The kangaroo farmers had always been a strange group of people. They lived in the hot plains of inland Australia. Their homes were clusters of tents near a waterhole. They were a few close knit families forming a small community. Their ideas were often alien and radical, yet they were always right. They farmed huge mobs of red kangaroos. They insisted that they didn't own them, though. They protected them, took them to the best sources of food and water, and used them for meat, skins and trade. It was a unique bond between kangaroo and farmer that could never be reproduced. The kangaroos seemed to trust the people's better judgement and the people trusted the kangaroo's better senses and instincts.
Kangaroo farming was a complex business. Most of it was based on knowledge of the land, instinct and guesswork. When a new water source had to be found, all three of these would be employed. The farmers would look at the land and use their knowledge to either find a water source or remember one they had used before. Then they would use their instincts to guess how big, deep and useful it might be. They were usually right.
If they needed to trade for certain things, they had an uncanny ability to turn up at an occupied cattle hut or another group of kangaroo farmers, with meat and skins to trade. Jokes were made of this gift, often accompanied by questions about how they did it. These were usually met with knowing smiles and silence. Kangaroo people didn't talk much to strangers, or even friends. They were mysterious people who kept to themselves. Besides, they didn't really know.

Lamana found herself suddenly awake. She blinked away the last dregs of sleep and pushed her hair out of her face. She'd had a very vivid dream. She dreamt she was walking into a small clearing with a small stream winding through it, a pack roo by her side. There was a sudden, loud rustle in the brush to one side of her. She had snapped her head around and stood, tensely watching the brush. One could never trust a dingo; they'd been known to attack full grown men. She had looked over to the roo. It was watching her with mild interest, but seemed totally unconcerned about the noise. She relaxed; you could always trust a kangaroo's instincts. At that moment, something burst out of the scrub and landed in front of her. It was a whimsical creature about as big as the feral cats you sometimes see at night. It had sleek, short black fur that glistened in the light. Its wolfish muzzle was filled with sharp teeth that showed when the creature opened its mouth. It had long legs, but small, neat feet, like a cat. The rest of its body was like a miniature wolf with very short coat and a cat's tail, except for the bat-like wings folded tightly against its back and flanks. It had watched her like a hawk with its light, golden eyes. She hadn't felt scared, but she looked to the roo out of habit. It was regarding her curiously and sniffing the air. She noticed it didn't even look at the fearsome creature in front of her. Its eyes seemed to shy away from it unconsciously. She ignored that completely when the beast approached her silently, ears pricked forward. She lowered her hand and touched its smooth shoulder. Then she had woken up.
She couldn't shake the memory of that touch. It clung to her like dust.
"Lama!" She heard her father call out her pet name while she was getting dressed.
"Coming!" She yelled back, pulling on her boots and hopping out of her hide tent. She found her father at the campfire, drinking tea with Karn, another member of their farm community.
"Karn says there's a fresh spring around here somewhere. I thought since you like exploring so much maybe you could go and see if you can find it. You don't have to, if you don't want to, you can stay here. I can get one of the boys to do it. What about Niko? He's around - "
"It's okay, I'd love to go." Lamana cut in.
"Are you sure?" Her father said doubtfully. "I don't know how far it is. You might have to stay overnight in the plains."
"That's all right. I'll be fine." Lamana assured, "I've stayed the night on the plains before."
"Not by yourself."
"She'll be right." Karn said, "She won't be alone, anyhow. She'll have a pack roo with her."
"All right then, take Banjin, he's not full grown but he's coming along well. He'll stay with you and he's quite strong."
Lamana tried not to seem too excited as she went back to her tiny tent to pack her gear. She wouldn't need much. In her sleeping bag she rolled a spare set of clothes, her torch, some matches from her father's special hoard and some travel rations from the storage tent. She tied it tightly, then made sure she had her knife in its sheath at her waist. It wasn't much protection, but it was all she was allowed. Besides, the chances of her needing it for that reason was slim; she mostly had it for everyday use. The multi-purpose knife was an essential.
She left her tent and went to get Banjin. He wasn't a hard roo to catch. He was kept with the other pack roos at the edge of camp. They were grazing peacefully when she approached. They were all very tame and ignored her.
"Banjin! C'mon, Banjin!" She called, clicking her tongue. A few of them raised their heads. Banjin stood upright and stared at her. She called again and he hopped lazily towards her, stopping a few metres away. Closing the gap between them, she looped the leather harness over his head and adjusted all the belts to fit Banjin. Then she lashed her travel roll as well as a few bottles of water to his back. Taking up the lead rope, she returned to her father.
"Karn reckons the spring is that way." He said, pointing south east. "The feed's good here so we probably won't move on for a while, but it's good to know where water sources are and what the land is like around. I don't think the spring will be too hard to find, you should be able to follow the signs of the land."
Lamana nodded and turned to go, eager to be on her way.
"Lama," her father called suddenly, "if there's any trouble, just tell Banjin home."
Lamana impatiently nodded again and set off, Banjin hopping slowly beside her.
It wasn't hard to find the spring. All Lamana had to do was follow that south easterly direction until she ran into a stream flanked by thick vegetation and greener grass. She pushed through the tough, prickly leaves of the scrub down a small slope and found the clear creek.
"Aha!" She cried in triumph, and skidded down to the bank for a drink. She always preferred drinking from a running stream, specially one this pure and deep. The cool water slid down her dust-parched throat and she drank deeply and satisfyingly. Banjin was enjoying it just as much beside her. She splashed her face, then started upstream to find the spring. She loved exploring and thoroughly enjoyed pushing through the thickets of brush and sometimes scrambling close to the ground to get past.
It took Lamana about an hour to follow the stream back to its source. There had been patches of dense scrub and sparser areas of grass and trees. Lamana pushed away the last branches of a patch of mallee scrub and found herself in a grassy clearing bordered by graceful gums and leafy undergrowth. The stream, at this point not very wide, wound through the clearing like a glittering snake. Lamana could see the spring trickling gently from a gap in some rock at the end of the dell.
Lamana walked into the centre of the clearing and looked around. The dream she had last night suddenly came to mind. It had been a clearing very much like this one that she had walked into.
Without warning she heard a loud rustle to one side of her. She snapped her head around to the place, then looked to Banjin to gauge his reaction. He was watching her with mild interest. She shivered. She could feel a cold, prickling sensation up her spine. She got the feeling she was still dreaming and nothing around her was real.
Another rustle snatched her attention back. Lamana half expected to see some bizarre flying creature lunge out of the bushes in front of her, but it was only the wind.
She watched as leaves and bark swirled restlessly around her. One leaf got caught on the end of her boot. For no particular reason she bent down and picked it up. She was just about to flip it away on the breeze when something on it caught her eye. She brought the leaf to her face and gazed at it in wonder. A tiny picture graced its surface. It was a picture of a strange, mythical beast. The creature looked like a sleek, black dog with neat cat paws and a long cat tail. It had bat-like wings and golden eyes that seemed to follow her.
Lamana sat down in the grass and stared at the perfect picture as if in a trance.
Banjin watched her idly, occasionally dropping to graze.
She could almost see the creature move on the leaf, see its muscles ripple under its sleek coat as it weaved its supple body in and out of branches. She imagined how every slight stirring would set the light on its shiny black coat leaping and writhing, and she was mesmerised.
An hour passed, two hours, three. Lamana was seized by the beauty of the tiny picture on such a simple object as a leaf. It was so accurate, so perfect, so real. It was as if the creature had been captured and trapped inside the leaf.
It was sundown. Lamana looked up suddenly. Banjin pushed his head into her chest. Absently, she unfastened his harness and her travel roll so he could move unhindered, but he wouldn't leave her alone.
She finally got up and went to tie him to a tree, but he eagerly hopped back towards the thick mallee they had come through earlier that day. She called him but he wouldn't come. She gave up. She was way too tired; barely keeping her eyes open. She didn't even have the energy to roll out the sleeping bag or light a fire, so she just flopped down in the soft grass and closed her eyes, falling into the deep oblivion of sleep, her hand still clasping the leaf.
Lamana didn't know if her eyes were open or shut, or whether she was asleep or not. It was so dark. She rolled over and found herself staring into a pair of eerie, light golden eyes within half a metre of her face. They seemed to glow luringly. She watched placidly as the eyes disappeared, then reappeared as the creature that owned them blinked. She held out a hand and felt a cold nose sniff it curiously. The eyes came closer and she could feel the creature's smooth, slippery coat as it brushed past her arm, it was like silk. She forgot everything that mattered, Banjin, her safety, the spring and the leaf still in her hand, as the creature padded around her silently, stroking its lithe body against her like a cat. She giggled when it jumped to her shoulder and rubbed its head on her cheek, licking her ear. She put a hand on its back and found a pair of bat-like wings folded there.
The creature leapt from her shoulder and fluttered a few metres away. It turned to Lamana and she thought it beckoned her. She got up and followed it.
She followed it blindly through the scrub and trees, the leaf still in her hand, but forgotten now. She followed on and on. Then there was a tree, a huge tree, but the creature beckoned. Up she climbed, form branch to branch, up and up. She was so high, in the very top branches. The creature had stopped. The branches swayed. Lamana looked at the leaf in her hand. It was blank. Just an ordinary leaf. She stared at the creature uneasily. It turned away sorrowfully. There was a snap of breaking wood. There was a scream. Then there was silence.

Karn and Lamana's father found Banjin on his way home that morning. They went back to the spring, but all they found was Lamana's untouched travel roll and Banjin's harness. They found tracks Lamana had left and followed them for hours into the bush until they came to an abrupt stop beside a huge tree. Broken branches littered the ground.
The spring was never used. The kangaroos wouldn't go there after dusk anyway.
Lamana's body was never found. Not even a bone carried off by a scavenger. Once, many years afterwards, Lamana's father swore he saw a leaf with a perfect picture of his daughter captured on its surface, caught on the end of his boot. He had bent to have a closer look, but the wind had whisked it away, perhaps forever.