It only takes a bit of wandering to determine that this cannot be real, the interlocking spaces that shouldn't, don't fit together, all of it unfamiliar, no memory of how she came to be here. This is a dream, but it isn't her dream. None of this is familiar.

She's alone, everything sharply, disturbingly silent as she walks slowly through the hallways jammed together like a frustrated attempt at a puzzle or a collage. It's all super fucking creepy but it feels like she's here for a reason, and that doesn't necessarily make it better, but it does push her forward.

It's easy enough to hear a second set of echoed footsteps, standing out against her own, and she halts quickly. She puts her back against the wall, staring down the hall, trying to pick out where it's coming from. Now that she listens closer it's not footsteps, really, it's... clicking. More legs than two. An animal?

Then it rounds the corner, and she freezes.

It is a wolf.

It is a wolf and it is just here, chilling, and now looking at her.

What does one do with wolves? Who the fuck dreams about this shit?

"Hhhi," she says, her voice coming out thinner and breathier than usual.