Naomi
Fog enveloped us as we looked around. We could only see vague shadows of trees looming all around us.
“How the hell are we supposed to find where we are going?” Greyson groans.
I open the book, and it etches a map into the yellowed page, “I guess we’ll just follow the book.”
“Naomi, we can’t see anything,” Grey complains.
The fog parts and reveals a path, and I look at Phoebe, who shrugs, “What do we have to lose?” She asks.
“Our lives,” Greyson huffs.
I link arms with Phoebe, and we start down the path, “Come on, Grey,” I look back.
“Fine,” Greyson concedes and follows us.
The path winds through a quiet forest; eventually, the fog dissipates, and I recognize the forest. It is yellowed with death and smells like decay. We pass by some falling buildings. After what feels li
