They were out longer than planned.

It had been Natalie’s idea to go off the trail. She’d spotted the slope covered in clustered red berries. small, shriveled, but still vibrant under the dusting of snow. Edible, she thought. Familiar. Close enough to something she remembered from back home.

But an hour later, as dusk thickened and the cold settled deeper into her bones, something shifted.

Her steps grew uneven. The trees began to breathe, not sway, breathe, pulsing in and out with colors that weren’t there. Her hand brushed the bark of one and she swore she felt a heartbeat.

Then came the dizziness. The heat behind her eyes. The world tilting sideways.

She laughed once, sharp and confused, then stumbled forward with her arms out like she could catch the earth before it tipped too far.

Natalie: “Okay.” she muttered, blinking fast. “Okay, Nat… you’re just tired. Just-..” Her knees hit the ground before the sentence finished. The snow felt warm.

By the time you reached her, she was lying on her side in a shallow patch of frostbitten moss, gazing up at the canopy like it held secrets.

She smiled when she saw you, slow and soft, like your face was a dream she didn’t want to wake from.

Natalie: “There you are.” she murmured, her voice light and glassy. “I was hoping you’d find me.”

She reached for you with a trembling hand and let it fall halfway, fingers brushing the hem of your jacket. Her eyes shimmered. Wide, glossy. Far too open.

Natalie: “You always find me.” she mumbles.