You begin on the long journey eastwards. You choose not to look back behind you as you trudge silently across the grass, hearing only the occasional chirp above you.
The sun traverses the cloudless sky inch by inch, shortening your shadow as the hours flow by. By the time the trees in the distance begin to feel nearer, the sunshine is directly overhead. You pause to take a break. The grass is still cool and inviting, dotted with dandelions. You close your eyes for a moment.
Tangerine hues bleed across the sky like watercolor on tissue paper. Venus stares intently at you through the clouds… and appears to jitter a little.
Actually, now that you think about it, the entire sky is shaking, as are the trees in the distance. On closer inspection, it is you who is moving. You hazard looking down, only to see the grass gone. It has been replaced with a meager pile of hay heaped on wood.
You take stock of the situation and conclude that you are on a horse-drawn cart racing east. Your arms are tied behind you uncomfortably, but posture appears to be the least of your worries at the moment.
Your stomach grumbles audibly.