The dingo raised her head. Nose twitching, ears pricked. Listening. The machines rumbled onwards, trampling the summer-parched grass, yellowed by the dry heat. The smell of humans hung in the air, and the heavy reek of oil lingered bitterly in her mouth, making her eyes water. Her dusty orange coat matched both the warm rock she stood on, and the soft amber sun that rested patiently on the horizon, awaiting the time it could finally slip out of view and enter the dingo's world into darkness. The creature stepped back as a truck zoomed close, sending a rush of wind into her face. Whether the human drivers could see her, she did not know. But that wasn't what worried her most. Her main question was: 'why are they here?' As the final vehicle trundled by, the dingo crept after it, her snout partially hidden in the long, dry grass. She stepped carefully, ensuring that her silence was absolute. She stopped several metres behind where the final truck had parked. Out of the huge machines stepped humans; the dingo counted five. They wore fluorescent, sleeveless jackets, and strange clear things that they placed over their eyes. The dingo stood, a statue, surrounded by kilometres of open plains in front of her, bushland to her back, her vision lighted by the dying sun and the flickers of the first stars beginning to appear in a purplish sky. One of the humans reached into the truck. It grabbed an object, long and metallic and sharp-looking. The dingo didn't like it. Then, the human with the alien object invited another to grab the opposite end of it. Curious, the dingo allowed herself to wander forward a few paces. The humans placed the object low against the trunks of one of the trees and began to slide it, back and forth, along the toughened, dry bark. With each stroke, the object cut deeper and deeper into the tree’s age-old trunk. The dingo watched, stricken, as at last, the tree shook, and, with one final creak, fell to the ground with an earth-shattering thud. Frightened, the dingo backed away, reeling. How many more trees until the humans were satisfied? And when they were, would the bush still be hers to call home? How could she possibly survive in a harsh, new land? ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hope you like it! :D {Btw the image was from Google and it said Creative Commons so...}
