Swann forces himself through what he told himself was wind, from somewhere in the pit of Hell. His head feels scrambled, but his head feels that way a great deal of the time, though not at all like this. He steadies himself, and in a loud, melodic voice, begins to sing.

"Over hillways up and down
Myrtle green and bracken brown,
Past the shieling through the town
All for sake of Mhàiri!

Step me gaily, off we go
Heel for heel and toe for toe,
Arm in arm and off we go--"

The change is abrupt, and he nearly tumbles forward when the wind stops. So does his singing.

"... all for Mhàiri's wedding."

He squints his eyes against the OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT sensation, and rests his hand on one of the grips of a pistol.

"Oi, Doctor? You in 'ere?" He's going to walk farther into what he's named the 'Glade of Perpetual Horrible Light'. He has the LED thing. It should protect him from whatever is in here, right?

"Dinnae hide, I know yer in here somewhere. I hope."