A bit of a week
A week ago you started feeling odd and out of sorts, like the world wasn't quite right, but you couldn't focus on it without everything quickly righting itself. It began to feel cold, you could faintly hear the wind off in the distance, and occasionally there'd be the sensation of something brushing up alongside you. There was never anything there.
Five days ago the dreams started, strange bristling shapes and being lost in the woods. You'd pick your way through the snow and frost-covered debris to find that the trees were growing into a concrete opening, wood and stone leading down into a pitch-black tunnel. You always woke up before you could go any further.
Three days ago you noticed that animals kept watching you, crows or dogs or even odd birds. People around you were starting to worry how often you seemed to nod off, plus you kept shivering and nothing could stop it. Every time you closed your eyes you'd see the woods, the snow and the tunnel that wanted to draw you in. You were sure that there was something following you, it was always hidden in a crowd, or just out of sight, but you could see flashes of movement and hear its breathing.
A day ago the world just wouldn't keep itself in focus, trees grew through walls and everyone was unreal and faceless. The world had been covered in a layer of piercing, blinding white, and every other door opened onto a great void. Something with steel teeth followed you until you ran, and kept running down a corridor. Pitch dark and freezing, but that was only the way you could go. And then afterwards? Well that's where it gets fuzzy, there's just this large blank spot between where you were and where you are. Because where you are? Is definitely not home.
First, there's the matter of cutting yourself out of the burlap sack you're in- handy that you get a knife for that- and then there's the matter of the handful of strange beings that keep addressing you. Strange birds and a dog and snake, much larger than they should be and adorned in dilapidated finery, and they all want your loyalty. There's a game that you need to play, they say, it's a simple one. That's when you see the bodies, the dirty blades, and suddenly a tactical retreat seems like a very good idea.
So you leave, but wherever you are is a mess of buildings, some connected by hallways, some opening onto one another, but they're all connected underground, and empty. You take a chance and climb the stairs, but the place doesn't have a door to the outside world. The glass is solid too, and even where it's been broken out there's not enough space for you to squeeze through. And here, oh here, you can see the rest of the land. It's a city that stretches on in a great crescent, all amidst a sea of white snow. The glass sparkles and gleams in the distance, while the concrete stands out, cold and grey. There's not an exit to be seen, anywhere.
"It's not that bad" you hear, and then you turn and see one of them, a shoebill with gems tucked under its' feathers and hints of metal around its' neck. "We can make it more habitable, make sure that you survive and thrive" He bows, "we promise". He looks out at the snow, at the mountains, at the land with no other sign of life.
"Let me guide you home."