[A solemn nod, before his determination leaves him unwavering at the skepticism she has toward his gullibility. He knows it to sound mad; he thought about his possible madness plentifully, but in the end, they're all here together. They all face the same sort of impossible odds.]

Many a kind of creature — creature's I've almost been killed by. Large beasts with lines of teeth... spirits and large flying things, who swoop and screech in the night. And then the singing angels, who burn eyes and deafen ears — I cannot begin to name them all.

[He thinks hard on how to show her.]

Would you like to see one of them? The deer? I feed them sometimes for good favor and charity near my cabin, and — some are... unearthly, but goodnatured.