It was night. The desert spread out in all directions. A darkness had fallen so thick that he could no longer see his own feet as they moved steadily under him. How many miles had he come? He didn't know. It was growing cold now and the beads of sweat on his brow stung him as the wind picked up. Above, there was not a star to be seen, the moon nothing more than a memory, or possibly a dream.
A mistake had been made. Recently, or perhaps a long time ago. He couldn't be sure anymore. But not taking the easy way out had at some point become no way out at all. And this felt not like a crossroads, but a dead end. He turned up his collar against the rising gusts and sat down in the sand, which held a last trace of warmth from the vanished sun. He felt a stone under his hand, lifted it, and threw it into the inky distance. Nothing. He would wait.