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Imagine, if you will, a vast and level plain. It's probably sandy. It's night-time, and the darkness above is absolute: there are no clouds, no skyglow from cities on the horizon, just the hard, bright, stars slowly marching across the sky.
Campfires dot the plain. Each fire is surrounded by a circle of tiny figures, talking, singing, laughing, drinking... Doing whatever it is that people do. Zoom in a little, jink left... a bit more... there. That's us, right there, you, me and the others. Some lead, some follow, some stoke the fire. Each of them is doing something, something useful.
And there I am, patrolling the edge of the circle of light. Every so often I look towards the fire, maybe even step inward a bit, but the brightness burns my eyes. Other times, I drift off into the darkness that separates the fires from each other, but the cold brings me back before too long. It's bitterly cold out here, alone from the fires.
Worse, there seems to be something out here with me. Every time I stop paying attention and look inward, let the fire dance on my face and actually look at the people I circle, I become aware of a low growling, a presence in the dark. I've caught glimpses of it before, a big, dark, canine creature, but it never comes close enough to see clearly. Not from the front, anyway, I've felt it breathing down my neck before, without any warning. It doesn't stay long, thankfully, and it hasn't done me any harm. Yet. I don't even know if it's the worst that's out here.
There are others, circling other fires. If we come close enough, we nod and half-smile to each other: we never say anything. A knowing smile speaks volumes, and means we needn't disturb the others with sudden, unexpected noises. There's a certain weary familiarity when we recognise another of our kind, I think: someone who has been where we've been.
Not that it has any meaning out here, but I think it's getting late, and I can hear the creature again. It's close, just beyond my sight... has been for a while, I think. Best you get back to the fire, and I'll get back to ... what I do.
Islands in the dark, each connected to its peers only loosely. Each one with its guardians, and each with its talkers, its singers and its providers. And the stars wheel on.