‘We will go,’ agreed Singkepe at once.

‘Please, wait a minute.’

Haltingly, in the local dialect, Mia asked the witch doctor if he knew Kinsame. His dark eyes widened in surprise as she explained her connection, and that it was important that the soldier not know what she was saying, because she needed rescue.

The witch doctor glanced sidelong at Singkepe before nodding.

‘Orait, you stap. Nau lets fiksim dispela.’

Together they crouched beside Douglas and Mia removed the bandage.

On seeing the wound, the witch doctor exhaled sharply.

‘Supsup bilong banara?’

Mia nodded and took the cassowary arrowhead from her top pocket.

‘Dispela.’

Frowning, he opened his bilum, and withdrew a large semi-dried plant leaf which he used to carefully pick up the claw. She asked why the one residing in his nose wasn’t dangerous, too.

‘Hia muruk gutpela.’

He was telling her that, in this region, the cassowary was not considered evil.

Taking a sliver of obsidian, the witch doctor proceeded to cut hair from Douglas’s head, chest and pubic zone. Rolling it up in a small ball, he placed it on top of the folded leaf. After slicing a neat cut on his forearm, he drizzled on blood. Next, he placed a handful of dried herbs on top.

‘Wokim faia.’

Singkepe threw across his lighter.

The flames flared with a crackle, giving off a foul odour of burning hair, cassowary skin and herbaceous oils. When they went out, the witch doctor rubbed the charred claw vigorously between his filthy hands, spitting repeatedly to work up a gluey paste. Mia had an inkling of what he was going to do with it, and every molecule of her Western medical training cringed.

The witch doctor began chanting a rhythmic drone, which set up a vibration between Mia’s eyes. Poor Singkepe put his hands over his ears. Strangest of all was the effect on Douglas. For the first time in hours, he opened his eyes and seemed aware of his surroundings. Mia knew that imminent death could presage a brief return to consciousness. It was often the only chance families of the terminally ill got to say goodbye. She wished Rob were there.

Placing the ball of black putty on Douglas’s open wound, the witch doctor forcefully massaged it inside the cavity. Mia felt sick. Yet Douglas showed no sign of pain. If anything, he seemed eager for it.

‘Mi wok pinis.’

Standing up, the witch doctor wiped his filthy hands on his grass skirt. He stared at them expectantly. Mia quickly gave him the first thing to hand – a digital thermometer from her top pocket – and he winked.

‘Arrgghh!’