Instead she experiences appearing in a grassy field! It's unmown, full of wildflowers and occasional shrubs, and gives way to trees and denser shrubbery in most directions.

She did not think that cryptid was pretty enough for teleportation, wow. Okay. Time to start walking towards civilization. Since she doesn't know which way that is, she goes with whichever way the ground slopes even slightly downward, in hopes of finding a river or at least not going in circles.

A creature approaches her. "Shinx!" it says.

Man, this is apparently her day for running into cryptids. "Hello. Are you going to be shockingly powerful too?"

Her danger sense goes off.

She doesn't have the physical ability to dodge the resulting electric shock, though, so it's not very helpful.

Then she will spend a few seconds on the ground, contemplating the unpleasant sensation and the horrendous irony of what she just said, before trying to get up and fly away. "Owwww, why?"

"Shinx!" says the Shinx, and it shocks her again.

This thing is awful. She keeps trying to run and/or fly away.

It doesn't chase her. She makes a getaway.

There's another one over there in a tree and it doesn't like her either though.

Something very weird and wrong is going on. If she can get away from the one in the tree too, she tries getting altitude.

It tries to zap her but it misses.

Hey, there's a person walking his... weird... beaverchipmunk monster.

Okay, that's arguably even weirder than the rest of this, but at least he's more likely to talk to her. She flies toward him. "Hello! Do you speak English? I had a magical accident, I'm very lost."

He says something back to her which sounds like it includes the word "hello" but also seems to direct the beaverchipmunk monster to spring at her in a flying leap it should not reasonably be able to make.

She sees it coming a few seconds in advance and jukes left, yelling "Why did you do that!?" She tries again. "English? Parlez-vous Français? Uh, Espanol?"

He says something else, laughing, seeming to think this is a good time. The beaverchipmunk monster keeps attacking. It's perfectly visible to danger sense, but it's startlingly strong and quick, looking more like a movie monster than an animal when in motion.

Her wings aren't optimized for manuverability, and it's been years since she did swarm patrol. If it's as good at biting as it is at leaping, it can probably do her a serious injury.

Yup.

Chomp.

It drags her to the ground - it weighs more than forty pounds - and pins her.

The human, who looks delighted with the proceedings, grins and throws something at her head, and then she's in a sort of - sedated, bodiless state where the passage of time does not seem terribly important.

Timeless oblivion has been the best thing to happen to her since she got her coffee, which she lost in the shuffle and didn't even get to finish. What thoughts she manages to have drift around the theme of how she totally should have starscaped a shield or a sword or something, no matter how cute that creature was.

When next time matters again, she's on the floor in a circle of curious teenagers.

At least there are no more aggressive cryptids-or-something. She stands up, keeping her hands in an "I'm not hostile" gesture, and starscapes her dress uncrumpled. "Does anyone speak English?" Also now she's holding out a little globe, with the continents outlined as best she remembers them. "Where am I?"

There are actually a couple cryptids-or-something present - a this and a this - but they're standing behind teenagers and not attacking her.

The teenagers are talking about her without addressing her, though one is looking at her and her globe with concern rather than participating in the conversation.

Maybe the concerned one is willing to try communicating across the langauge barrier. She makes eye contact, points at herself, then at the globe's northeastern US. Then she holds out the globe for the teenager to point at.

Concerned teenager doesn't point at the globe, but does interrupt the conversation. She doesn't seem to get a very receptive reception.

She pulls out her phone, discovers she has no signal to run a translate app. Maybe pictures will work? Next time any of them looks at her, she makes a big piece of paper with a little comic-strip depiction of events. Picture of America, labeled with the American flag and with a little Margaret on it. Picture of the mirror-snake girl attacking her. Picture of Margaret in a field, looking surprised and with a little question mark over her head.

The conversation becomes slightly more animated and involves gesturing at Margaret and her phone more. Concerned teenager leaves.