Gradually, it began to grow lighter, the world turning blue in the dawn.
Daniel found the farm after crawling across the meadow and on through a field of wheat that led to an adjoining lane, picking a path through the prickly hedge because he was too weak to climb the gate. But he found enough strength to totter down the asphalt towards the farmhouse when he saw it, mud cracking and falling from his bare knees.
The light from the kitchen window drew him like a moth into the yard.
When the door opened, he smelt coffee. Toast. Bacon frying in a pan. And it was too much to bear.
As the farmer’s wife knelt down beside him in her dressing gown, he told her in between his sobbing that he was sorry for dirtying the floor, but the words came out slurred because he was so cold. She stared at this poor wretched thing and silently prayed thank you for his return before shouting at her husband to phone for help.