By the time Altan reached the edge of the forest a crisp wind had blown some gloomy clouds over the sun, plunging the world into a haze as a light fog began to roll in. Zipping up his sweater and stuffing his hands in his pockets, Altan cursed under his breath as Goldilock was nowhere to be seen. He had been quite proud of the insult, and committed to the name on his way out. His eyes stalked through rows of coniferous trees, hunting for any sign of movement. The stupid fog concealed farther details so Altan crept forward, keeping his breaths quiet despite the excitement drumming in his chest. He was a wolf, powerful, relentless, and knew the deer could only run for so long.
     His eyes swept the ground and he sneered as off to the left he barely saw the scuffed up ground and footprints from their brawl the other day. Of course the rain had washed away most of the tracks. However, that sneer quickly turned into a smirk as a little further left than that, a fresh track of footprints were pressed into the still damp earth, leading both into and out of the forest. He wasted no time in drawing his knife and setting off into the forest, following the tracks until grass and foliage obscured them. He gripped his knife harder.
The gloomy sky carried a brittle wind that swept through bushes and trees, causing their brittle leaves to whisper loudly as Altan passed through the underbrush. Fog and irregular shadows disguised broken tree trunks and clusters of rocks as Goldilock, which only served to frustrate him. A twig would snap and Altan would leap towards the source, only to find small black squirrels scurrying away. Many times Altan could have sworn he heard the hushed breathing of his target, or the shifting of clothes. Every time he discovered it was only the chattering wind. He wasn't exactly sure how long it had been, however as the cold began to crawl under his skin, Altan's motivation began to rapidly decrease. Is this really worth it? I could always come back a look another, warmer day. This damn cold is pissing me off- it's barely even Fall! He thought, flexing his fingers to try and encourage the blood to return to them.
     Overhead, nestled in the branches of an ancient oak tree, a raven squawked its ugly song. Altans eyes snapped up, watching as a flock of ravens took flight, gliding through the rows of trees towards what seemed to be a clearing. Altan sighed, redirecting himself and following the dark birds. In his haste to find Goldilock, he'd totally disoriented himself, so hopefully the clearing would give him some idea of where he was. He hadn't gone that far, and would probably be able to see his house looming in the distance. Pocketing his knife, Altan pushed through a pungent gangly bush, his eyes swept the small clearing... and he froze, jaw falling open. There was Goldilock, right there, standing alone right in the middle of the clearing. But that wasn't why Altan was so baffled. No, not even close.
Goldilock was planted in the middle of what looking to be a circle of bulbous mushrooms and toadstools, glimmering with the colours of the rainbows and puffing out clouds of shimmering spores. He clutched what looked to be a small glass vial in his hand and distant foreign words reached Altans ears as they floated on the wind. All around him the air seemed to distort with a colourful transparent mist. Unsure of what he was seeing, Altan ducked behind a mossy stump, fingering his switchblade. An ominous chorus of whispers suddenly swept through the clearing, causing the tall grass to bend in dancing waves. Altan shielded his eyes as a flash of light consumed Goldilock. When he opened his eyes, he was gone. A chill ran down his back as the whispers faded out of existence and the gust died, however the sphere of distorted air and glowing spores remained.
      "The hell...?"
       An uneasy knot twisted in his stomach as he warily crept forward. He was no biology or physics nerd, but he knew people weren't supposed to disappear in the middle of a circle of glowing mushrooms. As he approached the sphere began to pulsate, shrinking, and as the spores began to float back down to earth the mushrooms started to dim. Acting on an impulse, Altan leapt forward to stick his hand into the sphere, determined to investigate whatever it is he had just witness before it supposedly would go away.
       There was no weird whispering or gust of wind however a pleasantly warm feeling swept over his frozen hand, sinking into his frost bitten fingers. Before he could blink, the warmth shot through his arm, rapidly engulfing his entire body. Startled, Altan tried to jump backwards, but was met with a wall of sudden nausea that was so overpowering it brought him to his knees. His stomach gurgled and twisted, knotting and pushing lunch back up his throat. Searing pain pierced his skull and he screamed through a spurt of bile and half digested Mac n cheese. A second later and his vision was filled with a blinding flash, purging his world into a screen of white.
Even though in reality the sensation probably only lasted a few seconds, it felt like centuries came and went by by the time Altans stomach stopped somersaulting and he actually had an idea of which direction was up. Eyes screwed shut, a long groan of protest fell out of Altans mouth as he rolled onto his back, clutching at his throbbing temples. He forced his eyes to open, squinting hard as bright mid-day sun assaulted his pupils. That was his first clue something was off. The sun had not been shining so brightly a minute ago, and it certainly wasn't at its peak. Altan didn't get a lot longer to assess his situation before a hand shot out and grabbed a fist full of his shirt. Jerking him forward, Altan was rudely pulled back into reality and as his mind cleared he became aware of the two glowing yellow eyes inches away, burning into his soul.
        "You absolute foolish, rock headed, idiot!" Goldilock hissed, dragging Altan harshly to his feet, "I demand to know why you felt so entitled as to follow me!"
        Altan all but growled, shoving him away and reaching for his knife. "Nobody disrespects me like that, I'm here to finish what we started. Or are you just going to run away again like the scared little princess you are? Huh, Goldilock?"
           The stranger glared at him, knuckles white with rage. "My name is Griffin."
          "Oh, even better!" Altan exclaimed, barking a laugh, "from one lame fairytale to the next! What's your last name, huh? May as well be Rapunzel with that girly hair of yours! Here, I'll do you a favour and give you... a trim..."Altans words fizzled out as alarm bells rang in his head. He patted his pockets frantically, eyebrows furrowed. My knife! It's gone! But where...?
"Oh, is this yours? My apologies...," Griffin simmered, turning Altans knife over in his hand, "and it is Teaberry. Not Rapunzel."
       Altan screamed, charging him, "I swear when I get my hands on that knife, I'm gonna do more than cut your hair!"
        "You are absolutely pathe- OOF."
         Altan lunged forward, tackling Griffin to the ground, vision tunnelling red. As they crashed to the ground, Altans knife got knocked out of Griffins hand. Altan reached for it, but before he could grab it Griffin clutched Altans shoulders and threw him off. Altan rolled, spun, and jumped right back into the fray, fists flying.
      They wrestled on the ground for several minutes, punching, kicking, yelling, neither one willing to back down. Even as Altans breath grew ragged and his throat and muscles seared with pain, he continued to attack. Grunting as the wind was knocked out of the lungs, Altan was pinned under Griffin yet again, barely managing to swing his head out of the way of a nasty punch. Griffins fist impacted inches away from his ear, his other hand wrapped tightly around Altans neck. Bellowing, Altan lurched forward, and Griffin yelped in pain and shock as Altan smashed his skull into his nose. A spray of blood shot out and Griffin fell back, blood smearing all over his hands and clothes as he grabbed it. Shakily, victory flooding his veins, Altan stood and retrieved his knife.
"Doesn't feel so great, does it?" He rasped, limping forward, "Don't worry, I'll do a lot worse than that-"
      CRUNCH.
Altan stopped, frowning as he lifted his foot off of the remains of a small glass vial. All that laid amongst the shattered glass was what looked to be a set of tiny translucent wings, like a dragonfly but a little more elegantly shaped with little twirly bits at the ends. He scoffed as Griffin gasped, eyes blowing open wide. He quickly patted at his clothing, brow furrowing in denial. His eyes seemed to flash and he stared at Altan, an unreadable expression plastered onto his face.
"Do you have even the slightest idea of what you just did...?" Griffin panted, voice dangerously low.
Something in his voice made Altan uneasy, and he hesitantly lowered his knife. "What are you talking about?"
"Look around you," Griffin suddenly shouted, waving his arm, "just where exactly do you think you are!?"
Despite the broiling anger still burning in his gut, Altan spun, and for the first time since he stepped into that weird mushroom circle he took a second to take in his surroundings.
He was still in a clearing, and there was still that weird mushroom circle, but the trees surrounding him seemed... different. Their trunks were thicker, stronger, and their twisting branches reached much higher into the sky. The needles on the coniferous trees had a dark green nearly purple hue, and layered upon each other so thick you could barely see the wood. The leaves of the other trees, though far away, almost seemed to be a different shape, and a lot bigger than any maple or oak leaf he'd ever seen. They sprouted from twigs in odd clustered, and some trees resembled willows, with long, draping vine-like branches. Offset just within the tree line was a modest wooden cabin with vines climbing its damp walls. Off to the right of that was a a small trickling stream of water that pooled into a small divot by the cabin before snaking off into the woods. Altan kept spinning, noticing a decently sized bolder that he was sure hadn't been there before.
       The last thing he saw as he finished a full turn was a bloodied fist speeding towards his face.
      "Welcome to my world, human."