Copper and rot, thick enough to coat the back of the throat. The ground beneath her fingers was warm, almost feverish, and slick with something she didn't want to identify.
The second thing was the dark.
Not the soft dark of a bedroom at night, but a pressing, hungry dark that seemed to lean in close, breathing against her skin.
She pushed herself up on trembling arms. Her head pounded. Her throat burned like she'd swallowed glass.
Slowly, shapes resolved. Twisted buildings, their silhouettes jagged against a blood-red sky. A gnarled, blackened tree stretched skeletal branches overhead, its bark weeping something shiny and slow.
In the distance, something screamed. Not human. Not quite.
A low growl rumbled from the shadows to her left, and two pinpricks of red light blinked open in the dark.
