To an observer, one may worry that the wolf asleep in the grotto was in the midst of some sort of fit, thrashing about as she was, eyes closed tight. The mushrooms she had been gathering scattered about her form as if she had collapsed with little care for where they lay. Until she sat bolt upright, panting as if she had been deprived of air for some while.

Looking about her in an agitated manner, the tell-tale purple ooze now very well visible from a mushroom crushed underfoot in her panicked awakening. A deep growl sounded from her chest as she rose her large form, lashing out at all her scattered gatherings, breaking them into unusable tiny pieces. She had never been as good with the fungi as her sister had been. A satisfied huff left her jaws as she shook herself, sending fragments of twigs and leaves flying before she began the long stalk home.

What a strange dream...