Bonesplinter Ravine no man is an island entire of itself

He knew he was coming down from the heavens, but he hadn't thought it would be literal.

Hrishikesh roused with a groan, sore and stiff, a throbbing in his temple. He was covered in wet leaves, his agouti coat streaked with mud. Various abrasions littered his body, and a trickle of blood still oozed from a drying wound on his head. He lay sprawled, looking for all the world a dead man.

What a way for this world to greet him!

The god lifted himself to his paws, taking a ginger step forward. It was as if he was intoxicated. The horizon was unsteady; the earth shifted beneath him. One step, then two, three—

What hell had he been sent to?!

There were bones everywhere, some browned with age, others unsettlingly fresh. It was dark despite it being midday, and he could swear he heard the whispers of ghosts. No doubt they lurked here; this was a place of death. 

Hrishikesh searched for an exit, a pathway out. It couldn't come soon enough.