The floor is made of wood, the bed is made of wood, and the walls are made of wood. All of this wood is fudge, while the pillows are marshmallows and the sheets cotton candy. Outside the open window, from which there wafts a savor of mint, a great many tree leaves rustle in the breeze. As far as the room's temperature, it is neither too warm nor too hot; it is a perfect blanket of coziness. As far as the room's decor, the only thing that stands out is the painting that hangs over the bed, looking like a slab of marble cake.
As much as I enjoy this room, with its low light and soothing atmosphere, I want to find out what lies beyond.
The forest is neither dark nor light; it's about as bright as you'd expect it to be in the early afternoon. The trees are gigantic things with twisted, gnarled trunks that reach high to join a sheet of green leaves through which snatches of sunlight can be seen. The ground beneath me is made of a loose, dark soil that resembles crumbled chocolate cake.
I look around for a path, but there isn't one, just a lot of soil that is so loose I feel like I'll sink through it. Nor is it easy to set out on a path of my own, since there is nowhere a clearance greater than a few feet. A lot of weaving and winding round trees will be necessary, and I can only imagine what lies beyond the thick wall of trunks that meets me on every side. Probably more trees, although it's difficult to judge.
(I imagined myself as already having entered the forest; hence the absence of the trail.)
I come across a stream in the middle of the forest. The stream must be six feet wide, and rather than water, it flows with something thick and silver like a cross between syrup and mercury. I look down at the oozing stuff, and it's like gazing in a melting mirror.
As it's a stream, I have little choice but to try and cross it, but before I wade through, I head downstream in search of a bridge. I find no bridge, but I do find a boat with some paddles. I step in and begin to row, but the boat will not budge. It's only when I try rowing backwards that it scuds forward.
When I reach the shore, I find a sparkling, long-necked vessel resting at my feet. It's made of crystal, stoppered with a diamond-like plug, and it resembles a flower vase. Nothing is in it except air.
I decide to take it with me. Why not?
I scoop up some of the silver fluid with a fallen leaf and pour it into the vessel. I don't fill it, as that would take too long, but I do get a sample of the stuff.
The key is made of white and brown chocolate, and turning it over with my shoe, I see it has a flattened side like boxed candy. The first thing I think of is a treasure chest full of sweets, but on further thought, I think it's meant to unlock the mouth.
I'm not a fool. I tear the ground up running from that bear, and I have just enough presence of mind to wish I had picked up the chocolate key. If I had, I'd have some candy to distract it with.
I have no reason to think there's anything worthwhile behind the wall, and so I turn back to explore some areas that are more favorable to my purpose.