Chapter nine:Few minutes more

At last all hope seeped out of him and he lay like a discarded doll, his unseeing eyes staring blankly into the limbs of the tree above him. Then slowly, unbelievably, he realised that he could see the branches and leaves a little more clearly. He turned his head and his eyes greedily drank in the line of the horizon: yes, it was true, the first slow beginnings of dawn were there. With the dawn came fresh hope that buoyed up inside him and threatened to burst out in a whoop of joy. Then he remembered his dog and looked anxiously over to where he lay curled up among the others. He showed no signs of stirring.
The night fled slowly, reluctantly, in the face of the day, but, with its receding, he turned his mind back to living. He started to moisten his lips and tongue with what little saliva he had left, and turned his head once more towards the two sleeping men. He whispered to them as loudly as he dared, hoarsely, desperately praying that one of them should waken, but neither moved.

Author's Note

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