The path led down across the slope to a rocky creek which was green and moist with mosses and ferns, then up again to the drier slope on the other side. He stopped at the creek, dropped his pack and drank deeply from a water bottle. In the distance he caught the sound of voices and looked around. The voices were coming from upstream. Quietly, he picked his way over mossy rocks along the bank of the creek. Through the trees he glimpsed movement and froze instinctively. He recognised women’s voices and a smile flittered across his face.

He worked his way closer and found a group of women who had settled in a small clearing by the creek. He looked around their temporary camp - day packs lay on the ground along with cups, plates and the remains of a meal. They were of mixed ages and he thought he recognised a family resemblance in their thick hair and dark eyes. One woman was reading a book, while two young women, just out of girlhood, were bent together over something he couldn’t see. A golden skinned woman with short hair was leaning against a tree twisting a vine into some shape.

A tallish brunette walked into the clearing and began singing a tune he didn’t recognise. The two young women looked up and joined in - their voices blending strongly. The woman by the tree began to clap a rhythmic beat, the other woman lowered her book and looked up. One of the girls pulled her to her feet and began a conga line - the five of them threaded their way through the clearing - weaving and stepping to the rhythm as they sang.

He smiled at this piece of craziness by the creek and looked around at the quiet bush around him. His eye was caught by a small bird in a nearby bush. The life of the forest hummmed while the song of the women wove a clear rhythm behind it.

Watching the bird, his eyes suddenly focused on a face in the bushes behind it. He felt a jolt as he briefly made out the features of a woman studying him before she pulled back out of sight. Swifty, he crossed to where he had seen her, but found no sign of her. He looked around and a movement caught the corner of his eye - a branch regained its stillness. He moved forward, but again the bushes seemed empty. The song of the women broke up into talk and desultory lines of song. He turned back towards them and examined the image of the watcher in his mind. He had caught a glimpse of serious brown eyes in a pale face and seemed to picture brown curls - or was that the effect of the bush she was peering through?

He stepped behind a tree and looked out on the clearing again. The older woman had gone back to her book while the others were picking their way over the rocks of the stream, bending now and then to look closely at leaves and moss, water and stones. He stood a while watching the casual scene and found himself assessing the face of one, smooth movement of another. He found his gaze returning to the confident brunette who had started the song. He was tempted to step forward but hesitated to change the scene.

He leaned against the tree and took in the dappled light of the clearing, the movement of an arm or leg, the tilt of a head, a shared look. In the still air, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck and knew she was watching him again. He paused and thought for a moment - how to catch this ephemeral creature? His face lightened as an idea came.

Still looking towards the clearing, he slipped off his pack and felt around in it. He found a book and settled down to read it. After a few moments he smiled into the book, then chuckled. He read on - his thoughts showing on his expressive face. He heard a small sound but seemed to be engrossed in the book. Time passed. The small noises of the women in the clearing hung in the air. He had placed her now - knew she was to his left. He took a breath and readied himself - then leaped to his feet and raced to the place. Already she had turned and was running between the trees. He smiled and knew he had her. He followed on her heels, gaining ground though she was faster than he expected. Within reach, he grasped her shoulder, she twisted and fell heavily. He was on top of her. She struggled briefly then lay still, breathing heavily, her face turned away.

He felt her fear and shock. And suddenly regretted his strength. He eased his hold but she didn’t move. He sat back. Slowly she sat up, keeping her face down. He saw a long graze up her thigh where she had fallen.

"Damn," he thought, "Well, she didn’t have to run."

"Come now," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head without lifting it. She looked very small to him.

"Come now," he said, lifting her face. He saw her face, but her look was closed to him. He wished heartily that he had ignored the sound of voices at the creek.

"Are you with the others?" he asked and saw her nod. "Let’s go back then," he said standing above her and holding out a hand. He saw her wince as she moved to her feet. She flicked a glance at him and he wondered whether he saw a softening of her look.

Near the clearing, he stopped. She glanced at him. "You won’t need me now," he said quietly. Her face clouded with brief puzzlement then she turned away. A moment later she turned back to him. She touched his arm and looked up into his face, "I’m sorry," she said in a voice deeper than he expected. Surprised by her quick movement, he didn’t quite know what to say.

He looked into her open face and saw the grave eyes framed by dark brown curls that he had first glimpsed. He wanted to reach out and hold this creature, but she was already moving towards the clearing. He knew better now than to try to grasp her, instead he watched the humble figure in the drab shirt and shorts walking into the clearing so quietly that the others hardly noticed her. Taking off her boots, she waded into the creek and washed the graze on her leg. He stood a little while watching all of them - the confident brunette, the vine weaver, the reader, the two young women and the quiet watcher. He felt the flavour of his responses to each of them.

As he continued on his way, his thoughts played around them all, but hovered most around the quick shyness of the ephemeral watcher.