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In the modern day folktales were kept safe in books, all sorts that told of bravery and kindness, of people that had hardship but got their happy endings. When Homura was in the hospital, when she had the strength, she would redo her messy braids and read a book of folktales. For the most part the protagonists came upon good fortunes because of their kindness and enduring the hardships on their journeys.
When Homura could go back to school, feeling like she was out of place and continuously shunned, Homura could not extend her kindness. But she received some kindness by way of a fellow student named Madoka.
If Homura had more courage within her like those in folktales it would have been her chance to reach out and know more about Madoka. But her courage had been emptied with a disjointed feeling in her stomach and unaccustomed heat in her cheeks so she was silent.
It was something that was heavy on Homura’s mind as she walked home one afternoon, going through a park as opposed to her usual route. When she finally looked up she stumbled back.
The sky had been swallowed up by the earth, like she had wandered underground. There was moss at her feet and it stretched onward into a path. Homura looked behind her and saw that there was no way out so she had no choice but to walk upon the mossy path.
There were faint circles of light floating through the air when Homura came across a glen. The soft air felt dream-like and warm on her skin. Homura looked up once again and saw a hole in the dirt. The moon above was round and reddish and suddenly Homura thought of deer fleeing through a forest.
But when she blinked the hole and the moon were gone and she could not remember what she was thinking about.
She continued to walk and the glen opened to a clearing, where gnarled old trees grew into a small forest and a revel was taking place.
Homura could see people dancing, their faces belonging to strangers she fleeting remembered. Their teeth were just a little too long and in a flash of thought that came and went Homura thought that flesh could easily be torn apart with those teeth.
The soft air seemed to enter Homura’s lungs with more intensity and the dream-like feeling carried through her mind. Her limbs felt strangely heavy.
She entered the center of the revel and her eyes widened.
There was a woman dressed in finery, her dress as green as the forest leaves and her chestnut dark hair was free and windswept. Her face was nearly inhuman, she was beautiful and she was wild. Though there was beauty in her wildness it was drenched in danger to Homura, someone with mortal blood running through her veins.
In a heartbeat Homura forgot this and walked up to the woman. The woman stepped aside and Madoka was behind her. Madoka lifted up her hand; for a moment her face twisted into something fiendish. The people around them stopped dancing and watched with wide smiles that nearly went to their ears.
Homura reached to take Madoka’s hand – but she was pulled back and she barely caught sight of an arrow flying through the air to lodge itself in the woman’s chest and everyone around her started screaming, ear-piercing and inhuman.
The Madoka Homura nearly danced with and the humans around her burst into monstrous creatures, made up of roots and teeth that could break through bones. The woman’s face broke into cracks, her sharp mouth opened in a never-ending scream. The dress became her skin, her bony arms lifted up and her hands tried to pull the arrow from her chest. The liquid that fell from the wound was like a mixture of venous blood and mire.
Homura heard a familiar voice command, “Run!” and she ran toward the glen. The glen’s moss was dead and the lights were gone and the glen stretched onward and onward as the crafted dream fell to pieces.
The moon above cast a red glow upon the glen, and a sharp pain lodged itself nearby Homura’s heart as she kept running. She heard a death rattle of a scream behind her and she had a split-second terror that her savior had been killed.
By some mercy the world around her crumbled into reality and Homura could feel the sun on her skin and the fresh air chase away anything else that clouded her mind.
Homura looked up to see Madoka, in a dress with a pink and white frilled bodice, white puffy sleeves, the pink fabric over the white skirt adorned with ribbons and the fabric cut like petals. Her gloved hands gripped a bow and there was nothing inhuman about her.
Madoka helped Homura up and later Madoka would tell Homura about Witches and how she got trapped in a barrier.
In the moment Homura could be immersed in joy that Madoka saved her.