[Sonja sighs, brushing short - and, in a few places, slightly singed - curls out of her face and tucking the stray hair behind the band of the irrigo-stained goggles on her head as she admits -]

I don't understand how it's happening. Could be we're physically on the borderlands of some kind of dream-realm, but it sure don't look like any I'm familiar with, which I'd think rules that out except that it don't look like the Neath proper neither. If I didn't know better I'd say I'd gotten some kind of bad honey, but I ain't so far gone as to forget what I'd taken and I know I haven't been honey-sipping in a month and a half.