With crushing finality and great amount of relief, I struck the final blow on the stone stake, plunging a majority of its form into the tree, holding the rope twined around it quite nicely.

"Beautiful" I breathed as I looked upon my handy work. It, by all means was a nicely crafted hammock, and it better have been. I spent the better half of a day spinning vines into a strong enough rope to support my weight. Don't get me wrong, I was no artisan of hammocks, but for building my first one ever, and under the present circumstances, I couldn't help but feel a great deal of pride at my small accomplishment.

I slung myself into the cradling embrace of my woven creation with a great grunt, and a sigh as I absorbed my surroundings.

The twisted birches all around round me stood motionless in the soothing breeze that swept through my small clearing, their leaves still glistering from the dew of this morning's light rain. I couldn't help but drink in the serenity of it all, especially considering my initial reaction to this place, wherever it is. After all its not every day, the park you usually take as a short cut to your home suddenly becomes a seeming infinitely expansive wood. I was a little distressed at this realisation to say the least.

However, it never ceases to amaze me how quickly man is able to adapt to a situation. I had always heard of men and women placed in extraordinary survival situations and coming out grizzled and sometimes even maimed, but against all odds, coming out alive due to their own grit and resolve. I used to look at them and see what they did to survive. Id look at that and say "I could never do that, not even to save my life". Obviously I was wrong. One cant make that kind of assessment until its actually their ass on the line. Neither could I, because I was still basking in the glory of my latest catch.

In my first week in this forest, I was awoken every morning before the crack of dawn by a particular raven that would perch above my resting at the base of the large tree with a mushroom circle around it. Call me superstitious all you want but the circle made me feel a bit better about the possibility of lurking predators. Anyway, the raven would perch directly above me and screech and squawk till I was coerced into starting my day. Naturally I was disgruntled at this and eventually grew to hate the avian disturber.

I had attempted many means of trapping the bird so that I may dispose of it (and probably get a half decent meal out of it). However my attempts at cleverness all seemed for naught as time and time again the winged ruffian would evade my clutches, while still managing to wake me at the same time every day.

Eventually I became so overcome with frustration and sleep deprivation that I simply whipped a stone at it. To my surprise I struck the raven square in the head and it plummeted to the ground. Funny how the simplest solution can often be the most effective. It was at that time I was filled with, in hindsight, a rather frightening bout of bloodlust at the realization of my desires. I fell upon the dazed bird almost immediately, pinning it to the ground before swiftly and brutally bringing the base of my palm down with all my might and rage upon the raven's small form. With a sickening crunch, the bird folded beneath my weight.

It by no means tasted like breaded chicken, but the sleep that came with it made it seem that much sweeter.

There I hung in my hammock, picking my teeth with the wishbone of my avian arch nemesis. The fire in the clearing had gone out long ago but I did not care. I finished my hammock, I killed the raven, and it was a beautiful day in the wood. Edgar Allen Poe would be proud.

I was vividly enjoying the fact that I was allowed to sleep below my great mushroom-encircled tree till noon today, when I heard a distant noise. Humming tones, too distant to make out. A shiver went up my spine. Predators? Monster? No, Voices. Increasing in clarity. Curiosity now dominating my mind, I swung out of my hammock, grabbed my back pack, and started toward the noises.

Other people? Perhaps. Maybe they got lost just like I did. I stepped carefully as I neared the voices, still too muffled to make out, but they were on the move. I stared moving nearly parallel to them on what I believed to be an intercept course.

As I neared still, I heard not footsteps, but the clip clop of hooves on a gravel path. Horses? Whoever they were, they were mounted. Was I sent back in time? Knights perhaps? Or worse, Conquistadors? Hell it seemed just as likely, especially considering half the flora and fauna here was nowhere to be found in the north American field guide I had in my school bag. I could be anywhere.

"Hey you!"

I froze mid stride, and my stomach flipped. Every muscle in my body seized as my heart rate skyrocketed.

"Yeah you, in the bushes" said a young and fierce voice, erupting from the group on the road, whom were still obscured from view. "What are you doing?"

Oh Shit.

"Uh" I managed " I mean you no harm" I raised my voice progressively to assure they could hear me. "I'm lost, and I'm not exactly sure where I've ended up, I'm sorry if I've trespassed or anything.

"Well quit hiding in the bushes then silly" Another more jubilant voice offered.

Both of the voices so far were female. Odd, that rules out knights or conquistadors, but you can never be too careful.

"Okay, I'm going to step out of the bushes with my hand up, please don't shoot or anything." I Maintained my raised and clear manner of speaking to prevent any misunderstandings.

This elicited some quiet talks within group on the road. There had to be six of them at least. Its was jumble of faint words, some mention of tricks and traps were detected in their talk. They were suspicious of me and probably for good reason. The talking finally ceased.

"Okay" Another female spoke out "y'all come out nice and slow, and we wont hurt ya, ah promise" The voice drawled in a southern twang. " But don't you try any funny business ya hear?"

Now I was really confused. any thesis of what this group could be, had now been dissolved. But regardless, this was the moment of truth.

I raised my hands from my sides and unballed them. Exposing my palms. I took long calculated steps through the bushes. It was going smoothly till my foot was caught by a root. With a rather emasculating scream, I plummeted into the middle of the road, stopping my fall with my forearms allowing the fine gravel to dig into my skin, eliciting some surprised gasps from the road troupe.

"Son of a.." I said louder than necessary but stopping myself. Mostly frustrated by the surprise rather than the bleeding forearms.

"Oh my, are you okay" a much softer voice asked, sounding legitimately concerned.

That much at least was comforting to note.

"Yeah, I'm fine" I grunted as I returned to my feet.

Once I finished picking gravel from my arms I turn to look upon my discoverers. Standing before me was no less than six Technicolor cartoon ponies all looking upon me with concerned intrigue.

Now I'm not sure if it was the shock of this sight or my low blood sugar, though probably a combination of the two, I soon found my vision swimming. As the tendrils of unconsciousness gripped at my mind and my vision darkened further, one thought crossed my mind before my head crashed into the gravel.

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...

Author's Note

This is the beginning of my first work of fan fiction and I'm planning on it being a long one. That said, I REALLY appreciate any feed back or constructive criticism. I will be releasing more chapters as I find the time, and I hope I can make or keep this story engaging and entertaining for people to read.