Prrkt flew one last time, just for the thrill. She beat her wings until she had the whole town to look down at, all at once. All of those lights, all of those houses and cars and schools, all of that drama over nothing.

She was about to swoop back down to where Skrrrrtk was waiting, but she saw a strange light shining upwards from a mile or two away. It pierced the sky and refracted yellow and purple. She had to take a closer look, it was too fascinating to ignore. She arced down.

The light came from a meadow, from a device in the hand of a tall human. Some avian instinct told Prrkt to flee, to get out of there, because this was trouble. But another part made her get closer. She flew toward the light.

“Uh, hello there,” said the man holding the light. “Patricia, right? I was starting to wonder if you were going to make it. Well, you’d better resume your true form. I brought some clothes.”

And just like that, Patricia was a naked person on the frosty ground—like she’d been tossed into an icy bath. The man flung a bundle of clothes at her and turned while she got dressed. The clothing all fit perfectly: a pair of cheap imitation Reeboks, fuzzy white sweatpants, a T-shirt for a classic rock station, and a Red Sox jacket.

“Excellent,” the man said. “My car is nearby. Let’s get you warmed up.”

The stranger wore a checkered hunter cap and almost-Lennon sunglasses, and he had unruly gray hair and sideburns, and his skin was a deep brown. He had a big longshoreman coat that he wore like a cloak. The light that had so entranced the bird version of Patricia turned out to be a Black & Decker flashlight, but maybe the man had done something magical to it.

“Come along now,” he said, with a slight midsouthern accent, like Carolina or Tennessee.

“Wait a minute,” Patricia said. It felt weird to be speaking English again, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. “Who are you? And where are you taking me?”

The man sighed, like a thousand valves opening to release a million years of pent-up exasperation. “Could we do this in the car, perhaps? I can take you to a drive-thru for some grub. My treat.”

“No thanks,” said Patricia. “I ate a lot of suet. I’m good.” She had a moment of remembering how she’d snarfed the pearly fat, and felt revolted.