Isabella Marie Swan ✝ "Juliet"

They are standing on top of a small hill, between two large boulders of an unfamiliar type of rock with colourful stripes. All around them is an expanse of equally colourful grass - green and red and blue and purple and orange and pink and white and yellow and so on and so forth, clumped in like-coloured tufts. It smells a little peculiar, to a human: a mix of natural and industrial. Insects with sparkling white shells buzz busily among the grasses. Behind them, the haphazard grass gives way to an obviously cultivated field of similar grasslike plants, arranged in like-coloured stripes; to either side, grass merges into scrubby bushes which merge into a forestlike arrangement of tall spindly trees with no visible leaves but plenty of branches; up ahead, there is a path through the grass, which eventually widens into a dirt road.

Val heads that way.