It's nothing exciting, the scene placed before you, just an open field that reaches into the distance. Stepping out, the meadow grass underneath your shoe squishes rather than crunch. If you reach down to touch a blade you can still feel the moist morning dew on it. Maybe it started to rain after you dozed off. Walking forward, the grass starts to reach up to your ankles, incredibly itchy, it starts to occur to you.

...That you might be the first person to discover this place. There were no towns in the horizon or cityscapes, in fact, the cart should have never stopped here. It had no reason to. An experience unique to you. Some may feel a little chipper being the only one, but you get the sinking feeling that this isn't your first time being here...No, not exactly here, but a feeling of deja vu washes over you. Maybe it wasn't once-in-a-lifetime like you hoped. This was a common occurence wasn't it?

Stars filled the night sky like pale dot littered among a waning crescent moon. Completely untouched by light pollution, the longer you looked up at it the more miniscule everything became. You could see the universe out there, maybe if you squint hard enough Mercury or Mars might appear. There's a joke ringing in your head saying, 'you were always more of a Pluto guy anyway'. If you were a celestial cartographer you would be in heaven, constellations were easy to map out in the pitch black and blue sky. Reaching towards the sky, your able to trace a line of stars like muscle memory. Your hand drifts without thought, tracing a Y fork that zig zags in amorphous pattern.

Serpens Cauda and Serpens Caput.

You now know its late June.

No matter how far you go out you can still see the cart in the distance.