"What is this---..." Aurora finally caught up with Hershel, before staring at the sight before her. "This can't be... the pickles must roam here!" she muttered, her eyes widening by the second. She didn't know what to feel-- amazed or terrified. Either way, the black haired-girl would pick the sillier answer, but it was understandable. This isn't even schizophrenia at all! She hasn't killed anyone yet, and she was grateful.