Albion's eyes snapped open, and his nostrils were assaulted with the strange tang of metal. His nose wrinkled. Nothing like this existed in Homewood. As his eyes adjusted, his heart dropped. Huge walls of some unknown metal soared above him. The walls were near, hardly enough room to turn around. There was only forward and back. Albion glanced over his shoulder, into the shadows behind him. Everything here was dark and disorienting. And he was utterly alone. There was no point in calling for help, who would come? He would have to get himself out of this. He must rely upon himself. He took a step forward. There was no point in going backwards. The past of the past, and you could only go onward.
As he slowly walked, he reached a branching point - left or right? Or backwards. But no, that one was not an option. Only forward. He looked down the left corridor. The ground seemed to be covered in rotting leaves. They smelled of mildew and decay. He looked down the right corridor. There instead the floor was of mud. He touched a hoof to the mud, and it immediately tried to suck him down. He carefully pulled back, careful not to panic. The clay-like mud clung to his hoof. He took a deep breath, and scrawled a large X on the floor, in front of the mud corridor. A warning to any passing through here in the future. He didn't want anyone to stumble, and make a mistake. He hoped his marking would be enough.
He turned left, and followed the spiraling metal walls down the corridor with the molding leaves. They clung to his feet and legs, in particular the muddy hoof. He glanced down, and tried to shake them off. They wouldn't be dislodged. They were a burden to carry. Small, and yet still something to weigh on him. As he looked again, he noticed that no two leaves were from the same plant. He stopped walking for a moment. Surely many of these leaves were from plants not found in Homewood. Albion didn't know much about plants, but he was sure that there were not this many there. No longer did he try to dislodge them. Instead, he bent forward and scooped up a mouthful, ignoring the mildew and rot. He tossed them onto his back, into his mane. He hoped some would stick. They might be of use to others. What if some of them could be revived? He walked on.
The walls spiraled inward. The metal brushed up against his sides. It compressed his lungs. Still Albion walked forward. He felt a tug. Would it not be easier to go back? No, it would not be. There was only forward. He took another step, and found he could hardly move. Just a little panic stirred in him. Was he to die, trapped in this metal maze? He closed his eyes. He expelled all of his breath, narrowing his chest. He was able to move forward. The spiral of metal began to widen. Each step become easier. And still the spiral widened.
And then, out of the darkness, there was Grandfather Tree, towering above him. He knelt, in reverence. "I made it."
