He cringed at the dust and grime clinging to his coat-sleeves, thoroughly appalled by the very idea that it should have taken up residence there. It had no right. With a long-suffered sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and waved his hand in a quick gesture that banished the dust and renewed the pristinely of his wardrobe. He still wanted a bath, though.
He glanced around irritably and frowned. This was not the folding valley. This was not Kingsburry or Portown or Upper Folding. Neither was this Wales or anywhere else familiar. It did more resemble the world of his birth, but it was far too red.
He looked up at the sky. The buildings were very tall and restricted his field of view too much to catch sight of what was causing the strange coloration. Pollution or a dying star, he guessed. Neither thought was particularly comforting.
The whole place looked to have been completely deserted for some time, which was further disconcerting. But most troubling was the fact that as he looked this way and that, he couldn’t find the door back home.
He would need to have words with Calcifer about that door.