The best thing about her old body had been her height.
When she was younger, she kept her head and shoulders lowered, as if that could somehow hide how tall she was.
It only made her look like a tall girl with bad posture.
In college, she had learned to love running, and learning the correct technique had taught her to hold her head high and square her shoulders.
In high heels, she could look intimidating, especially to men who were half a head shorter than her.
She rarely used her height that way, but in corporate life, it had helped her more than once.
This body was much smaller, almost petite.
She carefully brushed a hand over one arm.
It was dirty, but she could feel the velvety smoothness of her skin.
This body was definitely younger, and it looked alarmingly skinny, maybe malnourished.
No wonder that short sprint had nearly killed her.
She still had a lingering taste of iron in her mouth.
She scratched her head, pondering what it meant, and a couple of long curls dropped onto her bare chest.
She twisted the hair between her fingers and glared at it.
The hair was long, curly, and… blond.
Great.
She hated blond hair.
Her naturally jet-black, straight bob had been her pride.
She wondered if her face was different as well.
With trembling fingers she touched her cheeks, her nose, and her lips.
Those wild eyebrows felt familiar.
It was her face, maybe?
She would make sure once she found a reflective surface.
She then checked the gashes on her thigh.
They didn’t look very deep, but some blood was still seeping from them.
Venya grabbed a handful of grass and whatever other plants were within reach.
It wasn’t an ideal solution, but her hands were even dirtier.
Grimacing, she wiped away most of the dirt to see the damage more clearly.
Without proper care, the wounds would soon become infected.
But maybe it didn’t matter.
This was a dream, after all.
It had to be.
“This is too realistic,” she muttered under her breath.
She wanted to wake up back in her own comfy bed.
She needed to think clearly to deal with the shitty client on her shitty project.
After a night this bad, showing up to the customer meeting in this state would earn her a one-way ticket out of the company.
“Venya!
Wake up!” She shot to her feet and shook her fist at the sky, then slapped her cheeks and pinched them until they burned.
It didn’t help.
She was still here, but hearing her own voice comforted her.
Her voice, at least, was still hers.
She let out a breath and her shoulders relaxed.
“Let’s face it.
I am dead.” A bitter laugh escaped her.
The laughter was quiet at first, but soon enough, it rose into the night sky.
The surrounding wilderness echoed it back.
Her eyes filled with hot tears.
The night was not very cold, but it was not exactly warm either, and her naked body shivered as a reminder of her lonely predicament.
So, after gathering herself, her sore legs trembling, Venya followed the narrow path.
She tried to step carefully, avoiding small rocks, sticks, and anything that might hurt her sore soles further.
To cheer herself up, or more likely, distract herself from the pain and fatigue, she sang every terrible disco song she could remember.
She kept moving, slowly but steadily.
The scenery around her had changed as well.
Small fields began to appear between the stretches of forest.
Those were unmistakable signs of people.
She stopped to look, her eyes brightening.
“Finally,” Venya said, her voice breaking.
She swallowed, rubbing her dry, sore throat.
A cup of hot green tea with a slice of lemon flashed vividly through her mind after all that singing.
She could almost taste it on her tongue, and her mouth watered.
But instead of warm tea, all she got was a passing breeze that made her shoulders shiver, and she kept moving on.
Before long, night was turning into morning.
The sun started to peek out over the hills, and the birds woke all at once, announcing themselves loudly.
She would have enjoyed the show at any other time, but right now, the pain in the soles of her feet was almost too much to bear.
Hope leapt in her chest when she saw a thin line of smoke rising into the sky.
There must be a house or a campfire.
And that meant people and help.
The path was no longer a path.
It had become a wide road leading to a rural village.
Small timber houses huddled together along the road beneath steep, crooked roofs.
The houses’ small round windows made the village look like a fucking storybook.
She almost expected Hansel and Gretel to come skipping around the next corner.
What else, she thought wryly.
The village still seemed to be sleeping as Venya slipped between the houses and peered around corners, hoping to find one sympathetic person before the entire village saw her naked.
But there was not a single soul to be found.
Was the village empty?
Venya raised an eyebrow.
Maybe she should go into one of the houses, or at least find something to wear?
So far, she hadn’t noticed any drying laundry or anything that would even vaguely resemble cloth.
But she had seen smoke rising from the village, so there had to be someone there.
Then she arrived at some kind of open space, perhaps a market square?
She noticed a lone cat licking one paw and looking at Venya with complete indifference.
Then a rooster opened its beak and crowed.
It might as well have been a starting pistol.
A cacophony followed: roosters crowed, the cat meowed and vanished, dogs barked, and people emerged shouting.
She jumped, tripped over her own feet, and fell.
She threw out her hands to break the fall, but they softened the impact only slightly.
That was just enough to keep her head from cracking into a million pieces when it struck the cobblestones.
Maybe I’m finally waking up, Venya managed to think as the darkness swallowed her.
Not exactly the warmest welcome to a new world, is it?