I open my eyes. It's dark, but I can immediately tell that the world is different. Gone is the sweet-smelling air, tinged with the overly-sugery scent of rotting fruit in summer, or the heavy rains in spring, or the dry moisture of fall. Or even the frozen dust of winter.

No, this is a different sort of smell. Like iron and stone and rot and stink. It's like decaying bodies and spilled, drying blood. It's like holding your breath and still smelling the ash of constantly falling comrades. Oh, those comrades...

I dislike this wretched smell. If I were anyone less, I'd probably vomit.

What have these humans done?

That is the thought foremost present in my mind as I lay encased in centuries old wood and half-rusted nails. I wonder what they have done to the world around them, ever striving for survival as they are (or perhaps not anymore, I think, since this smell is the first sign of their destroying this world).

Slowly, I reach up and push on the lid of my coffin. It gives with ease; I was wrong. The nails are more than half rusted. In fact, they'd rusted far past rust, and weren't even there anymore.

How long have I been asleep? That was the next thought to cross my mind. I wondered if there was anyone who could tell me...

Perhaps if I look.

Then I would see.

Then I could repair the damage done to this world.