6. You awaken in a thicket of things that are not quite trees but seem as though they might be related to trees. Flowers in strange, unsettling shapes blossom, and although the clamor of insects and bird is immense, you do not see any of them. You are beset with a strange sense of urgency and wanderlust. You may stumble across a strange, smooth-sided tower that glows from within with a light like the sun. It is surrounded by strange symbols half-overgrown with the alien vines, but touching it hurts--unless you are a Legendary, in which case it triggers an aching moment of insight that is gone as soon as it arrives. You feel as though you have learned a great and vital secret--but it is gone.She woke the same way she always woke, slowly, and never quite completely. The difference between sleeping and waking was negligible to her, simply two sides of the same life-death-existence that she led, that all things led. When she woke, this new land did not seem any different to her than the Swamp. She could feel it in her very marrow, deep in her bones, her flesh, her pelt, the very things that made up her walking, breathing, bleeding form that this place, despite the morbid flowers that hung over her face and brushed her mouth and the vines that lay over her sprawled limbs, was the same place that she had always known. It was the same as her, and the trees and the not trees, it was all the same. What made up this world was no different from what she was made off. Her vision went in and out of being able to tell the difference between tree and flower and not able able to tell anything apart at all.
She lay there, very still, barely breathing. The earth beneath her thrilled the same way all things thrilled in their existence. The feeling echoed in her bones and spoke of a universal being that she could not deny. As she lay there she could feel flowers blooming and dying against her skin, rustled by her ears in the invisible wind, bursting through her flesh and making her one with them just as she knew they were one with her. She was content to lay there, eerily still, for a very long time, only occasionally opening her eyes to give away her existence as a kin with eyes that blinked and glowed. Eventually though, she found herself getting up, pulling plants with her and feeling some fall away with a brush of vine against her back or the caress of petals down her sides.
Her movements delineated her, in some way, from the plants that only swayed in the breeze, but ultimately one movement was not so different from others. Even rocks moved and changed with time, simply too slow, sometimes, for kin to comprehend. She was drawn away from the spot that she was woken in and pulled between the trees-but-not-trees, the morbid flowers, and the swaying corpses, all kin and plant at the same time, all around her, in the earth, the plants, in the air, in her very flesh. She walked and walked, leaving bits and pieces of herself everywhere, and picking up other pieces, new-old pieces in return. She kept walking until she was faced by a smooth-faced tower, covered in vines, in her, in life.
It glowed out from beneath the vines and she was drawn to touch it. The pain was ephemeral, only a product of her mind and she kept touching it, sinking into the feeling because it was one that was shared by her the tower and all the plants and creatures around her. She felt it spreading underneath her hooves and up the tower, through her bones. She felt it in the flowers that drooped low against her side and the singing of insects that must populate this strange-different-same world. She felt it and it was comforting. She felt it and it was life and death and everything in between. She felt it and she knew it was existence.