Rubbing to edges and corners bumped. Spine and covers creased. Some loose pages.
They were alone in a silent world of black and silver. The silence was intense. No bird cried. No fox barked.
David suddenly realised that she was trembling, her fingers were gripping him as if she would never let them go. Surely she wasn't still scared?
"Look, David," she whispered, and pointed ahead with her free hand. "Can you see it? Like a little litght on top of the Mynd. It's a fire, I'm sure. That aeroplane has crashed. What shall we do?"