Cubes of wombat poo littered the stones. Everything was damp. Charlie had already abandoned his spectacles as it was impossible to see through them. Driving sleet stung his eyes but by squinting he could just make out the slippery path ahead. Stones gave way to an elevated wooden walkway, separating boot from earth. Sodden centuries of peat beneath endless tufts of button-grass either side of their moorland path lent the air a fermenting smell. It was hard to place that smell. A bit like coal. A bit like compost. A bit like ash. And today it all smelt refrigerated. Charlie estimated from the ashen soil below the tufts, the last grass fire had been less than a year ago. Fire was part of the life cycle of this environment. It had been eighteen months since his last visit and there hadn't been a recent fire through then.

Although Cradle Mountain attracted loads of tourists daily, in this weather, it seemed they had the pathway to themselves. Charlie didn't mind the conditions. Hiking in high country was his favourite escape. He was prepared. Michael on the other hand was already questioning his choice to tag along rather than read his book by the fireplace at the lodge.

Charlie turned to check on his friend, waited a few beats while Michael closed the gap, then flashed him an encouraging smile. 'It'll be OK once we hit the hillside. More sheltered from the scrub t' the lake.' Michael nodded but couldn't convince himself that his idea of "sheltered" and Charlie's were the same. Sleet pattered at his hood. Good thing he had taken Charlie's advice to pack his ski gear for the trip. At least he was warm and dry on the inside.

'What's with this cubed Wombat poo? Weird little buggers!' He knew there was no point complaining to Charlie about the sleet. Cubed wombat poo was the best he could come up with. 'Don't s'pose we'll be lucky enough to spot one?'

Charlie smiled at him again. Despite the freezing wind, Michael warmed. He had almost had to pinch himself when his crush asked him on this adventure. Just the two of them. Alone together at last. 'I reckon any self respecting wombat will be tucked up in its burrow right now.'

Michael's smile gleamed back as warm as campfire. He'd managed to ply a concession from Charlie on the weather even if it was attached to a wombat. It felt like understanding.

Michael leaned to his right and cast his eyes around Charlie's shoulder and up the track lifting his head with one subtle beckoning move. Charlie let him by and brought up the rear. No point leading apace when there was only one path and his charge was not exactly mountain fit.

Now he was there, the view from behind made him glad he'd ceded position. "Might not be mountain fit but he doesn't miss legs day at the gym. And god! That smile!" Charlie couldn't wait to get him up to his favourite spot on the lake. He'd been planning this for weeks now, ever since their little group of uni friends had begun planning this mid-term get away. And now, here they were, just the two of them, on their way up to Crater Lake. Charlie grinned.

...................................

Hardwood crackled and spat its complaints at the grille. Eucalyptus smoke steeped the room and the windows randomly tinked as large bits of sleet spattered against the glass. A chill wind ripped the air outside the building occasionally rattling the glass doors to the porch. Amber and Milo snuggled up together on a huge floor cushion in front of the roaring flames. She'd really wanted to go with the boys but Milo was a big sook in the wet and despite Michael's kind offer she got the vibe that Charlie was on a mission. Amber was now very happy she'd chosen not to be a hindrance. Was this a blizzard? She'd never experienced a blizzard but to her this felt like the beginnings of one. Milo nuzzled his mistress so she felt for that goodly spot behind his ear and rewarded him with a gentle scratch.

'Amber, do you think Charlie will abandon his quest in these conditions?'

'Not sure. He's an experienced hiker. I'm sure he'll be sensible."

'Sensible? Since when was infatuation sensible? Puck must have dropped him a potion I swear. Ever since their eyes met, he's been after Michael with all the subtlety of a donkey.'

'Infatuation? Are you making Charlie out for a stalker?' Amber scrubbed Milo's head. 'Haven't heard Michael complain, have we Milo?'

'True dat! And fancy agreeing to go out in this lovely weather. Gotta be barking.'

'Or Puck really has been busy.'

'One things certain - Tatiana wont be much bothered this time.'

Amber chuckled. 'It's all about the boy!'

'It's all about sex baby.'

'I think Charlie moves slowly in that department.'

'Michael's usually impervious to flirting. He's absolutely smitten with this one.'

'Smitten kittens! They're a big pair of pussy cats. Leave them alone.'

'And they will come home, wagging their tails behind them.'

'Wagging tails? It's wagging tongues is my concern."

Amber, I'm going to get a hot chocolate. Would you like one?'

'Do they have marshmallows? I'll have marshmallows on mine please.'

'Ooh "La, de, da!" Marshmallows, hot chocolate, an open fire and a devoted companion to cuddle. I see you gurlfriend!'

'Ask them for a bag. Maybe you could toast some for me? ... Sweetie!'

'Anything else madam? An endless packet of timtams perhaps?'

'Thanks Genie. The hot chocolate and the marshmallows will be fine .. for now."

Genie flung their hair extensions theatrically and performed their best twirl in their fabulous new patent red leather over the knee boots. Milo looked lazily up at the commotion then dropped his head back on the cushion with a yawn. Amber heard the twist of leather on floorboard and a repeated squeak every second pace. She'd smelled the brand new leather even over the eucalyptus smoke. She wondered what the price in blisters might be for that. Not for Amber. Sensible shoes all the way.

....….......................................

They'd had to leave the lodge early, before the first bus, to be allowed to drive on the restricted road to Cradle Mountain itself. So Charlie had parked the rental in a small car park near Mount Kate House which was the last bus stop before that awful concrete tourist bunker at the end of the road. Charlie knew where to come if ever he needed use of a nuclear bomb shelter, but the brutalism of it being dropped like a monument to urban utility right into this world heritage wilderness area, and at Dove Lake no less, without one tiny skerrick of charm nor the slightest nod to rusticity, really goaded him. Charlie detested that building. So Charlie did not want that to become Michael's first impression of his beloved Cradle Mountain. This walk might be a bit tough on a day like today, but he expected once Michael saw that monstrosity he would understand. So across the peat moor they trekked. Making their way between the Crater Creek wetlands and Waldheim to join the Overland Track.

Charlie had hoped to hike up to Crater Lake and onward to Face Track in the lee of Cradle Mountain itself to show Michael the view from just below Little Horn down onto Wilks Lake and Dove Lake. He'd pictured that moment as he brought his face right beside Michael's so Michael could see exactly where he was pointing as he showed him the landmarks. Then they'd walk on to The Twisted Lakes and Lake Hudson before heading back to that embarrassing bunker for a short bus trip to collect the car. But not today. It was a pity, but the mountain must be respected and it was a moody thing. If they were lucky and the weather got no worse, they might make it to Crater Lake then up to the ridge at Marions Lookout to view Dove lake. On a good day it was magic. Today would be brutal on that barren ridge. Charlie had been caught up there in a freak snow storm once. The wind nearly gored the skin off his face. The burn was so intense his nose and cheeks actually peeled in the following week. It was not for the faint hearted. No! Today, unless the weather improved, they would hike to the hut on Crater Lake then up through the alpine trees to capture some lake views then turn back before the exposed ridge. Yes, that would have to do today.

Soon enough Charlie found himself following Michael across Ronny Creek. The water skipped beneath the bridge like it was on its way to a party. Charlie knew the party was ahead. Crater Falls awaited. On they trekked. Once they reached the first shelter of scrub, they stopped for a drink and a quick break.

Despite the freezing conditions, Michael was hot. The ski jacket was the business. He started unzipping the vents for more airflow. Charlie beamed at him.

'Onwards to the falls then? When we get to the fork, we take the Overland Track to the left. That goes up to Crater Lake.'

'Crater Lake? What, like a glacial crater?'

'Yep. All these lakes were carved out by glaciers which long since melted.'

'WOW! Sounds amazing.'

Michael could hear the contralto musings of Currawongs calling at each other. They were utterly enchanting. He was surprised because he'd only ever heard them up north. 'What's a Currawong doing way down here in Tassie?'

'Oh there's Currawongs here alright. Big black yellow-eyed bombarder's. They'll swoop down like Spitfires and steal the food right out of your hand while you're eating.'

'No shit?'

'No lunch if you're caught off guard.'

Michael handed Charlie the water bottle, waited for him to stow it then continued up the path.

.............................

'What can I get you... mam?'

'Daaarling! I have this little itch.'

Corey Baker smirked and handed "her?" the café menu.

Genie pretended to study the menu. 'So what's a face for the silver screen doing behind the café counter in a remote mountain lodge?'

'Paying the bills.'

'Boring! Spill. What? That's it? Nothing else going on in your future?'

'Oh, why, you got a shiny crystal ball handy?'

'I got shiny killer boots, will that do?'

'Depends what your feet are like when they're off.'

'Got any marshmallows?'

'Sounds like this is likely to get sticky.'

'I want two very rich hot chocolate's with marshmallows on top and a packet for toasting on the fire.'

'Two hot chocolate's with marshmallow's and a fireman coming right up.'

'I promise to be careful.'

'Have you tried the boozy hot chocolate from the bar?'

'Boozy hot chocolate?'

'Yeah, you know, hot chocolate drowned in booze.'

'Sounds divine.'

'Try the Berry Ripe.'

'Berry ripe?'

'Hot chocolate, chambord, malibu. I'm sure they'll add marshmallows if you ask.'

'Oh I'll ask.'

'Sixteen thanks.'

'Can you charge it to room 69?'

'Only if you're over sixteen.'

'Guilty as charged.'

'Name?'

'Roberts.'

To Corey's surprise the room number and name matched on his tablet. He bet Doug at reception took one look at those boots and shuffled the bookings just for amusement. Room sixty nine was right next to the metal gangway to the car park. I straddled a shallow gully just outside the lodge. Most customers complained about the noise at night from people plodding across it a night. It was only usually filled as the last available room. Corey knew the lodge was not fully booked. 'Arrive today?'

'Oh? Yes. Along with the ice machine outside.'

'Don't worry, tomorrow should be quite a good day. The weather here is very changeable.'

'Hey, no complaints from me. I've got hot chocolate, marshmallows, a companion, a furry companion, a roaring log fire and killer heels. It's our two lovestruck hikers out on the mountain I'm worried for.'

'What? They went hiking in this?'

'They left early this morning before it got nasty.'

'I hope they have the sense to take shelter.'

'Well Amber's says her friend Charlie is well prepared. Apparently he's been up here a few times."

'So this Amber and Charlie are out in this now?'

'Oh God no! Michael and Charlie are the suckers. Amber and Milo are with me in the lounge. Um, I better take these to Amber or they'll be cold and sad as a wet pussy by the time I get to the lounge.'

'Enjoy!'

'Don't forget to send the hunky fireman.'

'She's actually a size 24 army reserver.'

'Then I really do promise to be careful.'

Corey watched the boots as they squeaked away into the corridor then dialled reception.

'Corey! What's up?'

'Just met the room sixty niner. She for real?'

'You mean are they for real.'

'There's more than one of them?'

'Well yes... but no. I mean pronouns Corey.'

'Pronouns.'

'Don't be a dinosaur Corey. Yes. Pronouns!.'

The line fell silent for a few moments. 'He, she, they.." '

'Oh! You mean?'

'No Corey, I do not mean a cock in a frock.'

'What then. A trannie?'

'Not necessarily no.'

'Doug, what are you talking?'

'Jesus Corey! Let me tell you a little story about the birds, the bees and a gender spectrum.'

'Gender spectrum?'

'Corey, you really need to get put of your comfort zone.'

'Why? I'm perfectly uncomfortable here.'

'Don't you have coffee to grind?'

'At least I don't come here with an axe to grind.'

'Who's grinding an axe? Corey, they're just being themselves.'

'In sixteen inch red leather boots and a cream tartan skirt.'

'Oh so now were the fashion police and grandpa kettle?'

'Freak of an outfit for up here.'

'Takes all sorts Corey.'

'Room sixty nine. They'll be pissed when they're up all night with the gantry banging.'

'Yeah. Oh well. I can move them tomorrow if they complain. I gotta get my kicks somehow. Bored spitless.'

'Ok Bye. Coffee to grind.'

'Guests to placate. See ya T-Rex.'

..............................