There it was, Goldilocks’ Tomb, nestling amongst the last stand of green trees, as if, somehow, that small area had been protected from the ravages of the forest fires, protected by some unknown force. Yet the Tomb itself lay open...

Many years after the water came, our small tribe turned our grey rock into a living, breathing organism. This is that story.

He was gazing moodily down at the sea when Gabriel found him.