He is not a man, nor a lion. She is not a clock, nor she a seal, and all our natures are strange and true. He is a lion, a man, she a clock, she a seal, and confusion comes over me. I grasp the hand of the woman close to me.

"Est Deus in Nobis," I speak to the man's word. My confusion drains away now, and I feel fire under my skin. Winter's fire, a bone fire, when it charred my eyes and I saw. "We are in the wrong place, I think." Unless there is something more here, something not found in that elsewhere we ought to be.