Yara-Ma-Yha-Who (Part 1 of 4)

The sweat salted her lips, chapping them. When she wiped at it with her wrist lip scum balled up and clung to the back of her hand, which she cleaned on her shorts, gross. She liked to sweat, specially in a breeze. The taste made her feel healthy. Today she also relished the way her singlet clung to her belly to make her breasts look perkier, score.

Levi walked the trail Patrick, her new German friend. This would be their first night together alone, going-bush. He had called from behind for them to rest, and sat himself down on a shelf of sandstone at the edge of the track.

"Long walk, yah," he said, "You walk fast." He checked his fat divers watch, "Nearly four hours."

Levi smiled inwardly. His breasts look perkier too, hugged by his damp t-shirt. He had a tennis player’s body. The straps of his backpack highlighted his pectoral muscles nicely; and the accent, wow. It sounded like poetry to Levi, rapid vowels and rounded consonants.

She said, "It's you who walks slowly. Don’t be such a girl," and shrugged off her backpack to let it fall to the ground. She took a deep breath, relieved to be rid of the weight. She stuck out her chest and pulled her elbows back until joints in her spine and ribs popped pleasantly, gristly.

"It's a nine hour walk," she continued, "just to get to the falls. I think we’ve made pretty good time. Tomorrow will be the hardest; all the way back is up-hill. Sure you can hack it?"

"I don't know. You might have to carry me, yah?"

"Ha, you carry me, I'm the smaller one."

"You are the fit one." he grinned.

Levi blew at her upper lip to send a mist of sweat flying in his direction, and laughed. She pulled her singlet top up to wipe her face, exposing her abdomen and her sports bra. Go on, look, she thought, and he did. It was cute when he realised he was staring, he quickly turned to examining the sandstone next to him, like it was real interesting.

"Not so fit, you see" she said, comically pinching a small roll of tummy fat, which also made a pleasing wet slapping sound when she performed a short drum beat with both hands.
"Ok, you’re right, I will carry you, little piggy."

Levi's mouth dropped in fained offence and she punched his arm. She connected square on the bone. He surely felt that. He began rubbing the spot with a slightly sour look on his face, take that.

"Oh it didn't hurt that much, you big-girl’s-blouse."

"What blouse?"

She laughed, "Just a phrase. Here, pass your water would you?" she said.

The water was warm, but she sucked air in through her teeth to cool her mouth.

"It is beautiful here though, isn’t it?"

They had been walking so hard, rarely taking in their surroundings, only the screaming cicadas, flies, and heat mattered. Too busy focusing on their footing, hearing the blood pumping in their ears, and feeling the burn on their calves and thighs to pay attention to the beauty of the bush; too careful of the roots that were knitted into the track.

The cicadas were in epic numbers this season, their screeching was nonstop, and impossible to pinpoint any single sources. Only every six to seven years they would swarm like this. Levi couldn't remember the last time, certainly never remembered them being so loud. They Lived and matured underground, feeding off tree sap from the roots. Then something would call to them, and en masse they emerge to transform and find their mate, sexy little beasts. The male produces the sound through ribbed membranes at the base of their hollow abdomen, which amplifies the pulses like a resonance chamber. Hours of the noise had desensitized the two walkers.

The piercing drone could be filtered out, but when the sound suddenly stopped they felt its absence immediately. The landscape became dead quiet, eerie. A bushfire had swept the valley last year, leaving the charred skeletons of trees. The effect reminded Levi of black-and-white photos where only one element had been colorized. The shrubs had not yet bounced back, leaving much of the area wide open. The harsh grasses were the first to return, near colourless pastel browns and greys. The bushfire blackened trees stood stark, crooked. Low bushes and sharp grasses had carpeted the valley descent. No bird calls, no rustling leave, just the their own heartbeats.

The walkers had learned that day that nothing would silence the male cicada. It isn’t just a mating call, it’s a defence against predators. Patrick had picked one off a tree to examine it, and it had continued its song, causing Patrick to toss the thing into the bush and ring out his ears with a finger, loud.

From out the silence came something curious, a voice of sorts. It came in much the same way as the cicada’s song, from all directions at once, but at the far opposite end of the sound spectrum, a low bass. It throbbed down in their chest more than in their ears. The sounds came slow and pronounced.

"Ohya wobwah who"

The two walkers looked at one another, almost amused by the sound, it being such a strange sensation.

Again the sound resonated through them, "Awah ma who who."

Levi had the impression she could see the long waves of sound distort the air, but that might have been the heat, an illusion. The throb came from all around her, as if she stood inside a deep fleshy drum, wobbling out a slow bass beat.

"What is that?" said Patrick.

“I don't know. A bird? A big owl. Maybe a toad?"

They listened in silence, but the voice did not come again. The cicada’s song built once more, and it reached its usual desperate intensity. The song was painful to Levi's actively straining ears.