Shadewood a setting sun, or rolling waves at sea

The dream, hallucination, whatever it was, burrowed to the back of her skull like a little maggot. She felt the after-effects of dread ebbing in to confusion and back again; the formless became corporeal before her eyes, and she recognized the red woman from earlier. To say that it put her at ease is an understatement. She took in a shuddering breath of the autumn air and deflated as she exhaled, feeling the pounding of her rabbit heart, hearing her pulse in her ears begin to regulate. Then there came the hesitating cadence of Maiira's voice, and the nameless woman didn't know what to say.

Ghosts seemed like an adequate explanation, for now.

It.. yes... Must have been, she murmured. Useless. Utterly useless. She loathed this feeling of inadequacy—and this grogginess! What she wouldn't give for a month's rest and some fresh meat... Ah, right, Maiira—It smells good, says the wolf in her absent-minded way, remembering the quest that Maiira had gone on.

It was so nice to have company again.

Am I... a ghost? She wondered, and accidentally asked aloud as she watched the rabbit carcasses roll towards her. Offered up so eagerly by a kind-hearted stranger, to which she gave an appreciative (if a bit dopey) smile while she made to lean towards them and grab a foot with her teeth; so soft, so careful.