You're hiking through a dense, misty forest, the kind that seems to go on forever. The trees here are towering, ancient, their leaves rustling like whispers in the wind. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the path beneath your feet is barely visible, overgrown with moss and twisted roots.

As you push forward, you feel an odd sense of being watched, but when you turn, there's nothing—just the oppressive quiet of the woods. After several minutes, you come across a small clearing where the sunlight breaks through the canopy. The moment you step into the light, you hear the soft sound of hooves on the ground.