With the water bottle almost empty—Faye had drunk most of it—and aware of how quickly it would grow dark, she was about to wake Clare and tell her she was going to try and find more water when she heard the distinctive chuff, chuff, chuff sound of a helicopter in the distance. She scrambled out of the shelter, clenching her jaw to prevent herself from calling out before she was certain. The sound grew louder and there was a noisy flutter as the birds fled the trees. Faye crouched in the entrance of the shelter and placed her hands around Clare’s ankles. She barely opened her eyes.

“They’re here!” said Faye, unable to stop her voice from trembling.

Clare said nothing. Her eyes were closed again.

“I’m going to let them know where we are,” said Faye, gently squeezing her legs. “You’re going to be okay. Lie still. I’ll be back.”

Heart thumping loudly in her ears, Faye ran through the trees and into the opening towards the sound. The helicopter was hovering above the sandy patch: they’d seen the cross she’d made the day before using branches and rocks. She waved her arms frantically, her knees almost giving way when she saw two people wave back.

When the engine died and the rotor blade slowed, the door opened. A woman with a huge backpack, followed by a man carrying a stretcher, lit up the veld with their red and white overalls. They ran to Faye.

“You’re okay?” said the woman.

“Yes, but Clare . . . my friend—”

“There are two of you?”

Faye turned. “Come. This way.”

The paramedics followed her to the shelter. The woman—Faye heard her colleague address her as Gcina—knelt at Clare’s side. The girl was motionless.

“Tell us what happened. What you know,” she said, glancing at Faye and opening her bag.

Faye took a deep breath and explained. The paramedics asked her several questions and when the man bent to go into the shelter, too, Faye stumbled backwards and sat on the ground. For a moment, she imagined she might float away over the trees and out of sight. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Another person, the pilot, she assumed, was crouching alongside her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“When did you last eat?” called Gcina from the shelter, where she and her colleague were busy with Clare.

“I don’t know,” said Faye.

Gcina glanced at the pilot. “Tim, fetch the Tupperware container near my seat in the heli. There are some sandwiches in it.”

“Mine is there, too,” said her partner.

The pilot left. Faye leaned forward to try and see what they were doing, but the paramedics crouched over Clare, blocking the view.

“Is she okay?” she called.

Gcina glanced at her, but said nothing.