"Neither do I," admits Jack, the light from his staff dimming as the uncertainty from before creeps back in. Where are they? What's weird is that he doesn't question the presence of the fox in is arms -- he doesn't know how she's supposed to be him, but he knows that she's right about that.

"Oh!" he says. "Jack. Jack Frost. And this is, uh..."

The fox points her nose up at him and gives an amused sniff. "Mary," she supplies.

"And this is Mary!" concludes Jack brightly.