Prudence sat on the sofa in the living room, knitting in front of the television. She hadn't done any knitting or sewing in over a week, but her hands remembered what to do on their own. She watched her hands work, thinking gratefully, These are my hands. Not those awful hooves from her nightmare.
So far she had a square of blue yarn six inches wide. She didn't know what the finished product would be. Spring would be here soon, so it didn't seem practical to make a hat, scarf, or sweater. A coaster maybe, or a pillow. She didn't care.
She looked around the living room at the dusty shelves and faded wallpaper. What about Mr. Pryde? He could use something new to brighten up the room. A new set of throw pillows for the couch might make it look as though someone still lived here.
The knitting fell from her fingers at this thought. Mr. Pryde was lying upstairs in a coma; what use did he have for throw pillows? He might never wake up again and she could only sit here playing with yarn. She couldn't help Mr. Pryde or Mrs. Schulman or Samantha. What good was she to anyone?
Wendell came downstairs to find Prudence staring at a square of blue yarn in her hands. How long has she been like this? he wondered. What's she thinking about? He didn't know. Not even being a girl in his nightmare gave him any insight into the female mind. She could be thinking about Samantha or she could be reflecting on her nightmare or she could be thinking what a horrible mistake to have kissed him.
"Hello," he said from the doorway. "I think I've come up with the potion we need."
"You did? That's wonderful," she said, sounding more worried than excited about this discovery.
"I'm not sure if it'll work," he admitted. "There isn't any time to test it. I can't be sure what it'll do, if it'll do anything at all-"
Prudence crossed the room to silence him with a kiss. "It'll work," she said. "I trust you."
From his pocket he took out two vials of an orange liquid. "There should be enough here to stop them. The hard part is they have to swallow it. I doubt they'll do that on their own."
"Maybe if we talk to Samantha we can convince her it's for the best," Prudence said. "There has to be some of her old self left in there."
"I don't know. Maybe. We can't take that chance, though. We'll have to find some way to trap them."
Prudence put an arm around his shoulders. She steered him towards the couch. "You look tired. Why don't you take a nap to get your strength back?"