Strange World

GAHRYE

Gahrye let their bags drop to the ground on the soft grass next to the dirt area where he'd landed. He had made it.

Thank the Creator, he'd made it.

His knee stung where it had been cut, and his heart pounded. But he was here.

Where was here?

Raising slowly to his full height, scanning the surrounds, he attempted to file through the overwhelming mix of scents and sights, but struggled.

Directly around him was beautiful, natural land—grass, trees, bushes, flowers. But everything was oddly placed. As if the Creator had suddenly become obsessed with straight lines, and symmetry. It set his teeth on edge. And the scents…