His voice came and went, as he circled--always loud enough to hear but in a comical sort of idiot doppler effect. Had he known her inner thoughts maybe he'd have been less eager to cooperate, but company made him cheerful anyway. This place was BIG, and LONELY. "It's THIS WAY," he cawed--"Toward Morning Sun and Cold Place." (He flew briefly northwest, and then circled back again, flapping noisily along.)
"It's all tall stone; the Philosopher says the BUILDERS BUILT IT! CAW! -But it's full of CATS, and DOGS, and THORNBEASTS." Whatever those were. "It shines light, sometimes--the Philosopher!--CAW--maybe you can find it. YOU are a cat," Matchsticks added.
A wise observation, indeed.
