. . .

Then a kind of gull-wroth takes Helissent, a wolf-wroth, a magic-wroth. She takes out her phone. She sends a message to a friend. It says simply, “If I do not contact u in 3 days E. has killed me.” She does not let Mr. Gulley see it as she types.

She puts the phone back in her purse, sets her purse down at her side, and walks up to the wolf.

She touches it. She buries her arms in its fur. She skitches at its neck.

She hugs it.

“Ah,” says Mr. Gulley.

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