You hurry across the street. A horn screams and you turn just enough to see headlights coming at you. It’s too late to move.

There’s a flash of light.

The blinding white light fades, replaced by dappled sunlight filtering through a canopy of vibrant green leaves. The sounds of the city—the honking, the screeching tires—are gone. Instead, birdsong fills the air, along with the rustling of branches and animal calls you can't quite identify.

You're lying on soft moss and grass, surrounded by towering trees unlike any you've seen before. Their bark has an almost iridescent quality, shimmering faintly in the light. The air smells fresh, almost intoxicating with floral scents mixed with earth.

As you try to sit up, your head spinning, you hear movement nearby. Footsteps—no, paw steps? Something is approaching through the underbrush. You catch a glimpse of movement between the trees: a figure, humanoid but... different.

The footsteps stop. Whoever—or whatever—it is has noticed you.