Dog-Head (labored breathing, throbbing heart, eyes clenched shut, muted voice): — you promised never to speak of it —
Clever (intense childish curiosity): How were you cut? What blade did the surgeon use? Did you faint, or did you stay conscious to pain? And who owns that man’s body on whom your head is fixed?
Vixen: Hush, hush. He is right. Look not to what others have done and left undone. But rather, look to what you will do and not do. The task appointed for you.
Clever (astonished, flattered): For me? Why me?
Vixen (not answering her questions): The story, girl, know the story. How the turning of our perpetual hunt, being without resolution and without deliverance, served to unbalance the turning of the wide world.