Gisel's perspective
Dappled sunlight through the trees shatters across the path ahead of me, which is almost completely covered by leaves. I walk slowly, the cold wind catching my skirts and lifting them slightly from my legs. My tattered brown boots crunch the fallen leaves under my feet. I smile. This is so much nicer than sitting at home and watching the farm fail.
I sit down under an ancient oak to rest. But then I immediately stop and sit up. This part of the woods is thick and lush, with the heavy scent of summertime in the breeze. The cold wind that surrounded me ten feet ago is gone, and has been replaced with a humid warmth.
My eyes travel to a overgrown blackberry bush that has seemingly shown up out of nowhere. The fruit is luscious and bright, berries full to bursting with juice. It is too good to be true.
I am walking over to the bush when I hear the blood-chilling scream.
I stumble blindly through the low hanging branches toward the direction of the scream. Running toward the voice that sounded so much like my little sister's. I run and trip over a fallen branch. My face smacks into the dirt.
Looking up from the leaves and loamy ground, I see that I have run into a clearing. Out of the corner of my eye, a bright smear of color catches my eye. I raise my head out of the dirt and slowly rise to my feet. I turn around.
A house of gingerbread, covered in candy of all kinds. Jeweled lollipops and pastries and cakes and apples and cookies and sugar windows and...my eyes don't know where to look first. And then… two chicken feet sprouting out of the foundation of the house.