"And I've never seen a talking wolf," replies Cascia. "What's wrong with the other one, the Daine one? Cat got your tongue?"

It's a fair question, to Peter's mind. And to his soul, apparently. He kneels on the forest floor, one arm still wrapped protectively around Cascia. "I don't get why she's not a bat," he says to the silent Daine-wolf. "They're supposed to be us, aren't they?"