He sees things, sometimes, but doesn’t have the words to explain them. He’s sure they’re there, somewhere, but the inside-words are harder to hold on to than inside-heat and inside-cold and on a few very memorable occasions, inside-booms.
Sometimes, if he tries very hard, the chains around his tongue and head loosen, and the inside-words come out to play. Only, he’s not sure if they’re the right words, and if they make any sense once they’ve left his tongue. Enchantment does that, sometimes, if it feels like not behaving.
Father looks at him all funny when that happens. He doesn’t like it. Perhaps one day, he will understand; he’s sure he will. They all will. One day, when the skies open wide.