Bearclaw Valley Your name on my lips, tongue tied

The air coagulates in the near distance, where fog hangs like frothed saliva an inch or two above the surface of stillrift. It takes the shape of something compact at first, lunging around the stones towards her. It's got tall ears veeing up, then back as it draws closer.
It grows thicker as Indra stares at it. The ears form against the back, merging, becoming a hump. The girl blinks in slow motion.
As the shimmering shape opens its eyes, one glows fiercely gold. It is like staring at the looming bypass of Rivenwood --
Indra startles awake. She expects to see sunlight glaring down at her but instead it is dark, cold, and she is alone; it is late in the evening. She reaches for her rabbit in a daze as she seeks comfort from the strange dream -- then remembers the offering.