"Right, then," she sighs. "A healer it is."

She doesn't understand how she could be hungry or thirsty if she's – but Lan Wangji hadn't mentioned it as a way to tell, so perhaps the ghosts inhabiting (haunting?) this place look and act just as if they were still alive.

The waitrat has come with her food; she picks at a piece of cheese, moodily, and presses a hand to her side to see how her wound is feeling.

(Still sore. Very. It will probably need stitches.) "Is there one nearby you could direct me to?"