The sun was beginning to set behind the scorched hills, bringing a welcome respite from the intense afternoon heat. Evening time, bringer of long shadows and, if one was very lucky, the sighting of a nightjar or two.

Every dusk she sat on the veranda, binoculars in hand, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive family of birds that lived in the valley. She heard them often, but seldom saw them skipping through the darkening skies, camouflaged as they were against the arid grassland. She exhaled and sipped from her hip-flask, today had been a long day, she wasn’t sad to see the back of it, a spot of twitching should make for a good wind down.

In the distance she spied two specks of movement, tiny dust clouds rumbling along the track that led from the next farm along, a good 15 minute quad ride away.

She trained the binoculars at the dots and slowly came to spy the McCarthy’s two little mutts, tumbling at full pelt.

She’d seen the dogs before, and suppressed a smirk at the idea that two such dainty rats were of any use on a farm. The McCarthys, April and Graham, were an older couple, 60s. Childless too, so she couldn’t help but wonder if these useless yapping lap warmers were plugging a gap. These weren’t thoughts she’d ever air in front of April however, a formidable woman, built like a bison and sharp as a desert fox, despite her penchant for cuddlier canines.

She could hear them now, as they drew closer, yelping relentlessly. The tiny terriers must’ve travelled a good 3km by now, and she was struck by their tenacity. Something had them spooked.

It was then she felt a prickle at the back of her neck, something had her spooked too. There was no way that these dogs could’ve come this far without April noticing their absence. She whipped the binoculars back up to the horizon. Dogs weren’t being followed, a bad sign.

Tension rising she clambered off the porch and jogged down to the dirt road to intercept the panic stricken animals.

Upon seeing her the dogs seemed to tighten their focus, making a direct line for her, barking with even more urgency.

‘What is it boys?’ She asked, in a voice that made her grateful no one else was around. ‘Is someone in trouble?’

The dogs, unsurprisingly, had no answers, but she ushered them into the house all the same and gave them some water. They’d at least be safe there.

Taking a final swig from her flask, she made her way outside and swung onto her quad bike. She revved the engine and sped off in a cloud of dirt and scrunching gravel back in the direction the dogs had come from.

The nightjars would have to wait, in 15 minutes she had a suspicion that an already difficult day was about to get a whole lot worse.