“And so we return,” said Aleta, her face red with a quiet fury.

“Yep, we’ve returned. They’ve lost their romanticism, their worship of nature and so now they become easy meat. When God was anchored to the land he was a threat; now they’ve exiled him to their little theme park in the clouds and he holds no sway over his own creation. Metaphorically or theologically speaking, I’m not sure which.” Tom swivelled on his arse to look up at Aleta, jiggled the dice in his hand and grinned. “We couldn’t have done this a thousand years ago you know. They hit this sweet spot back in the middle ages when they loved the land, tamed enough to no longer be feared yet vital and huge enough for them to tie their souls to and hug and hold and cherish. That was why we left. We were muscled out you see. And now we return from the soft spaces, from the veil beyond, from the…”

“Yes, well fucking done. You’ve fucking return you cunting fucks,” shouted Aleta, towering over him. “You know what I love about humanity, you know what turned me to them all these past years I’ve been studying and preparing for this great lie of a role you gave me, protecting your cocking ‘chosen one’? I’ve been enjoying their language. Back home its caw-bloody-caw or ‘Well met Sir Cunt,’ well here there’s more language than you can fit in your head, more emotion and thought and idea than we ever had in our land of magic and long-named fuckwits. They’ve lost their roots but they’ve freed their minds at least and…” and here her words ran out and she fell to gasping and cawing.