He could see nothing.

It was a black chaos outside.

But he could hear.

He could hear the wailing and the moaning of the wind in the trees, and he almost fancied that it was not darkness alone that shut out his vision, but the thick walls of the forest.
Was that what Father Roland had meant?
Had he asked him to go with him into _that_?
His face touched the cold glass.

He stared harder.