But it wasn't just the fire that struck. It was the torch itself.

Dazed, perhaps, it turns back to Rachel. But it still has Ellen's face, even as it's lower half shifts to the dinosaur legs, the stubby tail protruding toward Jo, too tall and too large and entirely too human.

It's not the Drode but whatever it is got in her head and found what it looked like and taunted her.

There's no time to morph. With another yell, Rachel swings at its head again.