The world was a muffled, green blur.
Ruì Xuě's lungs burned as he gasped for air, his small chest heaving against the damp earth. The last thing he remembered was the terrifying sensation of the ice slide, his father's masterpiece, shattering beneath him like sugar glass. He had felt the stomach-turning lurch of a free-fall, the flapping of his own small arms, and then… a collision with a dense canopy that felt more like hitting a brick wall.
He had tumbled through layers of emerald leaves and thick, rope-like vines that whipped his face, until finally, the ground had rushed up to claim him.
"Papa?" Ruì Xuě whispered.
He groaned, pushing himself up. His head throbbed with a rhythmic, dull ache. He checked his limbs, everything moved, though his ribs felt like they'd been squeezed by a giant. But as he looked down, his heart sank.
