"I should hope not," Greta says, wrinkling her nose as she gets to her feet. She doesn't think his injuries would pursue him into the waking world - it's not as if her last odd dream experience had her picking enormous hairs out of her clothes in the morning - but she's hardly an expert. And she hesitates to put anything past the Rift.

And oh, dear, she really has put the idea of bears into his head. "This doesn't seem like the sort of place for bears," she says, even as she scans the trees for any tell-tale patches of dark fur. "But compared to Mister Booth, a bear would probably be sweet." At least bears only attack for sensible reasons, like protecting their young. Booth had just seemed arbitrarily nasty. She gives the Balladeer a pensive look. "Are they often like that? Or were they, before you came through the Rift?"