The Light in the Woods
My eyes snap open. It’s dark. The air is too cold, too fresh. I’m standing, I don’t know where.
Something crunches underfoot. A million tiny points prickle the soles of my feet. The smell of damp earth and redwood trees. I hear crickets chirping in the distance, feel the cold night air against my face.
A silvery edge of moonlight gilds the world around me. I’m standing in a tiny hollow, hemmed in on all sides by enormous redwoods. There’s enough room to turn around, to sit, but not much else. I’m wearing what I wore to bed: a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie, jeans, thick socks. The mace canister is still in my front pocket.
I look around me. There’s a path, not too wide, leading over a ridge. There’s some strange unevenness in the darkness, right off the path. It do
