The trek to the pass was bittersweet. Ghosts of lost friends travelled with them. Bear and Daniel. The bafflingly beautiful tiger cubs. Yet this time Luke had Belle by his side, and there was no longer any obstacle to their love. The greatest consolation of all.
She let down her hair, wore boots and men’s trousers, threw off the trappings of civilisation. He revelled in her wild beauty. At night they shared a swag, her body melting into him beneath the burning Southern Cross.
‘It feels like we’re marching to the roof of the world,’ she said, gazing over the distant peaks. ‘We’ll take the dogs next year. Show Bruno his great-grandfather’s grave. We’ll be pilgrims.’
Luke loved the idea. He loved it even more that Belle was making plans for a future together. It made their relationship seem less like a dream.
On the third day, with eyes wide open, he led her into Tiger Pass. Nothing had changed. Still the hushed expectancy as the birds fell quiet. Still the sense of hallowed reverence sending shivers up his spine. Belle sighed and they exchanged glances. The pass was working its magic on them both.
‘You were being hunted last time,’ said Belle. ‘Does this place scare you now?’
He gestured wide, to the blue ceiling of sky. To the craggy cliff walls of the natural cathedral. To the ancient forest and timeless stream. Each seemed to whisper: In our end lies our beginning.
‘Scare me?’ he said. ‘It would be like being scared of heaven.’
He led Belle to the rock platform above the waterfall. The stream broke into a rainbow as it cascaded down the overhang.
‘It really is a hanging valley.’ She turned to him with bright eyes. ‘And I thought our little waterfall back at Binburra was lovely.’
The time had finally come. Luke took the rose-cut diamond ring from his pocket and slipped it on her finger.
It was dark and still in the cave by the old Huon pine tree. Belle collected some waratahs and Luke found an old pot for water. They placed the makeshift vase of flowers before the cairn Daniel had built to mark Bear’s grave. They took off their hats, and stood a long while in silence, each thinking private thoughts.
Luke turned on his torch, showed her the rock art on the ceiling, the drawing of the tiger. Then he aimed it at the ground. The square stone-set brass plate gleamed on the rock floor.
Belle read the words out loud. ‘In loving memory of Luke Tyler and his loyal dog Bear. My heart is forever yours. Bluebell.’ She knelt to touch the letters. ‘I asked Papa to put it there. I was never sure if he did or not.’
‘When I came here and read that plaque, it gave me courage to hope.’
He felt for her hand, and they moved through the shored-up tunnel, through the immense rockfall that could so easily have been his tomb. Down the ancient stone steps that led to the valley below.
Luke took Belle on a tour. ‘This is where I found Old Clarry’s treasure.’ He pointed to the high stone ledge. ‘The man lived like a penniless hermit, when he was surrounded by riches. See here?’ He scrubbed away at the cave wall with the sleeve of his shirt, then trained his torch on it. A shining vein ran diagonally across the rocks. ‘This is a valley of gold.’
Belle trailed her fingers along the bright seam. ‘Edward can never find out about this place. Nobody can.’
They camped that night beside the singing falls. Luke lit a fire. He could almost see King and his sisters coming back from the hunt, flinging their panting bodies down in the circle of warmth cast by the flames.
They stayed up late, talking, reconnecting. The moon rode high in the sky when they finally crept into their swag.
‘I’m taking you to Africa to see Themba,’ said Luke, as Belle fitted her body to his. ‘I want you to come face-to-face with an elephant. I want you to hold a lion cub and see giraffes drink by the river at sunset. I want to share the last sixteen years of my life.’
‘Shh . . .’ whispered Belle. ‘Listen.’
All he could hear was the waterfall and the throaty music of frogs. Then, echoing through the night, came the eerie call of a tiger.