"Norville Barnes: That kind of person would come back as a wildebeest, or a warthog. No, I think it more likely that you were a gazelle, with long, graceful legs, gamboling through the underbrush. Perhaps we met once, a chance encounter in a forest glade. I must have been an antelope or an ibex. What times we must have had. Foraging together for sustenance, snorfling water from a forest stream, picking the grubs and burrs from one another's coats. Or perhaps we simply touched our horns briefly and went our separate ways. Amy Archer: I wish it were that simple, Norville. I wish I was still a gazelle, and you were an antelope or an ibex. Norville Barnes: Well, can I at least call you deer?"