[ Not a witch. She looks down at her soul gem. She's been lucky, here. So far as she can tell, it hasn't gotten any more cloudy than when she arrived. Homura has been trying not to think about what might happen if it does since she doesn't think she'll be able to find grief seeds here... ]

... I don't know about where you come from, but back home... there are no good witches except... except in stories. In real life, they spread despair... and they make people k-kill themselves and others...

[ She pauses, taking a deep breath - she's not quite sure why she feels the need to explain this to a stranger, but ... maybe it's because this older girl is a perfect stranger. The people Homura knew didn't believe her, but maybe.... it might be reassuring if someone did.

At last, she looks up at Wada again, her expression earnest and yet upset. This isn't a happy subject for her, and she's trying very hard not to remember the way her best friend had screamed as her soul gem had shattered and morphed into a grief seed. ]

They're.... they're what magical girls, like me, become if our Soul Gems become too clouded...

[ The fog around her feet has become icy cold, and little weeds growing up in the cracks between the cobblestones they're standing on droop and turn brown. Above her head, there's an ominous cloud, threatening rain. ]