The first thing Steven registered was grass—cool, damp, and swaying in the breeze. The next was pain: a dull ache in his joints, a tightness in his chest. He coughed once and blinked against the hazy light.
“Lucy?” he rasped.
A groan answered him. Just a few feet away, Lucy was lying on her side, blinking groggily as she pushed herself upright. Her red flannel pajama pants—decorated with little Santa Clauses and reindeer—were stained with grass and mud.
Steven looked down at himself. Same pajamas. He let out a dry laugh and muttered, “Well… this is not the cottage.”
They sat in a field that stretched endlessly in every direction. The grass came up to their waists in places, swaying like waves in the wind. The sky above them was lavender instead of blue. The sun sat low and pale, radiating warmth but casting no harsh shadows. Everything felt… softer. Quieter.
“Where are we?” Lucy asked.
Steven slowly stood, wincing as he stretched. “No idea. But this definitely isn’t Wisconsin.”
They turned in place, scanning the horizon. No roads. No power lines. No hum of cars. Just wild, open land and the occasional rise of a hill. The air smelled faintly floral, like it had passed through fields of herbs. In the distance, a large bird glided silently across the sky—its wings too long, its tail split like a ribbon.
“That’s not from any bird book I’ve seen,” Steven muttered.
Lucy squinted at the sun. “Even the light feels wrong.”
They stood in silence. No buildings. No signs of civilization. No sounds besides the grass moving and the occasional distant chirp. Everything was unfamiliar, and far too still.
“I don’t think we’re anywhere close to home,” Steven said finally.
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Lucy folded her arms. “Then where are we?”
Steven opened his mouth, then closed it. “I don’t know.”
The weight of it settled in—not with a dramatic crash, but slowly, like fog creeping in through an open window. They hadn’t just gotten lost. Something had changed. They didn’t know how they got here, or where “here” even was.
Then Lucy jerked back with a gasp.
“Ow! Something bit me!”
She slapped her arm and looked down. A small, green insect had latched onto her skin. It resembled a grasshopper, but its body was longer and its legs sharp like needles.
Steven took a step back just as one leapt onto his ankle and bit down. He yelped, swatting at it. More began to appear, springing out from the tall grass around them.
“They’re all over!” Lucy cried, batting one away from her neck.
“Run!” Steven shouted.
They sprinted through the field, the buzzing growing louder as the swarm chased them. Dozens of the bugs clung to their pajamas, their hair, their arms. Steven slapped wildly at his back. Lucy tripped, caught herself, and kept running.
The grass eventually broke into a small clearing with a narrow brook trickling through it. They stumbled toward it, breathless, and dropped to their knees. Water splashed over their hands and into their mouths. It was cold and sweet, and they didn’t care if it was safe.
They sat there, gasping, brushing bugs from their clothes and hair. Lucy examined one of the bites on her arm—already red and swollen.
Steven looked out at the tall grass they’d just escaped. The buzzing had faded, but he could still hear his pulse pounding in his ears.
“This place…” he said between breaths, “this place isn’t just different. It’s not Earth. Not even close.”
Lucy nodded, her voice low. “So what happened to Earth?”
Steven didn’t answer. He just stared into the moving water.
Then a voice carried through the clearing—gruff, frustrated, and distinctly human.
“Blast it all—come on, you stupid thing!”
They both froze.
“Did you hear that?” Lucy asked.
Steven stood up slowly. “Yeah. Let’s go find whoever that is.”
They followed the sound through the trees toward the voice, their feet squelching through wet soil and soft moss. Somewhere beyond this strange field, someone else was struggling with something. And maybe, just maybe, they could get some answers.
