The crisp, rustling crunch of autumn leaves beneath your bare feet echoed through the silence of the extraterrestrial terrain.

The dry, crumbling dirt under your feet was a warm, rich orange hue, speckled with bits of crushed leaves and dried grass.

Your steps were brisk and steady, your body moving with the familiar rhythm of a daily task.

In your hands, you held a woven basket, its aged handle smooth against your palms.

The wool scarf around your neck and wrapped around your head provided a comforting warmth, the worn fabric snug against your skin.

Your body was clad in a simple brown dress, its fabric tattered and ragged at the hem, yet still serviceable.

As you reached the edge of the well, you set down the basket, its heavy load clinking gently.

You braced yourself on the rim, the cold, damp stone a contrast to the biting autumn air.

But as you bent down to lower the bucket, a strange sound caught your attention, pulling you out of your routine.

A deep, whooshing sound echoed through the still air, almost like something falling... only significantly larger.

You lifted your head, turning towards the source of the sound.

And there, about 40 miles away, you saw it - a large object plummeting from the sky, leaving a trail of dust and debris in its wake.