All four of the humongous wolves were packing up and did not notice your quarrel with the giant insect. You relax and thrust your trust knife back into its scabbard.
"Damn," you say to yourself, wiping the sweat from your brow, "too bad I'm too small for anyone to have seen that." You watch the wolves packing up for a few moments, glad that the man-eating behemoths are leaving. "Then again, maybe it's a good thing."
It's not until the father is staring the car up in the distance, the mother is rolling up the picnic cloth, the daughter is holding the basket, and the son is holding a few containers reluctantly that you realize something. Maybe you didn't want to think about it, but once the wolves turn their backs to you and head to their car the problem hits you like a sledge to the temple.
"H-hey! Wait!" you scream in futility, "Where the hell am I?!"
You take a step and reach out in their direction when you catch yourself, realizing that it's a futile endeavor. Moments later, the sound of doors slamming shut reached your ears and the car rumbled away in the distance, hidden behind the forest of grass
"Crap. Well, this sucks," you tell yourself. It had just sunk in that you were in the middle of a grassy—scratch that—you are in a HUGE grassy field, the equivalent of the middle of nowhere at your size, without direction and probably a slim chance of survival, given the creatures lurking in the grass.
"This is getting serious," you say to yourself, concerned. "I'm gonna be screwed if I don't do something...or find something. ...find...someone." Your head instinctively swivels as if trying to discern one direction as better from the others. It was all just a wall of green.
"Maybe I should follow that road," you offered to yourself. There was the sound of a car, you figured that there would be a road of some kind. Going in the direction of the giant wolves you had just hoped to avoid seemed a little silly, but then again, there were the small...ugh, fried humans in the bowl, which lead you to believe that human civilization must have existed somewhere in this world. With any luck, you could run into them.
Once again, you push your way through denser sections of grass that lie ahead of you in the direction that the wolves left, impeding your progress. An hour passed and you feel as if you had barely taken a bite out of the distance; the flattened grass that had been under the picnic really slowed you down. You guess that you may have slogged through about a mile, which would be, what, to those wolves five feet? Ah, you didn't stop to ask them their height to make an accurate estimate.
You are now caught in some real thick sh--stuff. Tall stalks growing high overhead as the thinner blades create a dense carpet, or rather ticket. You try with some difficulty to stay above the growth by stepping on the blades as they bent, but they had too much tensility and at one point your foot fell through and you came crashing down, swearing out loud, and forcefully pushed your way through in your anger.
Finding a small parting in the sea of green, you sat down, momentarily winded by the difficulty in progress.
"Man," your hand traced the handle of your knife, "I wish you were a machete. Or a bottle of water." You added the last part after a thought, when you realized you were thirsty. You hoped that a river would lie in your path before you died of dehydration. "...but then I have to watch out for monster-fish," you added vocally.
You cracked your knuckles and prepared to sludge through some more grass, when you heard a rustling in the distance.
"Uh oh," you breath.
You couldn't tell if it was moving in your direction and it didn't sound too loud, but the again, you couldn't hear a bug moving through the grass when you were big; might as well assume! You drew your knife and held it at ready in the direction of the rustling. Minutes passed and the sound did not cease. It had move slightly to your left and a little louder.
it started to make you nervous, especially when it stopped. Just stopped. Thirty seconds passed and all was still. You couldn't take it. It was making you paranoid and muttering under your breath wasn't helping. You had to scream:
"Come on out, Bugsy! I'll cut off all six of your legs!"
Then came--
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