Would he tell? Would she have more of them? Another episode... vision, fit, that would leave her crippled, gasping on the blood-soaked ground? How was she supposed to explain that? That it was just memories of a life that she'd never lived but which felt so much more real than the one she was actually living. How was she supposed to—

You can talk about it.

No! Her head shot up, eyes bulging with fear for the few, agonizing seconds before she could wrestle her expression back under some semblance of control. No, she repeated, softer. Don't freak out, she chided herself. That's what got her in this whole, awful mess in the first place. It's fine. It's nothing, really. It wasn't nothing, but she couldn't tell her that. She couldn't tell anyone.

She huffed out a soft breath as Tove moved back from the entrance and changed the subject. She felt her tail swish back and forth a couple times at her heels and tensed, trying to still it, her skin prickling. I don't know, she murmured with a somewhat helpless shrug, looking around the den. She could still see the little imprint in the dirt her motionless body had once nestled perfectly within. It looked so small now. She placed a paw within it, feeling something like nostalgia threaten to overcome her. It's... familiar, I guess.