The Cost of Holding On

Based on Joshua 5:9-12 – The Israelites eat the produce of the land, and the manna ceases.

The land was unforgiving. It always had been. The low scrub stretched for kilometres, the red dust thick in the air, clinging to skin and clothing. Further west, the mallee trees took over, their twisted forms standing against the sun like weathered sentinels. Somewhere beyond them, water waited—if they could get there.

Harry knew this country. Or at least, he thought he did. Forty years of tracking, guiding, and surviving. He had led mining crews, lost tourists, even scientists who thought they knew better until the land humbled them. And now, he was leading this group of four—young, inexperienced, but determined.

The heat pressed down as they trudged forward. The plan had been simple: follow the old stock route. It had never failed him before. But something had changed.

“Creek should’ve been there,” Harry muttered, checking his map again. He had led them to this gully countless times. Water always lingered in the shaded bends, even in the dry season. But now, nothing. Just cracked clay and the stink of something long dead.

Liam, the youngest of the group, wiped his forehead and peered over Harry’s shoulder. “Maybe we need to cut west, mate. That ridge looks like it’s holding some trees.”

Harry snorted. “I’ve been doing this since before you were born. The stock routes never failed. We press on.”

Lucy, their medic, shifted her pack. “With all due respect, Harry, what if it’s failing now?”

Harry didn’t answer. They had food, sure, but water was another thing. They had rationed tightly, but their bottles were getting light. He had trusted the land to be what it always was. But the land had changed.

They walked on. The spinifex grew sparse, the ground a furnace beneath their boots. Even the wind had dried up. The old stock route wound them between hills, but still, no water.

Harry stopped.

Something about the ridge Liam had pointed out earlier nagged at him. It was green—not much, but more than here.

“You reckon there’s water up there?” he asked.

Liam shrugged. “Dunno. But it’s worth a shot.”

Harry hesitated. If he turned now, if he admitted the old ways weren’t working, then what? Was he just an old man hanging onto maps that meant nothing?

Lucy shifted beside him. “Harry, the land’s different. Maybe we have to be, too.”

The words sat heavy in his chest. The land was different. And if he didn’t move with it, they wouldn’t make it out.

“Right,” he said finally, shouldering his pack. “We go west.”

It took another three hours, feet dragging, lips dry. But as they crested the ridge, the world shifted. Below them, a rock shelf curved into a shadowed hollow and nestled against it—green. And beyond the trees, a shimmer.

Water.

Liam let out a strangled laugh. “Bloody oath.”

They stumbled down the slope, boots skidding, until they reached the pool. It was small but enough. Harry cupped the water in his hands, letting it run through his fingers.

The land had changed.

And finally, he had, too.

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story inspired by the scripture text from Joshua 5:9-12.

The Cost of Holding On
(shorter version)

Based on Joshua 5:9-12 – The Israelites eat the produce of the land, and the manna ceases.

The land was unforgiving. It always had been. The low scrub stretched for kilometres, the red dust thick in the air, clinging to skin and clothing. Further west, the mallee trees took over, their twisted forms standing against the sun like weathered sentinels. Somewhere beyond them, water waited—if they could get there.

Harry knew this country. Or at least, he thought he did. Forty years of tracking, guiding, and surviving. He had led mining crews, lost tourists, even scientists who thought they knew better until the land humbled them. And now, he was leading this group of four—young, inexperienced, but determined.

The heat pressed down as they trudged forward. The plan had been simple: follow the old stock route. It had never failed him before. But something had changed.

“Creek should’ve been there,” Harry muttered, checking his map again. He had led them to this gully countless times. Water always lingered in the shaded bends, even in the dry season. But now, nothing. Just cracked clay and the stink of something long dead.

Liam, the youngest of the group, wiped his forehead and peered over Harry’s shoulder. “Maybe we need to cut west, mate. That ridge looks like it’s holding some trees.”

Harry snorted. “I’ve been doing this since before you were born. The stock routes never failed. We press on.”

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story inspired by the scripture text from Joshua 5:9-12.

Continue reading the full story here.