Solitary night travel on the plains makes the smallest human sounds into salvation

Evidence

You can hardly imagine the longing to see a light, to hear a voice, the intensely eerie feeling of being alone in that vast solitude. It was freezing very sharply and was very cold, and I was making up my mind to steer all night for the pole-star, much fearing that I should be brought up by one of the affluents of the Platte, or that Birdie would tire, when I heard the undertoned bellowing of a bull, which, from the snorting rooting up of earth, seemed to be disputing the right of way, and the pony was afraid to pass. While she was scuffling about, I heard a dog bark and a man swear; then I saw a light, and in another minute found myself at a large house, where I knew the people, only eleven miles from Denver! — Isabella L. Bird, A Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains, 215

Categorization

• FICTION: A rider lost at night navigates by the pole-star until a bull blocking the path and a distant dog bark resolve into a farmhouse eleven miles from Denver — a ready-made scene of disorientation resolving into refuge.
• CANDY: She nearly rode all night by the pole-star across the prairie before stumbling on the house after her pony balked at a bull.