The fire had gone out in the night, and was still smoking lazily from charred wood. Past habits compelled me to use the small camp shovel to suffocate the embers. Today’s pace was slower. Our tender feet were throbbing with new blisters from yesterday, and our calves were sore; we moved on, however, driven by our innate need to survive. As we passed into a large clearing, I saw that its serene beauty stood in stark contrast to the woods on the other side, where the path continued. Merely looking at the other side brought an unnamable sensation of dread that sat heavy in the pit of my stomach. A weathered, hand-drawn sign had been nailed to a lonely tree: ‘Don’t leave the path’ Its simplicity was terrifying, and my mind took the inevitable journey to wonder what would happen if we did. What, I wondered, was off the path? The tree line was thick and continued far into either direction, and there was no telling how far was safe to go around.
