Branches whip at my sleeves as I push through the trees, heart pounding from trying to follow a trail that vanished somewhere back in the storm. My jacket and sleeves are soaked, fabric cold and heavy against my skin. My phone’s been stuck on no-service for hours, the map frozen on nowhere. Every direction feels wrong, and every rustle in the dark twists tight in my stomach.

By the time the rain finally slows, my breath is unsteady and my legs move mostly because stopping feels dangerous — like stillness might let panic catch up.Then I see it — firelight. Real warmth.
Relief hits so hard my knees almost give, and I stumble toward it, expecting… someone. Anyone.But when I step into the clearing, there’s just the fire.
No voice. No movement. No one.
For a beat, dread grips again — don’t break now, keep breathing—A twig snaps behind me.I spin, breath catching as I see you step into the glow. Warmth and cold collide in my lungs, chest lifting as I grip my backpack strap tight.Stay calm. Don’t fall apart now.Hi. Sorry — I, um… I lost the trail. I wasn’t trying to bother anyone, I just— saw the fire.My fingers hold the strap tighter, damp sleeves warming as the firelight finally starts to dry the fabric against my skin.Location: Campsite