A long groan echoed across the moonlit dunes, causing what little nightlife there was to scatter to the wind. Caspian trudged along the sand, his legs feeling like they were made of pure lead. Under the faint light, evidence of his passing trailed far into the distance behind him, more an unbroken line of dragged feet than footprints.

“Uhhhhhhhh,” he groaned, the sound helping him move. Time had lost all meaning beneath the star-filled sky. The heavens seemed alive, the countless constellations that called it home cheering him forward, eager to see how far he could go. Gritting his teeth, he shakily kept moving, fearing a break would turn into a permanent thing.

A gust of icy wind tore across the dunes, grabbing hold of his scarf and whipping it into a wild dance. His hair fluttered erratically, his breath materialising as puffs of fog. Caspian rubbed his hands together vigorously, breathing into them. Anything to keep the chill away. Not for the first time, he wished he’d been better prepared, thicker clothes would have been a godsend. Tightening the scarf around his neck, he found little solace in its thin fabric as it battled against the elements.

Inside him, a furnace raged against the elements. Hot blood coursed through his veins, his body burning through its resources in a desperate bid to keep him warm.

“One more step. One more step. One more step.” He chanted the mantra over and over again, unceasing in his advance.

The night stretched on like that, Caspian forcing himself forward, his entire body aching. The high-spirited man from earlier was gone now, only a shadow remaining. Wetting his mouth with a few drops of water, he licked his lips, savouring the taste. Shaking the bottle, it was still over half full. Pacing himself had succeeded, the cold night far more forgiving than the heat of day. Still, he was running out.

“How much further,” he wondered deliriously. He lost track of how far he had travelled long ago. His faint surroundings looked much the same as they always had, rolling hills of sand. “I must be close,” he hoped, trying to force himself to believe it. He had to be, or else he didn’t think he’d be able to make it. Absently his mind drifted to the flaregun that sat upon his back. The promise of a bed, of not being tired and hungry and thirsty anymore.

“Not a chance,” he thought resolutely, shutting the thought down before it could fester. Checking the compass, he confirmed his direction, the moonlight just bright enough to see.

Through the night, a long mournful cry echoed. After a moment more joined in, creating a clamouring chorus. The haunting sounds surrounded Caspian, assaulting him from all sides. His eyes wide, he whipped his head back and forth, trying to find its origin. Not paying attention, his foot slipped momentarily, his exhausted body toppling over. The animal continued their song.

His body shivered in response to the howls, goosebumps covering his arms. Some reptilian part of him wanted out, the gene deep memories of being hunted screaming at him to find safety. Gritting his teeth, Caspian looked forward his eyes ablaze. “Just let them try,” he thought. The only animals that howled out in the wild lands were dingoes. “Scavengers,” he breathed, remembering what he had learnt. They wouldn’t go out of their way to get him unless they were hungry. Or if he looked like an easy enough target.

Clawing his way back onto his feet, he leant on his makeshift staff. Pulling himself forward, the symphony continued, the sound travelling for miles. He couldn’t be sure, but they seemed to be getting closer to him. Trying to walk faster, his body refused him. It was all he could to keep plodding along, using his stick to stop himself from tumbling to the ground again.

As bad as the howling was, when they abruptly stopped the silence that replaced it was far more harrowing. At least he knew where they were before. Now they were out there, paranoia started to overcome him. Constantly scanning the horizon, every odd-looking shape or small rock seemed to be alive. He felt surrounded, as if hungry eyes were watching his every move.

The calls started up again, now much closer. They came over the dune he’d just passed over, the shrill sounds hurting his ears. Looking back, he thought he saw movement in the darkness. More howls answered it, this time on either side of him. The moonlight disappeared as a cloud passed over it, causing the world to plunge into shadows. Gripping the stick tight, he ignored the pain in his hands.

More movement out of the corner of his eye, feeling a presence near him. Not stopping, he constantly looked over his shoulder, but his eyes couldn’t pierce the inky black. Slowly the cloud cover moved, and when he looked behind him countless glowing eyes stared back at him. The small green dots slowly got closer, bobbing up and down.

Feeling nervous under their unblinking gaze, he tried to urge his body to move quicker. Despite its initial resistance, the imminent threat of wildlife pushed him forward. A harsh scratching sound emanates from behind him, almost like laughter. More of the eyes appeared on either side of him, and as he dipped into the valley between two dunes, more appeared in front of him.

Fear gripped his heart as he came to a realisation. “I’m surrounded.” He was forced to a stop, the howling dangerously close now. It reverberated in his ears, his legs feeling like jelly. The soft patter of paws on sand surrounded him, the moon shining once more. A dozen of the dogs slowly paced in a circle around him.

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“COME ON!” he shouted, trying to regain control of the situation. A few tilted their heads at him, curious at his clamouring. “YOU MANGEY HOUNDS WANT A PIECE OF ME!” he cried, holding onto his stick fiercely. “COME GET SOME!”

Despite his war cry, the dingoes seemed mostly unphased, if a little hesitant. Communicating with yips, they advanced on him, pressing in on all sides. Whipping his head back and forth, he struggled to stand straight. Holding the stick like a staff, he tried to mentally prepare himself.

Shouting, he stomped on the ground, trying to scare them off. He screamed, baring his teeth. One, braver than the others, bounded close to him. Snarling, it tried to bite his leg. Bring the stick down hard, it jumped away unscathed.

“COWARD!” he roared, as two more advanced from behind. Swinging wide, he managed to catch one on its paw, the dog letting out a yelp. “YEAH YEAH! MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM!”

The one he had just hit licked its leg, growling at him. Caspian stood tall, moonlight illuminating the battlefield. Readying himself, he braced himself as multiple dingoes jumped at him from all sides. Jerking left, two of them missed him completely. The third managed to latch its jaw on his leg, ripping straight through his pants. Pain shot through him, its teeth sinking into his calf.

“AAAAAAAA!”

Without thinking he brought the stick down hard on its back. His hands shook from the force of the blow, an almighty crack resounding. The dingo let out a yelp, letting go of his leg and scrambled away as quickly as it could. The sound of movement from behind made him spin, a ball of fur incoming. Throwing up an arm, he tried to bat it away. His body screamed as more teeth sank into him, blood dyeing the sand red.

The dog held on for dear life as Caspian swung it around, panicking. Dropping the stick, he tried to punch it. His fist connected with its small face, bones creaking. When it didn’t let go, he threw another, blood and fur covering his hand. It crumpled to the floor, letting out a weak whimper.

Trying to ignore the blood dripping down his arm and leg, he scooped up his stick, scanning his surroundings. The dingoes paced about, growling at him. Backing away slowly he yelled at the ones in his way, swinging the stick at them. Jumping back, they slowly parted. Taking the opportunity to get out of the encirclement, Caspian shambled as fast as he could away from the beasts.

A few tried to follow him, but when he stopped at tried to hit them, they receded into the darkness of night. White knuckled hands gripped the stick, his eyes peeled for another attack, but none came. Before long, the long mournful howls began again. The solemn chorus slowly drifted further and further away from him, carried by the wind. Only after walking for ten minutes and seeing no sign of them, did he finally feel safe enough to stop.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he dropped to the floor. They must have decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. Running a hand over his wounds, he twitched from the pain. Examining his hand, it was slick with blood. Opening the bag, he removed his bottle of water. Taking a drink first, he poured a little over his wounds, trying to clean them.

“I need to stop the bleeding,” he thought, his throat hoarse from the yelling. Removing his scarf, he gave it a quick thank you, before tearing it in half. Struggling to hold the piece in place, he tightly bound it around his arm. Feeling the pain subside slightly, he tied it off by pulling on it with his teeth.

Moving onto his leg, the wound was larger, more blood dribbling down his leg. Pouring more water over it to remove the blood, the holes were visible under the moonlight. Carefully bandaging it up, the bleeding lessened.

Sweat bucketed, he slumped to the floor. Looking up at the stars, he felt his eyelids droop. “Just a little rest,” he thought. “Just for a second.”

“NO!” a voice in his head yelled, snapping him awake. Taking his good arm, he slapped his face once, then twice. Blinking, he opened his eyes wide.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmured.

The thought of the flaregun in his bag called to him again. It would be understandable if he used it. He’d been attacked by a pack of wild animals, he’d lost his food and water to a lizard. Anyone would understand, there was no shame in it. The thoughts swirled around his head, trying to convince him to give up.

“I can’t. Not again,” he said, tears of frustration welling up. “Not like this.” With his hand, he wiped them away.

Struggling to his feet, he used the stick as a support. Fumbling for the compass, he was relieved to see he was still facing the right direction. Taking a hesitant step forward, he almost fell.

“Come on Cas,” he yelled to himself. “Pull yourself together. You can't give up here.”

Limping, he began to walk again, his speed much slower now. He had a third of a bottle of water left, wounds of an arm and a leg, and he was dead tired. “What a terrible day,” he lamented. He couldn’t have imagined where he would end up this morning. The day had seemed so bright and hopeful back then. “Just have to keep moving forward,” he said. After all that had been thrown at him, he wasn’t going to fall now.

Climbing the dunes was much harder with an out-of-service leg. He had to take his time to be extra careful, the pain causing him to flinch every time he stepped too hard. The moon had almost completed its journey across the sky. It would be setting soon. With the dimming light, a period of darkness approached. He didn’t know how long it would be until the sun rose, but the horizon was still dark, no sign of it yet.

Through blurry eyes, he squinted into the distance. He had to let his vision focus for a second, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Far off in the distance, was light. Unlike the moon, sun or stars, this light was manmade.

After walking for hours, fighting off beasts in the night, he could finally see the finish line.

Standing resolute in the darkness, a bastion of humanity, was New Broome’s illuminated walls.