The sun was setting over the meadow. The stars were coming out, and the sky was filled with them. She was so tired under those silver pinpricks. She wanted to stay awake, but even when she tried to lift her head, tried her very hardest, it was too heavy to move.
"Dalat," she murmured, fighting and - she knew - losing. "Akta envolet dalat," as if it would help, as if by going home, it would help her stay strong. It didn't. Her voice failed on the last word, right as the sky itself darkened.
And right up to that moment, even then, in the stillness in her head, there above it all was the loud buzz of All is well, everything is as it should be, and there's no cause for alarm.