Finally, they managed to gather enough wood to build a small fire. Gwendolyn struck a match and lit the pile of kindling, the flames quickly catching and spreading through the dry wood. The heat from the fire was welcome, but it was a small comfort in the cold night.
Gwendolyn and Dorothy sat down, their backs resting against the trunk of the tree. The flames cast eerie shadows across their faces, and the crackling of the burning wood was the only sound in the otherwise still air.
They were silent for a moment, the weight of their situation finally sinking in. They were trapped in a forest that seemed to have no end, with no way of knowing what lay ahead.
"Miss, are you scared?" Dorothy asked, her voice barely loud enough for Gwendolyn to hear.
"A little," Gwendolyn admitted, her words echoing Dorothy's.
"So am I," Dorothy said, her gaze locked on the dancing flames. "I just hope we can find our way out of here soon."
