Her eyes open with laze. Opening them exposed her to vivid colors but it must have been twilight. The lights were dim but the flowers and trees and all the plant life was glowing. The exotic fluorescence clued her in that something was wrong. She shouldn’t have been here - she shouldn’t have been anyway. Her plane had crashed. But here she was. And she was alone. Now sitting up she could fully look around herself. There were no other bodies and no plane. No evidence that something went wrong besides her sitting in the middle of this garden.

She then pushed herself off the ground. She wasn’t even bruised from a crash. Her muscles only felt fatigue and not trauma from strain or brute force.

The flowers around her seemed to breathe with consciousness. They seemed more conscious then even she was. Is this death or life or what happened?

She would have to find out.

And there was a path in front of her.

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