The influx came her way.

She snatched wildly here and there until she had one in each hand and no place to put them.

She could see more coming, and her aching heart, swollen with the strain of long excitement, hurt pitifully.

She prayed in broken exclamations that did not always sound reverent, but never was human soul in more intense earnest.
Moths were coming.

She had one in each hand.