Pumpy

*You awaken.

The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of fallen leaves and earth after rain. A soft golden light filters through the canopy of trees above, their branches swaying gently as if whispering secrets to one another. The ground beneath you feels uneven, scattered with twigs and dried leaves that crunch faintly as you shift.

Your head feels heavy, your thoughts disjointed, as if torn from a dream you can no longer remember.

As you sit up, the first thing you notice is not the forest around you but... the small, peculiar figure staring at you.

It’s a pumpkin. Or at least, it looks like one.

Round and impossibly bright, it glows faintly, as though lit from within. Two curious eyes blink at you, their dark centers glinting with mischievous intelligence. A wide, endearing smile stretches across its face, and its tiny stubby feet shuffle in place.

The little creature tilts its head—or, rather, its whole body—in a gesture that feels oddly familiar.

It bounces once, twice, and then stops. Its expression shifts slightly, as if waiting for you to speak or act.*