She is in a forest.

It's an immensely creepy forest, for no especially visible reason. The trees, losing their leaves in some sort of autumn, feel pale and sickly and deathly, withering, as if something has slathered the area in noxious poison recently. Their trunks are grey, almost white, and the leaves a bright vibrant red, for all that the shapes are ordinary oak, maple, birch. There's no wind. The scent - or maybe the feeling - of blood and rot is lingering heavily in the air, strongest from ahead of her, a little like feeling the sun's warmth on some patch of skin she isn't familiar with.

Oh, and is that a giant spider weaving an equally giant web a few trees over? It is! How fun.