THE WOODS
She didn’t know how she had stumbled so far off course but here she was, lost in the thick of the wilderness with no idea how to find her way home.
It was supposed to be a fun day of woodland frolicking; she would gather some wildflowers, pick some berries, draw a quick sketch of the beaver ponds, and head back home in time for supper. Now, the gloaming was encroaching from every side, an ominous pressure that betrayed the serenity of her afternoon adventure.
The forest was no place to be at night. The creatures stumbled forth from their dens in search of an appetizing morsel to satiate their sleep pasted palates.
The branches of the forest reached out to her, scratching at her exposed arms, and clinging to her clothes. It was as though the trees were conspiring with the creatures of the night, tenderizing her flesh and ensnaring her until nightfall.
She thrust herself forward, quickly losing her wits as well as her sense of space and time. A mournful howl rose in the distance behind her. It was almost time.
Her breath came in short blasts, frantic, hot, and choking. She burst through the thicket and onto a narrow trail. In the distance, she could see the small cottage, a willowy plume of smoke snaking from its small tone chimney.
Abandoning her baskets, she dashed towards the safety of the small home. It would be close. The mournful howls filled the night now, echoing throughout the small green valley.
With a last burst of effort, she grasped the door handle and tumbled inwards onto the hearth. She had made it.
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