"Pure powder's not great for eatin' on its own, bit intense, not to mention the texture," Cammie says with a nod. "And Gran always used raw powder, she liked to make it fresh as she could, rather than usin' a mix. She knew how to mix it all to make it taste just right."

Homemade hot chocolate made fresh on the stove. Gods, does Cammie miss that.

Present Cammie's ears perk up. "Oh, heads up, there's a—"

Then there's a loud bang, a flash, and the power cuts out, leaving the room in darkness besides the blue gas fire under the pot. Younger Cammie startles with a scream and her dad holds her close, soothing her

"It's all right," he says. "It's just the power's gone."

"But with no power, there's no lights, and no phone, and no Ether—" the little girl sounds ready to cry, clinging to her dad's shirt. Her gran lights a candle and sets it on the table.

Despite the sudden noise and younger Cammie's fear, in the light of the candle and the gas on the stove, the room still somehow feels cozy. They're safe inside, together.

"Good ol' Scottish storms," present Cammie says with a shake of her head. The sound of the rain against the window is almost nostalgic, now. "Haven't been through one of 'em in a long time now."