He was there, and somehow that gives a darker shade to the whole godawful mess. Maybe knowing he was near would have made it incrementally easier to bear -- or made it worse, knowing she could do nothing to help.

Terry nods in response, forcing herself to breathe evenly, finding slight comfort in the small noises that accompany each breath.

"They took my voice," she says quietly, and to remind herself that she still can, she modulates her voice to keep it steady even as her vision clouds with tears. "The last time that happened a wolf ripped my throat up. I was mute for months."

The scars, faded though they might be, are still there, a daily reminder that her life could always be worse.