Well... That was something she didn't see every day. The wolf.... talked to her. It had no vocal chords. It couldn't talk. Dogs. Don't. Talk. But this one did. And then it turned away. She watched with mingled horror and fascination as the wolf contorted, writhed, and... suddenly Jim was standing there. Her Jim. It was really him. He stooped and hoisted the hulking figure of the man who'd attacked her onto his shoulder as if he weighed nothing.<br/><br/>When he moved closer to her again, she had no idea how to feel or what to say. In silence, she took the hand he offered, and rose to her feet with a grunt of pain. She really didn't know how to answer his question.<br/><br/>"I... I don't... I..." and she broke down into tears. It was all too much. Too fast.<br/><br/>Confused, emotional, upset, she hobbled back to the porch, limped up the step, and opened the door she had thought she'd never see again. Could this really be happening?