You wake up in some strange dugout, where instead of the floor there are hummocks of earth and grass, and instead of walls there are earthen walls, with sometimes tree roots protruding. There is not as much light here as we would like. At the end of the dugout(?) you see some strange, hunched creature standing over an old vat and, apparently, kneading something. Perhaps it is preparing some kind of decoction. On the calves of this strange creature you can see sprouted fly agarics or small birch twigs. Several fir cones hang from his hair...It is very difficult for you to remember what happened yesterday or a few days ago: cold evening in the autumn forest, you got lost and fell out of fatigue on a pile of withered maple leaves. And now, you somehow ended up here. Creepy.