The suburb of Hamersley was just a small collection of houses on the outskirts of Perth. The population was low and the majority of people who lived there were families, with lots of children who liked to all play in the streets or park together. The children ranged in ages from about 2 to nineteen and they could usually all be seen rolling around in the gutters together, following Liam, trying to be one of his gang, one of ‘Taylor’s Kids’. Jon’s older brothers liked to make an appearance from time to time. They were a good deal older than Jon, being more young men than teenagers, and they liked to scare the younger kids.

“You see Mr. Hammond?”
”Uh huh. He hates kids playing outside his house.”

“Yeah, if you keep doing it when he tells you not to, he lets his dog out on you.”

“No he doesn’t!” Dan exploded in response to this.

Everyone knew Mr. Hammond’s dog was a great brown German Sheperd, a terrifying beast that lived in his bag garden and leapt up at the fence, almost tearing down the planks of wood, and barking madly as people walked passed.

“He does.” Jon’s brother said sincerely, “He said he left the gate open ‘on purpose’ so he never got arrested.”
”For what?” Dan had asked, drawn in as Jon and Liam rolled their eyes.

“For when his dog ate the boy.” Jon’s brother shrugged, turning away, “I’m just warning you.”

“No way.” Dan said, turning to Jon and Liam, “Is he lying Jon?”

“Knowing his truthfulness.” Jon said, “Yes.”

Even so, all three boys skirted carefully around Mr. Hammond’s gate, just in case it was a-jar.

            When the Podium weren’t congregating on the street in a mass game of football or cricket, they were in the wilderness which extended to the back of Liam’s house. They liked to believe this tangle of wood and dried grasses and the dried creek was on the very cusp of the Great Western Australian Outback and they thought that if they kept going they would end up Alice Springs or Sydney. In reality, if they’d kept walking, they’d have probably just ended up in Warwick, the site of their would be High School. Gripweed lived in this Wilderness and he could come crawling out occasionally to see the Podium was they came passed.

            One hot evening after school, Jon, Dan and Liam were sitting in Gripweed’s base, drinking some suspicious tea that Gripweed had poured from a suspicious kettle. Dan sipped a bit and then quickly poured the rest over Liam’s fence.

“Where are you going today?” Gripweed asked, draining his cup, “Going to the Creek?”
Liam shrugged.

“What about Cricket?” Dan said.

There came mumbled dissent at this.

“What about the Black Spot?” Gripweed said.

All three boys sat up.

“The black spot?” Liam said, “What’s this?”

“Oh.” Gripweed said vaguely, “The tangle of dead bushes on the other side of the creek.”
”The other side of the Creek?” Dan said, “My mum said I’m not allowed to go across there. We could get lost in the outback.”
”Dan, your mum won’t let you get your Wellington boots muddy.” Jon said, “And you have to wash your hands before you go upstairs.”

“I’ve never been to the black spot.” Liam said.

“Good thing too.” Gripweed said, pouring another cup of his tea. Liam looked around, wondering how the kettle was plugged in, “A wolf lives in there.”

Dan and Liam looked on in awe.

“A wolf?”
Jon nodded, “My brother said he saw it.”
”Your brother is a liar.” Dan said.

“You can go and see if it’s true.” Gripweed said, standing up and stretching.

“Aren’t you coming?” Dan asked.

Gripweed shook his head and patted his trolley, “Sorry. I have some things to go and collect from the park. Good luck though.”
The Podium looked at one another. Liam shrugged and leapt to his feet like a jack in the box.

“Let’s go then.” He said, “Thanks for the tea Gripweed.”
Gripweed tapped his imaginary cap and watched the three boys extract themselves from his tarpaulin and walk away, into the wilderness.

            At that time of year, the wilderness was very green and lush. The grasses had not yet been cooked in the Australian Sun and the canopy over head was rich and thick, providing the boys with shelter as they headed down to the creek. Liam led the way, chopping back the larger thistles and blades with a stick he had found. Jon came next, following his path and Dan brought up the rear, talking loudly and not pausing for answer.

            They all leapt across the creek- Dan pausing only momentarily, casting a glance over his shoulder just to double check his mother wasn’t following them- and then looked around. The Black Spot, as Gripweed had called it, was well named. It was a great hunk of dried, twisted, dead branches and brittle bushes, encased in piles and piles of leaves from years gone by. This mass, this Black Spot lay about fifteen yards from the creek, towards the Outback.

“That it?” Dan asked, standing beside Liam as he had Jon gazed at the twisted mass of thorns and dead foliage.

“I heard of this place.” Jon said, “A witch lives in there- My brother told me.”

“Yeah.” Liam nodded, “Robbie called it the Dead Trees. He said a badger lives in there which eats people.”

“Robbie?” Dan frowned.

“The boy who used to live across the road.” Liam said, “You met him.”
”Oh yeah.”
”Come on then.” Jon said, nudging Liam to lead, “Off we go.”

            They raced over to the Black Spot and then got down onto their hands and knees and crawled inside. It was like someone had flicked the light off. Darkness surrounded them and they all bumped into one another in the gloom. The branches were pointed and spindly and stung when they pricked skin and the floor was littered with thousands of thorns which stuck into the boys’ hands. As they progressed deeper and deeper into the undergrowth, they kept looking about for any sign of witch or badger or wolf, but there was none. The only sign of life was the multitude of spiders that scuttled along the floor, all over their hands, making Dan squeak and squirm.

            Presently, the Black Spot ended and the Podium was thrust out onto the edge of the outback. Before them, Western Australia lay in rich golden sunshine, stretching for miles and miles and miles.

“Wow.” Dan said, standing up and dusting down his hands, “Look! I can see Sydney!”

He pointed to a collection of houses on the horizon- Warwick- and gasped in amazement. He looked over his shoulder at the Black Spot.

“And there were no witches or anything.” Liam said, sitting down and taking off his shoes, “Damn, my shoes are filled with thorns and things.”

            He sat, scraping the bits of wood and things out, whilst Jon and Dan surveyed the scene.

“Let’s go back through the creek.” Dan said.

“Why? Are you scared of going back in there?” Jon asked, jerking his head into the Black Spot.

“No!” Dan said defensively, “I just don’t want to get prickled again and Liam doesn’t want his shoes full of thorns.”

“Don’t I?” Liam said, looking up.

Dan stuck out his tongue and picked up one of Liam’s shoes.

“If you do.” He said and threw it into the bushes, “There you go.”

Jon roared with laughter. Liam hit Dan on the elbow.

“Dan!” he said, “You’re so annoying.”

            He dropped down to his hands and knees and began to crawl back into the Black Spot, looking for his shoe.

“You go on to the Creek.” He said over his shoulder, “I’ll catch up. Don’t touch my other shoe Green.”

He heard Dan laugh and Jon say something and then the Black Spot truly engulfed him and he was left to crawl through the twisted maze on his own.

            He found the shoe in no time- a bright beacon of semi white rubber in the darkness. As he sat to fit it onto his foot, he spotted something in the darkness before him. A pair of shining, yellow eyes, surrounded by thick black fur. Liam crouched, frozen to the spot, staring at the eyes as they stared back. A low growl arose from the depths of the fur and the hair on the back of Liam’s neck stood up. A wolf.

            The beast’s hackles rose before his eyes and it bent low, ready to pounce. Liam let out an involuntary cry and the wolf howled and leapt forward. Liam fell over backwards and rolled up and over, onto his feet and read to run. He did run. He wasn’t the Hawk for nothing. He leapt through the Black Spot, thorns tearing his skin, pulling his hair, ignoring the pain, until he burst out on the edge of the Outback. He didn’t run across here, towards Sydney though, for the wolf would surely catch him over such open ground. Instead, he veered sharply to the left, heading back to the Creek and the Wilderness.

            He sprinted through the bigger branches, knocking them aside, ignoring nettles and twisted roots. He could hear the wolf behind him, all the way. He ran faster, dodging great trees that blocked his path, vaulting piles of old logs, landing in the creek with a splash. Jon and Dan were no where in sight. Behind him, the branches shook and roared with the approaching wolf. Liam put on a burst of speed, branches ripping his face, clothes and hair, tearing at his skin and drawing blood. He didn’t care, he ran on, barely bothering to swat them aside. He could hear crashes and yelps from behind as the wolf pursued him through the tangles and trees.

            A great ditch loomed up, a tributary to the creek. Liam ran at full pelt towards the ditch and jumped. His body soared gracefully through the air, his legs tucked up into his body, his arms hanging lower than his knees. He flew straight over the ditch and landed painfully on the track beyond.

            He rolled over and looked back at the way he had run. There was no sign of anything. The wilderness had fallen silent. A bird chirped. Liam let out a long, low sigh of relief and fell back onto the track, resting his hot forehead against the cold surface of dirt. Then he hauled himself to his feet and started along the track, towards home. Jon and Dan still weren’t around and he supposed they had taken another route back.

            The trees leaned overhead, blocking out the sun and Liam shivered, suddenly cold. He pictured a lonesome figure, walking home in this gloom, stalked by a great, brown wolf. His imagination got the better of him and he broke into a trot and finally, a sprint.

            He reached his garden fence, Gripweed’s base now empty, and vaulted it, landing in his garden. As he crossed the lawn, finally safe, he turned to observe the wilderness, in all it’s mysterious depths. He could hear the birds twittering, the swaying of branches in the breeze and, in the distance, the unmistakable sound of Mr. Hammond calling for his dog to come home.