Ethan's body ached as he stirred awake. For a long moment he thought he was in his own bed, wrapped in the same sheets he had kicked off countless mornings. But when he opened his eyes, the ceiling wasn't there. Instead, towering branches spread out like skeletal arms above him, their leaves whispering faintly in the morning breeze. Sunlight leaked through the canopy in fractured rays, painting the forest floor with shifting patches of gold.
His stomach tightened-not from hunger, but from realization. This isn't a dream.
The air smelled sharper here, tinged with damp moss and earth, nothing like the exhaust and fried food that clung to his city. A few feet away, his plastic grocery bag lay crumpled, the items inside miraculously intact: a bottle of water, two granola bars, a lighter, and the notepad with a cheap pen he had bought on impulse. That was all.
He rubbed his face, trying to think logically. "Okay. Step one: figure out where the hell I am. Step two: don't die." His voice sounded small against the endless quiet of the forest.
He forced himself to his feet, brushing off dirt and leaves. The ground beneath him was uneven, tangled with roots and patches of ferns. It would be easy to trip, easier still to get lost. No paths, no signs of civilization-only wilderness stretching in every direction. He could almost hear his coworkers laughing at the thought of him, the office drone, dumped into the middle of a forest with nothing but snacks and a Bic lighter.
Still, panic wouldn't help. Stay rational. Survive first. Answers later.
He uncapped the water and took a careful sip, then tucked it away. Food and water were limited-too precious to waste. Maybe, if he could find a river or stream, he could refill the bottle. That meant moving. He scanned the trees again, listening. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a strange cry echoed-half howl, half shriek. His skin prickled.
He hesitated. He could stay put, or he could follow the sound and hope it led to water... or people.
Gripping the grocery bag like a lifeline, Ethan started walking, his footsteps cautious on the undergrowth. Birds he didn't recognize darted overhead, flashes of green and red, their calls sharp and alien. A massive centipede-larger than any bug he'd ever seen-crawled across the base of a tree, making him recoil instinctively. Everything here seemed just a little off, just a little too big, too strange.
The cry came again, this time closer. Ethan froze, heart pounding. Was it an animal? A monster? A person? He crouched low, edging toward the sound, until he spotted movement through the trees.
A creature stood there-small, no larger than a rabbit, but with scales instead of fur and wide, alert eyes that gleamed like polished amber. It twitched nervously, sniffing the air, then darted into the underbrush. Ethan's stomach growled. His rational mind whispered food, but another voice countered: What if it's poisonous? What if killing it draws something worse?
He bit down on the thought, frustration gnawing at him. Back home, survival meant punching numbers into spreadsheets and clocking in on time. Here, survival meant deciding whether to risk poisoning himself just to quiet his stomach.
As he lingered, torn, the ground beneath his feet trembled faintly. A low rumble rolled through the forest, rattling leaves and sending birds scattering into the sky. Ethan froze, every muscle locking tight. That was no small animal. Something far larger was moving-and it was close.
Then he saw it.
The earth itself seemed to split open in jagged lines, a low grinding sound accompanying the motion. From the cracks rose a hulking form, its body covered in jagged, dark stone plates that glinted dully in the fractured sunlight. Muscles corded beneath the stone, shifting with each movement, and its four powerful legs ended in clawed feet that pressed against the forest floor, leaving shallow impressions in the dirt.
Its head was triangular, lizard-like, with two glowing amber eyes that scanned the area with a chilling intelligence. Every exhale sent a tremor through the ground, every step a reminder of its strength. The cracks along its armored back pulsed faintly, veins of molten-orange light tracing the flow of some unseen energy.
Ethan froze completely, heart hammering. He had no weapon, no plan, no idea if this thing was territorial—or hungry. Only instinct screamed at him to move, but even breathing felt like a risk.
The creature sniffed the air, and for a terrifying moment, its gaze locked on him. The forest seemed to shrink around him, and Ethan's mind raced: one wrong move, one careless twitch, and it could end him in an instant.
He pressed himself flat against a tree trunk, trying to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Every rational thought he had—the training in logic, the office spreadsheets, even the survival articles he'd skimmed online—felt useless. This wasn't a scenario he could predict.
The creature tilted its head, muscles tensing, but it didn't charge. Instead, with a slow, deliberate motion, it shifted its massive body, pressing its claws into the earth. Dust and pebbles lifted briefly, spinning lazily in the air. Then, with a low rumble that shook leaves from nearby branches, it retreated back into the fissure it had emerged from. The ground closed behind it, as though it had never been there.
Ethan didn't move for several long minutes, letting the forest settle around him. His legs shook so hard he had to sit against the tree, sweat rolling down his temples.
He finally exhaled, whispering to himself, "Okay… that… that was real. Definitely real."
For the first time, the reality of this world truly sank in: it wasn't just strange or magical. It was dangerous, unpredictable, and utterly alive—and survival would demand every ounce of his focus and caution.