"Ninety-seven," the Rani retorted, which was her sort of lateral thinking at its best. Or worst, depending on how you looked at it.

As they set off in the dark, she followed them –exactly why was something she was not about to admit to anyone, least of all herself, but it had something to do with the darkness and the fear that she never acknowledged–. After a moment, there was an annoyed snort; she raised her braceleted arm and flicked a switch. A pale white light illuminated their path.