"And where exactly is 'here'?" Martha walked toward the door, still shaken.
"Well, I'm not quite sure," he replied, sticking his head out the door, "but I'm sure we'll find out. You good?" He looked back in at her, and she nodded. "Let's head out, then!" He grinned and strode out, then turned straight back around and stepped back inside. "Forgot to mention: it's raining."
Wearing their newly donned ponchos, the two stepped out into the downpour. They had landed at the edge of a wood, the rain quieted by the think coating of pine needles strewn about the ground. A small town stood in front of them.
"Quaint," Martha noted, looking around at the tile-roofed houses. "Now do you know where we are?"
He shook his head. "Haven't narrowed it down yet. Could be one of fourteen-" he sniffed the air- "no, thirteen places. If we were to go into town, however, I'd be surer." He looked at Martha, who nodded and smiled. Together, they linked arms and strolled into the village.