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The drive to the trailhead is long and meandering. When the group of eight campers arrives, the sun is threatening to touch the horizon. By the time everyone settles their gear onto their shoulders, it already has.
They head into the trees, where the darkness is gathering quickly. One by one, they begin turning on their headlamps, until there are eight points of light moving through the trees. They reach a slow, broad river where instructions are shouted and people are told to go slow. Their headlamps double themselves on the surface of the slow, rushing water.
They each reach the other side, clumping together and turning their lights to the far bank.
And then, all at once, every light goes out. The group clamors and shouts and asks questions. People fumble in bags for spare batteries, for phones, for anything that can break the darkness.
For a long moment, nothing does.
And then the light returns. Nine headlamps shine out, into the night.
