Lachie Mortlock Character Analysis

Her legs shook; her whole body was racked with shudders. […] She never should have brought Lachie here; she should have protected the secret. Crow’s place.

“Lachie,” she said, with sudden desperation. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone about this place.”

[…] “Okay, mate. It’s your special place, is it? I won’t tell anyone.”

Not my special place, thought Sadie. It belongs to the crows. But she didn’t say it aloud.

Craig leaned into David’s face and lowered his voice. “Found something very interesting on my land. Aboriginal artefacts. Wondered if you could tell me what they’d be worth.”

“You should be pleased! Look at all these people, experiencing a bit of Aboriginal culture!” He waved his arm at the men sprawled against the rocks, their boots resting on the carvings, their cans tossed into the centre of the circle.

“The story goes on, as it always goes on. The Law is broken and there is punishment. The dead cannot live again, but what was taken from the clever man must be returned. When the Law is broken the world is broken. The circle must be joined again.”

“We can’t leave him here!” Sadie was weeping. “If we leave him here, he will die!” She tried to lift Lachie’s head. He moaned, his face drained of colour.

The story tells itself again...

The three of them were in the grip of Crow’s story, just as Gerald and Clarry and Jimmy had been. But Crow couldn’t see, Crow couldn’t help them. Sadie was the only one who knew; it was all up to her.

“Bethany reckons he killed himself. Our great-grandpa,” said Lachie. “Because of the war. Posttraumatic stress or whatever. It was years after he came back. The family made out it was an accident. But Bethany thinks it was because of what he’d seen. What he’d been through.”

What he’d done, thought Sadie.

Together they planted [Jimmy Raven’s] marker in the ground at the place the crow had shown them.

“I should have brought some flowers or something,” said Sadie.

“Next time,” Walter said.

“Give us a hand?” Lachie called.

The three of them moved around the tiny graveyard, straightening the fallen crosses, digging them more firmly into the ground.

“That’s better,” said Lachie at last, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “Maybe we should build a fence round it or something.”

“We’d help you,” said Sadie.

“Make a real headstone for Jimmy, too,” said Walter.

“Yeah,” said Lachie.

Her legs shook; her whole body was racked with shudders. […] She never should have brought Lachie here; she should have protected the secret. Crow’s place.

“Lachie,” she said, with sudden desperation. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone about this place.”

[…] “Okay, mate. It’s your special place, is it? I won’t tell anyone.”

Not my special place, thought Sadie. It belongs to the crows. But she didn’t say it aloud.

Craig leaned into David’s face and lowered his voice. “Found something very interesting on my land. Aboriginal artefacts. Wondered if you could tell me what they’d be worth.”

“You should be pleased! Look at all these people, experiencing a bit of Aboriginal culture!” He waved his arm at the men sprawled against the rocks, their boots resting on the carvings, their cans tossed into the centre of the circle.

“The story goes on, as it always goes on. The Law is broken and there is punishment. The dead cannot live again, but what was taken from the clever man must be returned. When the Law is broken the world is broken. The circle must be joined again.”

“We can’t leave him here!” Sadie was weeping. “If we leave him here, he will die!” She tried to lift Lachie’s head. He moaned, his face drained of colour.

The story tells itself again...

The three of them were in the grip of Crow’s story, just as Gerald and Clarry and Jimmy had been. But Crow couldn’t see, Crow couldn’t help them. Sadie was the only one who knew; it was all up to her.

“Bethany reckons he killed himself. Our great-grandpa,” said Lachie. “Because of the war. Posttraumatic stress or whatever. It was years after he came back. The family made out it was an accident. But Bethany thinks it was because of what he’d seen. What he’d been through.”

What he’d done, thought Sadie.

Together they planted [Jimmy Raven’s] marker in the ground at the place the crow had shown them.

“I should have brought some flowers or something,” said Sadie.

“Next time,” Walter said.

“Give us a hand?” Lachie called.

The three of them moved around the tiny graveyard, straightening the fallen crosses, digging them more firmly into the ground.

“That’s better,” said Lachie at last, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “Maybe we should build a fence round it or something.”

“We’d help you,” said Sadie.

“Make a real headstone for Jimmy, too,” said Walter.

“Yeah,” said Lachie.