"I see." Greta looks up, seeing nothing but inky blackness. She doesn't think they've climbed so far that she couldn't still see some light from around the edges of the door, if the door was still up there. Johnny is probably right, then.

She resumes following him down the stairs, trailing a hand along the wall. The smoothness is interrupted by the occasional root, but she doesn't find the shifting textures as off-putting as the sharp drop on the other side of the steps.

When Johnny allows that her being here might improve things, Greta smiles fleetingly. "Anything I can do to help," she says.