The blue sun is setting over the low mountains, its pale dusky glow barely lighting up the thick forest. My feet feel heavier as more dew collects onto my worn leather boots, but they’ve carried me so far I won’t lose my trust in them. A thin mist settles under the canopy of trees, making it harder to see even with the dinky flashlight I have stored in my bag.

I squint my eyes in retaliation, eyebrows bunching together and I lift my hand to wipe the sweat that has accumulated there. The air is humid, thick as if it’s almost solid and you can never breathe enough in. I ran out of water hours ago—and even then, the ice keeping it cool had melted, granting no relief from the temperature.

It’s then when the compass that had been leading me forward slips from my hands, and I curse my stupid butterfingers one last time as it tumbles down the endless mountainside and into the abyss.

Crap.