As Dr. Crenshaw's spell dissipated and Marcella felt like she was once again regaining control, she pounded against the barricade in front of her and the doctor simply sneered. "Come now, Marcella, aren't you happy your out of that place?"

"You . . . " she said and put a hand to her head. The remaining clouds of quiet contentment still held her back from saying the things she wanted, but she fought it. "Are taking me . . . from one prison . . . to . . . another."

"Oh now that's not fair." Dr. Crenshaw's car pulled away from the hospital. "The place where I'm taking you will not be anything like this boring hospital . . . or prison, as you call it."

"Oh yeah?"

"The people I work for understand you better than anyone in this dump. They'll have you hooked up to machines all day, some of them might even hurt ya."

"So it'll be worse than the hospital?" Marcella bit back her tears and turned to look out the window. Every passing second provided her with more and more clarity.

"Precisely." Dr. Crenshaw's mouth twisted and his colors changed to a combination of frighteningly deep red and acid green.

Marcella scanned the back seat, looking for ways to escape. She considered waving to passing cars, but the windows had such dark tinting that she knew nobody would see her. Pressing herself up against her door, she remembered what Dr. Crenshaw had said, 'Everything has a frequency.'

She watched the boring and lazy colors of the door. She reached out and her fingers passed through the drab frequency as easily as through a beam of light. 'The trick is to understand the frequencies . . . then you can manipulate them.'

What did the man mean? How could she understand these frequencies more than she already did? She threw her shoulder against the door and pushed with every bit of her strength. She urged the door to open, she wished and prayed for it and Dr. Crenshaw noticed.

"Don't even try it, girlie! Only the most advanced receptors can change the ways of things."

Marcella didn't listen. She just pushed and prayed until finally she felt it, the door, every fibre, every atom. But there was more than just the door, sitting just out of reach.

"Please open, please, please." She knew the door could hear her, it was listening to everything she felt. It was as if the door understood what she wanted, but it just wasn't ready to give it to her.

Dr. Crenshaw laughed as the car began to slow down. Marcella saw a red streetlight through the windshield and suddenly became aware of the tiniest bit of what she felt just past the door.

The car, the engine, the tires. She felt it all coming to a stop and it was as if the door smiled at her and, with the click of a lock it said, 'you're welcome.'

Marcella grinned and the door swung open. She heard Dr. Crenshaw yell for her as she ran across the street, there were honking horns and screeching breaks but she paid no attention to what was going on around her.

She just lowered her head and ran for the welcoming colors of the forest just past the shoulder of the road. The frequencies of the trees seemed to rejoice in her presence. They danced and changed and almost sang as she tore through low hanging branches. They warned her of the man who chased her, Dr. Crenshaw.

There was a sound in front of her and she stopped. The first thing she noticed was the gray-blue colors as they poked through the pastel celebrations of vegetation. She heard the muffled foot falls next and then, from the shadows, out popped the long grey snout with a faded scar running along its right side.

Marcella felt her bladder convulse. She fell to her knees before the wolf and it stared down at her with yellow eyes. The sounds of the clumsy doctor's approach came from behind her and Marcella felt tears flowing over her dirty cheeks.

"Please," she begged, "just . . . kill me if that's what you're here to do."

The wolf didn't move. Its thick fur shifted in the wind and its frequency danced in a way that seemed to question her.

"I want you to," she said through her tears, "anything is better than being locked up again. Anything."

Dr. Crenshaw tripped over a root and stumbled in front of Marcella. He laughed as he looked down at her and she up at him.

"Thought you could get away, huh?"

Marcella didn't respond. She cried and looked past Dr. Crenshaw at the wolf which he didn't seem to notice.

"Please . . . " Her arms fell limp, her spine curved and her head hung low.

"Please what?" Dr. Crenshaw grabbed hold of her face and lifted her to her feet. She screamed and felt the trees grow sad and angry. The wind rustled their leaves and the wolf stepped forward.

She could feel the animal now like she had felt the car, again with that something else just past her reach. She knew it was coming in for the kill.

"Thank you." The tears flowed more freely now and Dr. Crenshaw tossed her aside.

"You're going to come with me now, and you're not --" He stopped as he heard it. The gentlest crack as the wolf's soft foot took another step forward and snapped a dry twig. It's body was low to the ground as it approached and Marcella closed her eyes, expecting the intense pain of the animal's bite.

Dr. Crenshaw's screams snapped her eyes open, and she saw that the wolf had him pinned. It tore at his face and he tried to push it away. Marcella could see his frantic colors trying to grab hold of the wolf, trying to force it back but it was too strong willed. Its teeth clenched tight around his throat and Marcella heard a snap, followed by utter silence.

The wolf raised its head and looked at Marcella. She cried even harder now as it turned to slink off into the trees again.

"Wait!" She stopped crying just long enough to call out and the wolf stood still. After a moment of silence it turned its head back over its shoulder and Marcella stared at its bloody, scarred snout. "I . . . um . . . I . . ." She gulped. "Thanks.

The wolf licked its red stained lips and disappeared. The last trace of it that Marcella could see was its trailing, steel blue frequency which slowly faded into the colors of the forest to which it belonged.

Marcella stood up and stared at Dr. Crenshaw's faceless body. She stepped closer and nudged him with her toe. She almost expected him to spring up and grab her, but she knew he was gone. His well controlled array of colors were fading, slipping away from him and melding into those around him almost as simply as those of the wolf. When he went completely dark, like a burnt out light bulb, she finally felt comfortable turning her back on him and walking away.

The trees mourned the death of Dr. Crenshaw, but it was a strange sort of grief, one that mingled with respectful thanks. Marcella became aware of an army of insects and scavengers now moving towards the dead body of her captor and it felt like they were slowly singing a song that mimicked that of the trees. Sorrow, grief, thankfulness and joy. The song of death and decay.