The moment Andres stepped into the forest—
The world changed.
Not visually at first.
Not dramatically.
But subtly.
Like the air itself had become heavier.
The sound behind him—the open plains, the wind, the sense of space—
It didn’t vanish.
It stopped mattering.
As if the forest was a separate system entirely.
A closed domain.
Andres hesitated just inside the tree line.
His instincts screamed at him again.
Not in words.
Not clearly.
But as pressure.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Leave.
He swallowed.
“…Too late now.”
And kept walking.
The Silence Inside the Forest
The deeper he went, the more unnatural it became.
No insects.
No birds.
No rustling wind through branches.
Not even the sound of his own footsteps carried normally.
It felt like the forest was absorbing noise instead of reflecting it.
Andres frowned.
“This isn’t normal ecology…”
Then stopped.
“…Why am I thinking about ecology?”
He let out a breath.
A humorless one.
“…I’m starving in another world and still overthinking.”
But even his sarcasm couldn’t fully mask the unease creeping into him.
Because something was watching.
He couldn’t see it.
But he could feel it.
Not like eyes on skin.
But like pressure behind thought.
As if something in the forest was evaluating him.
Not as prey.
Not as threat.
But as something unfamiliar.