The first thing John noticed when he woke up was the quiet.
Not the uneasy silence of predators waiting to strike. Not the oppressive stillness that followed a battle where death lingered in the air.
This quiet was… normal.
The forest breathed again.
Leaves rustled softly as wind passed through the canopy. Somewhere far away, something small scurried through undergrowth. Birds—actual birds—called out in cautious, tentative notes, as if testing whether it was safe to exist again.
John lay still, eyes closed, letting the sounds wash over him.
His body felt heavy.
Not injured-heavy. Not broken.
Just… large.
He shifted slightly and felt the ground press back against him more firmly than he remembered. Stone that would've once been hard and unyielding now felt almost soft beneath his weight.
"…Right," he murmured. "That happened."
When he finally opened his eyes, the world looked different.
Not distorted. Sharper.
