Something was wrong, and Wisp couldn't quite place the dread. Was it just the residual guilt from their fight? Was it approaching the green cloud in which she'd screwed up her life in the first place, this time with a companion? No reason she mulled over seemed to strike the right chord, and the Wisp carried on with uncertainty that faded with each passing step. The feeling didn't fade, but her care to focus on the problem did.
As the days passed by, she moved from leader to the lead, and didn't seem to notice the change. In fact, she grew listless as they drew further from that beach; not searching each inch of the ground as she had been for months, not talking much, but finding she wasn't as afraid as she had been, either. That was a good thing! She'd already been inside the fog once, maybe it wouldn't even be able to hurt her this time (yeah right), or it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it was just having a companion, though the rush to keep him from danger had dulled -- why was that? The more Wisp tried to focus on it, the more she found herself simply... shifting to something else, her thoughts fickle and mind hard to control.

She could not look the problem in the eyes, though she was aware of it in the back of her mind.

Sarge was twitchy in a way she just... wasn't. Should she be? Shouldn't she be afraid? Instead, she was happy to rest and gather their wits for a while. Eating whatever she could scavenge (she'd been so hungry lately, it was unlike her!), drinking when she could, largely following the wolfdogs lead in preparing for their journey. And when he delved into the mist....
She followed, without hesitation, a far cry from the panic of weeks ago.
Perhaps she'd resolved herself to this, to the potential end. Perhaps she was faking her bravado -- perhaps she didn't even notice the distinct lack of fear, loping along with Sarge without much urgency.

Inhale. She heard it too, the urging. She couldn't help but take brief, short inhales through her nose every minute or so as she moved, but she resented the voice telling her what to do. It was the wrong one, though each bid of the ghostly plea seemed to shake her resolve. Why shouldn't she? What was so bad about it here? Why was she waiting for the Dream Visitor to tell her what to do instead?
Sarge paused to start searching, but Wisp forged forward, taking her first rather clumsy steps farther up the mountain without noticing. Her sweeping gaze, unsteady, skimmed scathingly along the foothills, but she did not stop to inspect.

Faster, she urged herself, but her limbs kept the same sluggish, unsteady pace. A single stumble very nearly sent her sprawling, her paws tangling as she tried to force them faster than apparently she could currently process.