“Anna, I’ve been looking all over for you,” one of the firefighters said. It was Anna’s father. [Pam] hardly recognized him. His face was [preternaturally pale, and his eyes seemed to glow faintly red — reflecting the still-glowing embers of the fire? Pam wondered, not yet suspecting what forces were working through him. From his words, it seemed that the poor man had not yet realized that his daughter was dead, Pam thought sadly. She watched the soot-stained firefighter kneel over Anna’s body in the snow. He took off his helmet and held Anna’s hand.] “You okay?” he asked. “I’m fine,” Anna answered[, sitting up. Pam gasped in shock. The girl had been indisputably dead for the last ten minutes. How was this possible? Not even in the most forbidden of dark magic books had Pam seen anything that could explain this seemingly miraculous revival.] Anna gave her father a quick hug. “See you later, Dad,” she said. Pam [decided not to question her friend’s resurrection for the moment. Anna seemed unaware of her own death, so Pam led her to the barn office without comment. But Pam was cautious: it was likely that this was not the same Anna that she had once known.] Dr. Crandal was putting a fresh bandage on Brandy’s wound. “Pam, please get [a clean pair of Sturmhose for this reprehensible war criminal],” he said. “They’re in the closet under the hayloft ladder. Anna, could you [sedate] Brandy for a second?” While Anna [pressed the ether-soaked rag over Brandy’s face,] she looked around the barn office. The Pony Pals’ [bound volumes of NYPD Blue fanfiction] were piled in a corner. Portable kennels were set up around the #DetectivePony