She stood there a long time before the alien moved. She heard the downstairs door open and close and she knew Mac was outside and that the two were approaching each other. The alien finally moved from her field of vision.
Listening, she heard the alien's calm, whistling voice but she could not make out what he said. She could only hear the raving of her husband and this she did not want to hear.
When the shotgun blast came she jumped as if she herself had been hit and once again she was flooded with compassion for the creature from another world somewhere who had come in friendship and who had been given something hateful in return.
She went to the window but she could see nothing. She did not dare go downstairs again with Mac in the mood he was in. She sat in an armchair at the window looking out into the barn lot illuminated by the lone electric light high in the windmill. And eventually, she did not know when, she fell asleep.
When she woke up the day was just dawning and with a rush she remembered everything that had happened the night before and she found she had slept through the night in the chair without removing her clothes. When she stood up, her muscles screamed protestingly. She looked out into the yard and saw that the light in the windmill was still burning.
She went to Mac's bedroom, expecting to find him sprawled out across his bed. But his bed had not been slept in. Downstairs she expected to find him, head in hands, asleep at the kitchen table. But he was not there and the shotgun was not in its place on the wall.
She found the gun on the doorstep. But Mac wasn't in sight. Dobie came up to her and nuzzled her hands.
"Where is he Dobie?" she asked. "Where's Mac?"
Dobie turned and trotted before her, looking back at her as if to say, "This is the way."
She found Mac behind the barn.