“Oh well
that's just bloody marvellous,” Fiona declares, staring at the
hedge. “This place makes no sense whatsoever.”
Strauss
remains silent, his head bowed.
“I know, I
know,” Fiona continues, “This is the Weave, blah, blah, human
imagination, blah blah, but come on, a bloody hedge maze that might
be endless, who imagines that?”
“A thing
does not have to actually been imagined to exist in the Weave.”
“What?”
“Ideas are
quite capable of colliding on their own.”
“I'm not
sure I understand what that means,” Fiona replies, “But do you
know what? I don't care. Is there another way out of here.”
“Not that
we are aware of, m'lady.”
