I don't care about that. I just want to go to bed.

But it's not true. She does care. It's awful to be this tired and still care, but she does.

She'll try and close each door as she comes to it, before somebody wanders out and gets hurt.

You can pull them shut, but the latches are broken; as soon as you let go they swing open again.

This isn't my job.

But that's not true either. It is her job, because she's the only one around. She'll just grab the nearest one and hold it closed. Maybe she can nap a little while she's leaning against it. It's not enough but she's just one person.

Did Mom and Dad open all these? Why?

"You know we always wanted more children, dear."

This isn't the way to get them! They're going to get chopped in half!

"That's the risk you take, sending new life into the world."

Uuugh! Parents are so unreasonable! She wants more children? Fine!

She'll pull a layer of her skin off and have it walk over and shut another door. Then she'll do it again. And again! AND AGAIN!

"There! How do you like that?!"

"It's not me who has to like it, dear."

Someone's knocking at the other end of the hall, at the door that leads outside.

She should let them in, but she doesn't want to leave and she's out of skin to send. Isn't she?

You are.

They're yelling,

"Sophie! Sophie! Sophie, please!"

That's right, she thinks. I am Sophie. How did I know?

And then she notices something funny about the voice that's shouting at her, and then

she's awake.

You're lying on the floor of a garage, wrapped in thick blankets. A bear is staring down at you from about six inches away, with an expression you somehow know to read as "worried". There's a flashlight shining from somewhere behind, but aside from that it's very dark. The air is warm and humid.

The memories land in pieces. The five figures. The fight on the hill. Jumping from tree to tree. Pure power, knowing she could do anything to anyone. Falling...

A bear. Otso. Otso!

"Oh my God Otso I'm so sorry." She'll try to sit up so she can wriggle out of the blankets and hug him, but as soon as she moves her head the room starts spinning, and she slumps back down. "I don't - I can't - "

She wants to say, "I don't know what came over me," but then she remembers and her mouth won't let her. It all made sense at the time.

She's alive! He wants to flop down in sheer relief, but that would crush her so he doesn't.

"It's ok. I'm ok. You're the one we have to worry about. You were asleep for, uh - "

"About twenty minutes, I'd estimate. Too long, for a concussion. I was just starting to wonder if I could drive you to the hospital. If my car would start, that is, and if modern medicine would work on you."

The bear -- Otso, apparently -- only dragged her out here a few minutes ago, and she's not going to pretend she understands this any more than she did before. But she's not afraid anymore. She was, and passed through it, and come out the other side to Narnia.

Her head does hurt, but, "I don't think it was a concussion. I think..." Lots of things are still fuzzy but that dream is as vivid as fire, like the shape of her Friend. Oh! I haven't lost Her. Good.

"I needed to pull myself together. But it didn't work, and then..." she trails off again. Her thoughts aren't quite steady the way she's accustomed to. They keep sparking and burning out in midair. It's weirdly hard to finish a sentence.

So try shorter ones. She'll focus on Otso again. "You're really not hurt?"

"Nothing serious." He's mostly not lying, he doesn't think. His back left leg hurts, but he can walk on it. His head hurts, and he feels sick, but he can talk. He'll try and pat Sophie's head with one paw, to reassure her.

Bear paws are not particularly soft, it turns out.

It still works for Sophie. She starts to relax. He's OK. It's OK. Nothing bad happened. I'm still myself, more or less, and no one got hurt.

Or, wait. Herself, her Friend, Otso, Jill...there's someone missing. Kyle! Where's Kyle!? And where's the Juice Man?