Feet sinking into the earth, and you are utterly aware of it. Shallow, gnawing sensation. Ahead of you, a manic display of foliage threatens to cut you off from the real world. It doesn’t feel right, not at all, but it feels nice. Nice—slick and easy—is a good stretch away from the burning empire. A stranger to your compass of good and evil. The tension makes your heart beat and your senses rush open. Before you fall too deep a rabbit crosses your path, looks back at you, beckoning. Do you follow or keep sinking? You can’t see more than ten feet beyond but the smell of carrot cake and fresh-crushed mint leaves fill the dense air. You can just tell there is something waiting, a monster with no vocabulary for "trap".