< It's strange, > Suyan said, and got to her feet. < The more I talk, the stranger it feels. >

< What strange? > Hawk asked.

< I keep noticing things. Like how hard I have to concentrate in order to really see anything. > She put her face close to the ground, and it was only with her muzzle an inch from the moss and bits of grass poking through the stones that any of it came into any kind of focus. Then she started to pace again, along the length of Hawk's tail, which snaked in vague lines over the otherwise featureless ground. Casting a look up, she continued, < But even then, I can't really see the sky. I don't know what time it is, but I must have been here a long time. And if I lose my concentration, I keep thinking...I really ought to find my keys and go home. >

She'd looked down at the ground again as if searching, but then stopped, and glanced back at him.

< You say it isn't a dream, but it really does feel like one: a sad, boring frightening dream. > Her brow knit. < But either way, I'm ready for it to be over. >