The smell of pines replace the scent of old perfume. Spruce trees stretch as far as her eyes could see. Bonki picks up a spruce cone laying on the deep, grooved path in front of her, but it is already gone. Taken by someone, something; shapes moving faster than lightning that quickly disappear into the forest. "You are not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to be here," says a little blue man, suddenly appearing at her side.