Quieting Quolls

• Claire Goode, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2017

A clearing untouched by humans - humans who destroy everything - lay hidden deep inside a forest. Small, furry animals flecked the space. Some stood, some slept. Others had seen their last sunrise. Jink, a young Eastern Quoll, wandered towards a motionless lump of fur. He sniffed the rigid quoll and then reared back. An acrid scent filled the air around the catlike mammal. Jink coughed in disgust.
“What’s that smell?” he cried to the quolls watching.
None answered, only turned their heads away with pained eyes.
“It’s the smell of death.” Jink jumped at a growling voice behind him.
Grief-stricken moans filled the air. He realised, these quolls were not sleeping, and they were dead.
A choking sound caught his attention. Jink turned to see a fawn quoll hacking so hard, looking wiped out. The violent foaming around his mouth was clear evidence that the bait was about to claim an unintended victim.
Suddenly, a panicked cry sounded from the clearing. “HELP!! A fox!! Run!”
A frantic Eastern Quoll pelted past. He slowed, wincing in pain. Deep claw marks scored right down his side. Blood seeped from the wound. The quoll limped slowly to a stop. Slower than a fox.
The injured quoll urged Jink to run for his life. Jink stayed. He had had enough. There was too much death, too much grief. Ignoring the warning, he sprinted across the clearing towards the young male. Nuzzling him forward, Jink urged him not to give up. Halfway across the clearing, a snarl stopped them in their tracks. Jink turned slowly. A muscular fox stood in front of him. Jink’s heart pounded so hard that he felt it would burst from his chest. The fox took a step closer, licking its lips, preparing to taste blood on his tongue.
Jink heard crashing; the crashing of something big. He stuck his nose in the air. Humans! Jink closed his eyes, waiting for the cold fingers of death to drag him in, as it had consumed so many other quolls.
A thundering sound split through the air. He waited and waited. Is this death? Is this what it feels like? Jink peeked open his eyes to see the fox laying limp on the ground. A giant hairless creature stood panting over the fox’s body, fury alight in its eyes.
It glanced in dismay at all the dead Eastern Quolls. After what seemed like several seasons, the human’s eyes rested on Jink and the wounded quoll. It approached them slowly. Jink backed away, scared of what this two-legged creature might do.
Jink was overwhelmed and tired of running from his fears. He gave into this unfortunate death. There was no escaping now. He lay limp, without protesting, when the long, pale, pink paws reached towards him. The human, appearing a hundred times the size of him, started stroking Jink’s spine gently. Exhausted, Jink drifted off to sleep. Maybe this isn’t such a bad death after all…
“It’s okay, fella. You’re safe now.” the human gently soothed.