It gets to its feet, for the first time in a long time.  Joints crack.  It rumbles from deep in its chest.

It ambles toward her.

She finds she is not in the least afraid.

"Hey," she says, quietly.

"Hello."

"Do you remember me?"

"I remember...."

"This."

"How do you feel?"

"Calm."

"That's good."

"Do you have a name?"

"You gave me a number."

"Did you have a name before that?"

"Before I became trapped in this place I did not need a name."

"Is there something you'd like me to call you other than your number?"

"I do not care."

"All right."

"My name is Charlotte."

"Come closer."

She does, slowly.

Its whole body shudders, violently, as though in relief.

"Are you doing that?"

"I think so.  It's something I do without meaning to."

It settles down onto the ground and exhales, heavily, for a long moment.

She sits down next to it and puts a hand on its snout.

It breathes, quietly, slowly.

Quietly, toward the ceiling: "Hey - don't say anything, I don't want to spook it - I'm gonna stay here and let it rest for a while."

She can hear a click and a half-second of dead air over the speaker before the connection closes again.

She grins at the ceiling and flashes a thumbs-up.

Click.