Freya blinks through her grogginess at the creature before her head flops back down to the pillow. Moving was difficult. She was stiff, sore, and her head so damn foggy...

It takes her significant effort, and even two tries, to successfully push herself up to sit. Freya stays like that for a bit, rubbing her face and scrubbing through her tangled hair and ignoring the small plant-headed creature.

She didn't remember how she got here. What time was it? Events slowly filtered back to her through the oppressive sleep-haze. Camping. The Brand. Pen had... found her? Freya didn't recall that part well, and she didn't think that was the grogginess' fault.

The Brand. Her hand finds it on her shoulder, and the dim light of the electronic clock is enough to illuminate the stark-white mark, fading out like circuit patterns where the arrows should have been. She... recognized this, she thought. Remembered her other self callin' it "messed up." What did that mean?

Well, it didn't matter now. Freya looks at her hands, curling and uncurling her sleep-stiff fingers. She was human. And... really goddamn parched, now that she thought about it. But first thing's first; Freya turns her tired gaze to the Alraune. It... didn't seem like panicked jabbering? She was getting better at telling these things.

"Pen's okay?" She croaks, just a little.