind and arming her body for flight. There was no more thinking, only the desperate desire for escape.

Still screaming, Jemimah leapt desperately into the bush behind her. From behind her came the creature’s growl, a terrifying sound deep from its throat that rang after her like deranged laughter.

She crashed blindly through the undergrowth, heedless alike of tracks or direction. Branches tore at her, and she stumbled and tripped over rocks and tree roots, but fought her way desperately back into the scrub. Lightning and thunder continued to ricochet through the forest but they didn’t even make her flinch -- she cared only to get away from that creature in the clearing.

Unable to think for terror, she plunged on, mindless of the bruises and scratches the rocks and branches were inflicting in her headlong dash. Her breath was coming in rasps, a stitch in her side burnt like a hot iron being rammed into her body but her legs kept moving of their own accord.

She had no idea how long she ran before sense began to flow back into her throbbing brain, and she stopped and leaned against a tree, breathing hard and trying to detect any sound of movement over the sound of her panting and the pouring rain. The next flash of lighting lit up nothing except trees. She could hear nothing, but dared not stop long. She knew she was totally lost, it was completely dark and she was entirely disorientated - but she knew she had to keep moving.

She needed as much distance between it - the yowie - and herself as possible. She was soaked to the skin, and as she started to run again, realised how sapped of strength and weak she felt. If she was going to keep going, she knew she’d have to pace herself now.

She forced herself to walk, but her terror was all consuming. It would have been frightening enough being lost alone in the bush at night ... only she was not alone. The yowie was not far away. Her only plan was to keep moving until either she found her way out of there - or it was daylight again. She could not bear the thought of stopping and resting, and having the yowie find her.

Prayers for help began to form unconsciously in her heart, and she repeated them over and over but without much conviction. She still felt bitterly betrayed over what had happened at the Turnbull’s, and she’d never imagined that from that low point her life could continue to get worse ... and yet it had. Why should she think He would come to her aid this time? Did God not care for her? Was He determined to crush her?

Jemimah trudged miserably onwards into the dark, picking herself up from the ground again and again as she stumbled on unseen rocks and roots. As long as she kept moving, the sound of her own laboured breathing and noisy footfall drowned out the terrors of the myriad of noises in the bush. The storm had soon passed on, but there was no moon and Jemimah could not even make out the time on her watch. At least the rain had finally stopped, and her constant movement gave a little warmth against the cold night air and chill of her wet clothes.

No, she must not stop, she told herself over and over again. Morning must come, light must come; this nightmare must end ... if only she did not stop. As long as she kept moving, she was one step ahead of the yowie.

Somewhere, she knew, despite her confusion and hurt, God was still there. And if she couldn’t find her way to him, surely he would come and find her?

Her walking had become little more than poorly co-ordinated stumbling many hours before she pitched unexpectedly down the narrow bank of a small creek. Even as the frigid water flooded into her running shoes, she felt a strange triumph. Now she had direction, and security.

Jemimah crouched down and drank deeply. If the yowie was still tracking her, if she walked in the stream, surely it could track her no further. And after endless hours of hacking through the dense bush, the natural clearing surrounding the path of the water course was like a road to her. She had no idea where it led - but she would follow it, knowing at least she was not now going in circles.

Onward she sloshed through its shallow waters hour after endless hour - and while she no longer had to battle through bushes and trees, her feet often slipped on the smooth river stones, her toes bruised and aching within her sodden shoes.

At the first faint glow of dawn Jemimah’s heart lifted. Somehow she’d made it through the night. As the light slowly grew she could see in the distance where the creek opened up into some kind of clearing. She pressed on, eventually making out the shadowy line of a wire fence, and beyond that, she thought, a road.

The distance between her and that road seemed further than everything she’d already walked through that long night, and when she finally crawled under the wire and into the causeway she could not pull herself up off her knees. Just as total exhaustion drained the last vestige of light from her eyes, she dragged herself onto the dirt road.

Curling herself into a ball in the dusty ground, she surrendered to sleep.

If it still followed her . . . she could do no more.