[Aubrey doesn’t have a second to look at the image; it’s only leftover intuition that told her it was Sunny’s drawing, but that’s not right at all. Akechi crushes it with prejudice. Subconscious upset. She trusts him.]

I don’t remember collapsing.

[Again—disruption prompting wakefulness, or at least awareness. Aubrey’s on her feet in an instant, and the overgrowth closes in. It never fully went away. It’s the wrong season; summer at home, cold here, and just like that first month, there’s no defense. What’s next, a swarm of snow angels—?

[Thoughts are dangerous. Forget the flowers. Aubrey grabs Akechi’s wrist and bolts, grabbing her weapon along the way—a stick, gnarled and pathetic. It’s nothing. It won’t save him.]

You’re the one with dream experience! [It’s his fault.] How do you wake up?