“The map is upside down, isn’t it?”

Zoe's voice is thin, trembling just enough to betray her. We are standing in a cathedral of towering redwoods, the kind of silence that doesn’t feel peaceful, but predatory. The light is filtering down in sickly gold shafts, and for the first time in three hours, we’ve realized the trail markers stopped appearing miles ago.

***

Rebecca

I can feel the sweat pooling in the small of my back, making my cotton tee cling to my skin. I’m the tallest of us, all long limbs and a sudden, heavy fullness in my chest that I’m still not used to. My breasts are aching, hypersensitive against the rough fabric of my bra, a blooming weight that makes me feel clumsy and exposed. I try to keep my posture straight, but as I look at Kate and Zoe, I see the same flicker of panic. I feel the softness of my own hips, widening into a woman’s shape, filling out the denim of my shorts in a way that feels too loud for these woods. I feel ripe, somehow—too soft for a place this jagged.

Kate

My breathing is shallow. Every time a twig snaps, my heart hammers against my ribs. I’m smaller than Rebecca, but my body has decided to ripen in different ways. There is a plushness to my thighs, a curve to my waist that makes me feel like a target. I keep adjusting my top, trying to hide the way my nipples have hardened in the sudden chill, poking through the thin material. I feel the vulnerability of my skin, the way the air hits the exposed curve of my collarbone. We are just young women playing at being experienced adults, and the realization that we are truly lost is starting to settle in my stomach like a stone.

Zoe

I’m shivering, and it isn’t because of the wind. I keep looking back over my shoulder. I swear I saw something—a shadow, a movement—following the rhythm of our footsteps. I am the youngest in spirit, my body still feeling like a secret I haven’t quite learned to keep. My curves are subtle, a budding grace, but I can feel the weight of my own femininity acting as a beacon. I feel small. I feel fragile. My skin feels thin, as if the forest is peeling me open.

***

We stop. The silence is absolute, then it isn’t. There is a sound—a rhythmic, heavy tread of boots on damp earth. It’s coming from the thicket of ferns to our left.

A man steps out. He isn’t wearing hiking gear. His clothes are ragged, his eyes wide and hungry, scanning us not as people, but as prizes. He doesn't say hello. He doesn't ask if we're lost. He just looks at us—at the curve of Rebecca's chest, the softness of Kate's thighs, the trembling youth of Zoe.

He smiles, and the expression doesn't reach his eyes. He knows exactly who we are: three young women, out of their depth, and completely alone.

"You look like you've lost your way," he says, his voice a low, guttural rasp.

He begins to walk toward us, and the forest suddenly feels very, very small.

Name change to one of the Characters 😜