Her fingers curl against the sleeve of his jacket, the motion almost unconscious, reminiscent of someone checking to see if something caught on the edge of dreaming is real or just their mind playing tricks. After a moment, she shudders violently, and pulls away, rolling up to her knees once there's some distance between them. Grit clings to damp patches on her cheeks and forehead, and she scrubs a hand over her face to dislodge it.

That doesn't work half so well as she might like.

"Thank you," she says. Her gaze slants towards the shadowed depression in the sand that marks the pit as though drawn on an invisible string, and she shudders again, then barks a humourless laugh. "I guess we know now where some people have been disappearing."