Your driving home at night, the air hazy as rain drops pepper the windshield and a dark, forest area flanks your path. For the most part, the drive has been uneventful, the usual playlist blaring loudly while you fiddle with your headlights. However, a shadowy figure suddenly leaps from the left side of the road, prompting you to slam down on the brakes. But Oh! The humanity! An unexpected resistance causes you to swerve on the slick pavement, sending the car into a ditch. The airbags deploy as you collide with a small tree, burning your arms. After a few moments to collect yourself, you push the airbag away to investigate the cause of the crash.
Looking down at your pedals, you see it: an errant fast food cup had rolled under the brake pedal in your messy car, stifling attempts to brake. The crash has caused some of your piled up refuse to shift around, wrappers and soda cans flood the backseat. With a sigh, you try to start the car, but find it unresponsive. Pulling out a flashlight from the glove compartment, a few good whacks turn it on. Turning around with the beam splitting the darkness, nothing but trees and rain greet you. Clutching your head for a moment, you check your phone to find a complete lack of signal.
Out of determination, your feet start the climb up the side of the ditch, knowing the main road would lead you to some form of civilization... eventually. A chill goes down your spine, however, as you notice the ground: it's clean. Perfectly clean, like something out of a designer lawn maintenance catalog (aside from some errant tire tracks, of course). No branches, no leaves, just lush, green grass. Not a single piece of gravel is in the grass, and there aren't any weeds. Even the lines on the asphalt are perfect, some fixed with a paint brush.
A canine howl splits the air, halting your analysis. Turning, you see a dark shape flitting through the trees, glowing eyes flickering. The crinkling of trashbags resounds through the brush. The movements are animalistic, yet refined, and you can swear there is some form of... dress, adorning it. It's far away, but distinctive. They're coming.
You turn to run down the road when you note the singular source. No, not they, She. And she's gaining on you.