She raises her eyebrows, silently asking, Are you game?

Without a reply, she tugs at my hand, jerking my arm and tugging me along until I’m at a fast enough pace. It’s ridiculously quick considering the woodsy terrain, and every few seconds I’m stumbling over a gnarled root, whacking an elbow on a midnight-black, invisible trunk, or accumulating hairline scratches along my face – not that she does, of course.

Although our hands eventually slip apart, I manage to keep pace, driven both in part by dying to find out what she’s leading me to and by the fear of being left alone in these woods, no clue on how to get out. A faint sliver of moonlight reaches through the dense canopy, just enough to illuminate the sight of her looking over her shoulder, a wicked, up-to-no-good smirk on her face as she barrels ahead.

Just when my breathing becomes ragged and I wonder how much longer this is going to take, she halts, and I nearly knock her over. I manage to steady myself, though, and look to her for my next cue.