“She is.”

Counterintuitively, perhaps.

Firelight ripples from the catch of Thot’s goggly eyes to the steel of his breastplate under collar and coat and fur, now retroactively present. He’s warmed enough to pluck at the tips of his gloves, leather peeled away inside-out and dropped to dry between his boots.

“But I’m not sure she’s a creature.” Something else.

“Back at home she was a celestial spirit, summoned from the upper planes and bound to my service.”