Various things scuttle around, and a couple of times there are close calls with tree climbing critters, but all the action seems like it stays under the canopy for the most part.

An ominous buzzing resolves into a small flock of giant flies which are gradually gaining on her.

Ahead, there is some variation - a narrow corridor, no bigger than a footpath, clearly cutting through the vegetation.

Will the giant flies be deterred if she whacks them with a stick, with enough strength behind it to break a pine door to splinters?

The lead giant fly practically explodes into a cloud of unpleasant ichor! This initially just increases the determination of the rest, but not in any way that is capable of standing up to that kind of blow, and they rather get in each other's way and each one pops in a single hit.

Dodge the mess, spin out of the way, throw that one into the other, grab a new stick- if this gets in her hair she’ll be so annoyed, do they not have a survival instinct-

Well. She’ll poke at the less-destroyed corpses to see if anything there looks useful, but she’s not particularly hopeful.

They absolutely do not have a survival instinct, they have a mobbing instinct instead.

The remains mostly look acidic, poisonous, and generally unpleasant. She could wield a giant fly leg if she really wanted to, but there is no shortage of branches and saplings that would do better.

…Are they acidic enough to do unpleasant things to a stick she pokes it with?

It's not bubbling and melting but the the end gets a bit weakened and frayed, and the undergrowth isn't looking too happy about it either.

Worthwhile taking a sample, then! She has ages glass bottles empty for such situations.

And then Northward once again.

The deep jungle starts to thin out a little as she makes progress. Nothing else comes to personally challenge her, although if she gets close to any giant insects, poison-dripping vines etc they will have a go.

Then she encounters a visible path, abruptly carved out of the dense vegetation. It is growing thick, pleasant grass and the sides show signs of being maintained - overhanging branches have been hacked back with blades. It's barely wide enough for an ox cart, but it's distinctly there.

She’ll simply avoid anything that isn’t looking for a fight, although if anything is demonstrated to be especially poisonous (animals dead on contact, etc) she’ll collect some.

And- that’s promising! She’ll follow it, and look for signs of civilization other than the cut-back greenery. Speaking off that, are the branches cut cleanly, or roughly sawed?

Not much is dead here; the animals she sees are grown through with vines, in a kind of unnerving puppeted fashion.

The cut back growth mostly looks like it was hacked off with a machete, or a similar blade on a stick for the tall bits.

Following the path... feeds an energy into her. The energy is trying to help - bolstering stamina, making it easier to keep going, removing fatigue, even doing some minor healing - but it's definitely quite insistent she take it.

…She can probably argue her way out of a debt, since she hasn’t accepted any contract. She’ll keep walking. She doesn’t need the stamina, but it won’t hurt.

There are a group of people a little way down the path. If she's exceptionally good at spotting people first, she might spot them first. There are half a dozen of them, moving very quietly for unaugmented humans, but carrying a fair amount of stuff. They are not quite all normal humans - for instance, the one in front has a striking line of green scales starting from a feathered patch near her ear, and a few on her forehead.

She is, if anything, worse at spotting people than average. They’ll almost certainly see her first.

And when they do, they’ll see a women walking on the path, holding herself with absolute confidence. Her hair is dark green, and braided through with gold. Her clothes are an odd combination of fine furs and colorful silks, but are very well crafted. She looks distracted.

A lady in a quite practical green half-cloak over brown leathers steps out of the trees ahead of her, while two gentlemen in full brown with spears appear behind her, having walked round the side in the jungle to surround her.

"It's never a good idea to be distracted on the Trods of Broceliande," says the lady, in a mostly friendly tone, although with an edge of suspicion. "So, what brings you to my stomping grounds?"

She stills when the lady steps out, and then nods her head in acknowledgement.

”I apologize for any intrusion, madam, but I’m afraid that I do not know the answer to you question myself! Last I recall, I was in my homeland, and then I found myself here, with no continuity, and no indication from my own state or that of my belongings that any time had passed.”

Her eyes flicker to the men, but she doesn’t give them any other acknowledgement.

"Oh dear, have you just stepped out of a regio? No wonder you're disoriented!

Okay everyone, it looks like we've got ourselves an escort mission back to Greenstead."

Three other people emerge from the jungle behind her, seemingly relieved to not have to stay off the path any longer; they have cloth scarves covering their faces, which they take off to breathe the clean air on the path. The youngest has metallic patterns on his face.

“A… regio?” She says the word carefully. “Are you familiar with this phenomena, then?”

She’s clearly paying some attention to the people around her, but it’s not to their movements or location, except insofar as they pay attention to that. Her eyes instead linger on their clothes, and formation, and how they interact with each other. 

"Yeah, you'll mostly get Spring ones here, I think, but goodness knows what's hiding out there in the deep Vallorn. Did you go in on purpose, then?"

These people are a close knit group, almost like a family, although none of them are blood relations. They're very used to each other's company and mostly very unused to anyone else's, or at least rather suspicious and can't work out exactly what to make of her. The woman talking is not actually in charge, that's the older lady with the burn scar on her cheek, who everyone's kind of watching for cues. Also, they all have face tattoos, and some also have hand tattoos - the front lady's is a quite subtle little line of thorny branch on her forehead, half-hidden by her hair, but several have more obvious ones on their cheeks and chins; the thorned branch design is a common theme, but there are a variety of symbols.

Their clothes are practical and rugged, in greens and browns; they probably don't change them much, a lot of soft leather is involved, some hardened leather pieces on the two that came round behind her. They each have a reasonably sized backpack, they've probably got several days travelling supplies between them at least. And belts with many pouches, and some kind of weapon, either a spear or a machete like blade, one of them has a hunting bow... and on second glance, they are festooned with partly hidden knives - belt knives, boot knives, thigh holster knives, knives up their sleeves...

“I’m not familiar with the term, we might call it another name where I come from? I did not send myself into the - Vallorn, you said? - on purpose.”

"Oh, I meant the regio. I'm guessing you've been stuck there for a very long time if you don't know what the Vallorn is, though! Do you recognise the name Terunael?"

The kid with the metal face patterns is listening intently. Everyone else seems to have relaxed slightly, although they're clearly put out by having to reverse their course.

“I do not. It sounds vaguely Eastern to my ear?”

"...regios don't normally move you in space as well as time. Maybe they really did start in the Sarangrave instead of here.

The historians are going to be so excited!" 

She catches a look from the old lady who is clearly in charge.

"Oh no, where are my manners? I don't need them much out here. I'm Caryn Splitroot, welcome to the Splitroot Striding. Are you happy to follow us back to Greenstead? It's got useful things like walls and beds and other people."

“Wait, time? Did I - what - what in Oblivion happened?”

Her work, her life, her resources, her family, her people, gone-

No. Breath. Refocus. She would find that which was left, and mourn that which was lost. 

"Uh, sorry, yeah. That's... Yeah.

Look, we haven't got a Guide but there'll be more than one in Greenstead, they'll help you find your place in the Dance again.

If we make good time we might get there tonight."