Ruger mulled over those two words. Perhaps the first word had already left its mark on him, but however he considered them, they still did not make for a favorable description.
Ruger did not know whether his guess was right, but the discomfort he had experienced was certainly real. Thinking it over carefully after hearing Mona's account, he realized he had felt something similar to that terror and longing. Mostly, it was just as Wizard Mona had said: in that figure's presence, some feelings could not be easily described with a sentence or a single word.
Perhaps this divination-oriented wizard could sense more than he could.
That was the only explanation Ruger could think of.
The two exchanged more details. Neither could recall the face of the person they had seen, nor details such as his clothing.
There had been no face or voice, yet Ruger had immediately assumed, on a subconscious level, that he was a middle-aged man.
It was a curious thing.
And Mona had done the same.
Detail by detail, they recalled and compared their experiences with all the patience and care expected of wizards. At first, everything went smoothly.
Until they finally reached the matter of height, and something happened that left Ruger unsure whether to laugh or cry.
This simplest, most immediately apparent detail, which they had left until last, did not match. Ruger clearly remembered watching the door of his wooden cottage shake in his dream. He had used that door as his reference point the entire time, so there was no possibility of a mistake.
The two even went to Ruger's cottage and opened the door to compare.
Beside the doorframe, the two wizards made a series of measurements that looked both rather ridiculous and solemn.
Mona remained convinced that she was right.