As she pulled the small tin from her wet bag the touch of the metal caused a twin surge of terrible loss and wonderful love to issue forth from the chambers of Inteachán’s tiny heart.
For, and despite all world-saving appearances to the contrary, Inteachán’s loss was still too close and too recent for her to do anything other than be totally overwhelmed once more.
An unknown time passed before Inteachán was ready to begin again. She reached back into her rucksack and pulled out her spare penlight. She turned the penlight on and pointed.
Like a chalk line barely drawn across the blackness of infinity Inteachán’s beam hardly touched the dark.