The red witch falters, looking at the mysterious plants that are impossible to grow in her own plane of existence.

She moves on.

She is not here for pretty flowers. She is looking for something. A locators spell will not work in this sphere, she must use her own two eyes and find this, and find it soon if her foresight is right, which it always, always is.

The forest of red listens as the red witch paces its paths, and it breathes. In, out, in, out. The gentle swaying of the plants is not a sign of danger to the one who comes from the sphere with wind, but here she is unknowing and unaware of the signs of real danger.

The red witch sees it. A clump of brown in a sea of red and green. A mushroom of beige colours and with a perfectly spherical shape.

The forest holds its breath as she pounces.

Pausing at the sudden stillness of the forest, the red witch feels uneasy. She pushes it to the back of her mind, behind a magical barrier, and takes three of the mushroom spheres and puts them carefully in her cloak pockets.

The forest holds perfectly still so as not to alert the stalking prey.

She has seen a lot, this red witch, but never a still, silent forest. It makes her feel uneasy.

The sound of a running deer catches the two predators attention. The forest and witch look to it in unison.

The entire earths seems to shake as branches crash down around the frightened fawn, the red witch screams when she finds she can’t move, just to find she can’t hear herself.

She realises she can’t remember the way back to the portal as blood splatters the ground around her.

The trees are still once more.

Watching the trapped prey realise the future with bated breath, tense for its next move. This foreigner strayed too far.