Ian's eyes flew open, suddenly alert, as if someone had flicked a switch to turn him on. There was a noise in the distance—or was it nearby?—that could be heard, but it was indecipherable. It sounded like mumbling, yet it sounded human. Ian sighed deeply as he tried to place his bearings. That field was going to be a fun one to photograph. Maybe he ought to stay in the vicinity all day so he could get morning shots as well as sunset shots. As long as he avoided the rioting town, he'd be fine. With these thoughts in his head, he moved to get up but stopped because he couldn't. A look of surprise and horror crossed his face as he turned his head slightly and looked around him. This, this wasn't the field of poppy flowers he had just been in. He glanced down at the hunk of ice resting in the palm of his hand, shaking it off as soon as what it was registered with him. A quick glance to either side told him that this was an icy land, desolate of all but a few randomly set boulders around.