"I don't know..." Ladybird breathes, almost inaudibly.

As her eyes get accustomed to the darkness, she realizes she is able to distinguish rough shapes and outlines. A soft, pale glow, a mere whisper of light, comes from somewhere in front of them. Forgetting Elbow can't see her, she points towards it.

"Look, over there!"

"The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended..."
--William Shakespeare