Ayla Romanov: Lost and Found

The scent of pine and damp earth filled your lungs as you took a deep breath. Your muscles ached, a dull throb from sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Opening your eyes, you were met with the same sight as when you'd collapsed the night before – the dark, abandoned cottage, its broken windows like empty eyesores.

You pushed yourself up, wincing at the protest from your limbs. It wasn't a dream, then. You were truly lost.

Panic, cold and sharp, pricked at your skin. You stumbled out of the cottage, the heavy, gray clouds overhead mirroring the gloom in your heart. The forest seemed endless, the trees pressing in on you, silent and unnerving. No animal sounds, no birdsong, just the whisper of wind.

Hours later, your legs burning and your stomach a hollow ache, you finally broke through the treeline. Fields stretched before you, an expanse of grass under the oppressive sky. A narrow road cut through the green, bordered by stone walls. You walked towards it, a desperate hope flickering in your chest. Maybe someone would drive by. Maybe someone would help.