Algernon balled the now-filthy handkerchief in his fist as he shifted on the stony ground and tried to stand. A gasp escaped through his cracked lips as the arrow of pain shot up his leg. The ankle he’d twisted last night had swollen, and he could barely put any weight on it. He looked down at his foot in despair, the ready tears of frustration and anguish rolling down his face. It was unfair. He didn’t deserve this. Why, after everything he’d gone through, was he being punished?

He licked the tears from his lips, tasting bitter salt and grit – at least they had brought some relief to his tortured eyes, but how could he hope to find the road if he couldn’t walk? He knew then that God was testing him – testing his resolve and his strength – asking him to prove himself and show what he was made of.

Algernon’s pride wouldn’t allow him to be defeated. He sniffed back his tears and gingerly got to his feet. The pain in his ankle was bearable, but he suspected it would worsen once he began to walk over this rough ground and in the heat the swelling would no doubt increase. He looked about him for something he could use as a walking stick. There was nothing. Just miles of unfenced emptiness, and a profound silence that seemed to worm its way to his very core.

He could see no tracks of his boots on the ground, just drifts of sand, but he was certain he had been facing north when he’d fallen. But he’d moved since then – turned and twisted to look for snakes – shifted again to take in his surroundings and hunt for something to lean on. The panic was raw as he tried desperately to think what to do.

And then it came to him, and he hastily fumbled in his pocket for his watch. Holding the dial parallel to the ground he turned it until the hour hand was pointed towards what he hoped was the rising sun. It was difficult to tell exactly where it was in the thick haze, but he was sure it didn’t matter too much if he was just a bit out. He peered at the dial, saw it was four in the morning and calculated that north had to be at two o’clock.

He smiled with satisfaction as he returned the watch to his pocket and tied the handkerchief over his mouth and nose. He’d always prided himself on his ability to remember things, and that skill had been taught to him long ago by an old seaman he’d once met in Sydney docks. It had certainly come in use today. The main road couldn’t be too far away now.