The forest thickened as they ventured deeper, the trees growing older, their trunks gnarled and wide like ancient sentinels. Moss clung to everything. The light that trickled through the canopy had dimmed into a muted green glow, giving the world around Evelyn a hushed, almost sacred quality. The air smelled of damp earth and pine.
The bears maintained their slow, deliberate pace. Every so often, they would glance back—especially the smaller one, who seemed more watchful. Evelyn trailed behind, ducking under low branches, weaving through thick underbrush, each step pulling her deeper into the forest.
At some point, she lost track of how long they’d been walking. The bus station felt like a dream now, distant and unreal. She glanced around and realized with a jolt that there were no paths anymore—no signs of people, no sounds of cars or voices. Just wilderness in every direction.
Her breath hitched. She was miles from anywhere. With no cell signal. No one knew where she was. And she was following two bears. What was she doing?