You stand in a redwood forest. Immense, straight trunks rise like pillars, their bark a rusty crimson. The canopy is so thick the light falls in slanted, dusty shafts, leaving the forest floor in a perpetual, shifting twilight.

Between the giants, thinner, identical-looking trees crowd together, creating a confusing, repeating pattern. It’s hard to tell which trunk you passed a moment ago.

A soft snap echoes from somewhere to your left. It’s the only sound besides the distant call of an unfamiliar bird.

When you turn, there’s nothing there. Just the maze of red and shadow.