tangled in the years

Though years had passed since her death, the eternity between her last breath and her opening her eyes once more passed unrealized by Gwenevere Adravendi, to whom it felt as though no time had passed at all. It was therefore with some surprise that she realized she was in no pain from the bear attack, that her breathing had cleared of the pneumonia, that she moved with more ease than she had in years. But the world around her had not had such a rejuvenation - in the moment that it took her to blink it had changed to darkness, and strangeness, and that was when Gwenevere realized that she was dead, because surely this strange world was the afterlife she'd never really believed in. But that seemed odd too, because even as she stood there puzzling over it she realized that the world around her seemed far more... substantial than she herself was. Like she wavered when she moved too fast, but time was still passing at a normal rate. Grass still rustled in the wind, she could still hear the normal small sounds of animals and birds as they went about their lives. Was she, then, a ghost? She thought it might be possible, though she in life had never really considered it.

Drifting aimlessly she wandered the moor that had been her favorite haunt in life and was, apparently, now to be her haunt in death. The amount of changes confused and unsettled her - not just the changes like the weird sky and the glowing plants and crystals she passed, but the changes to the pack structures. The wall was larger, with platforms and hides and all sorts of things. The sprawling den she'd built was all but abandoned, quiet and lonely feeling without her pups there. Where were they, anyway? Where was everyone for that matter? She flowed to the center of the stone circle and sat to think, troubled and unknowing that she sat upon her own grave.