Magic. Sort of. Should she explain that they're dreaming? She's never met this woman before, and it's hard to judge, with newer arrivals, whether such an explanation would put them at ease or make them really nervous. Daine flattens her feathers, glad that she's in one of her smaller, less intimidating bird shapes. Starlings might be imposing in a flock, but by themselves, there's not much to fear.

I won't hurt you, she adds for good measure. She hasn't missed that subtle shifting away. My name is Daine.