*You should know what this is
*That's right, a short story. 
*Why can't I write happy endings.

~

I stumbled, tripping over roots and rocks, branches overhead scratching and bruising my arms. Trying to remember how to breathe, I sat down on a large boulder and examined the cuts on my arms. How did I get here? I don't know. I remember going on a camping trip with my friends, saying "I'll be back in 10 minutes with the firewood!" And getting lost.

I should've listened to my friend's advice and went with someone. I have a terrible sense of direction. I found a large boulder, walked over to it, and sat down, examining the wounds on my body. I heaved a sigh. It must've been days, weeks, maybe, but I didn't know, I lost track of time. The sky was painted with multiple colours, which could've mean it was getting dark, or lighter. I didn't know. I didn't pay attention. 
I scrambled off the rock, frantically brushing anything off my jeans that I might've missed, and kept on walking. I found a puddle, and glanced at my reflection.

I looked horrible. My face was filled with so many cuts the dull blue eyes were barely noticeable. My dirty-blonde hair became.. well, dirty. Twigs stuck out. Leaves and dirt were brushed across the strands. My favourite blue top was missing a chunk of the sleeve. My face, alongside being covered with scars, had also been plastered with dirt and bits of leaves. 

I sighed, but continued walking. I must be getting closer to where my friends were, right? 
Then I heard it. 
A rustle beyond the trees.

I should've been scared. I should've stayed where I was, petrified. But my hopes have gotten ahead of me. I thought someone had come to rescue me. I thought I was finally  going to get out of these dark woods. I rushed straight over to the direction of the noise.

It was my worst mistake. I had come across a clearing, and I had thought that my friends would be there. I smiled. Then I looked around, and the smile quickly dipped into a frown. 
I had been surrounded by wolves. And they did not seem friendly.

The last I remembered seeing was canine teeth bearing down at my face, and the wail of a siren overhead. 

Lost things are always found. But if they are in good condition is another story. 

Published by Crystal Lunar