Gwendolyn paused, a chill running through her as she stared into the forest. The trees were ancient and twisted, their trunks gnarled and black, and the air was filled with the scent of decay.
"I wonder what's beyond that, Miss," Dorothy mused, her gaze drifting up the forest.
Gwendolyn didn't respond, a sense of dread coiling in her gut. The forest was unnaturally quiet, the only sound being the soft crunch of leaves beneath their boots.
"Something's wrong here, Miss," Dorothy murmured, her eyes wide with worry.
"I know," Gwendolyn said quietly. "But we must keep going."
As they made their way through the trees, the air grew colder, and a sickly, green mist began to swirl around their ankles.
"What is this?" Dorothy gasped, her voice shaking.
Gwendolyn shook her head, her heart racing. "I don't know. But we have to keep moving."
They pressed onward, but their steps were slow and cautious as the fog growing thicker and denser.
