"It's okay," Ivy said, her voice as calm as the deep pool beneath her. "I'm not a ghost. Just a woman taking a bath."
She did not look at her reflection. The water would hold her truth well enough.
The hiker blinked. Her gaze traveled over Ivy's body—the dark hair on her legs, the thick triangle at her groin, the soft fuzz on her upper lip that had grown unchecked for three months. Ivy watched recognition dawn, not of a name, but of a possibility. The hiker's hand slowly lowered. She sat down on a rock, still staring, but now with a kind of wonder.