((At only age eight, Maya was forced to run away from home due to her abusive home life. She lived on the streets for a little while, before moving to the forest because of the dangers of the streets.))

Maya sat in her little den, a hollow covered by a log. She yawned, checking her supplies. She was running low, along with being bored. She sighed, slumping against the makeshift wall. Suddenly, an idea hit her, and she sat up, almost bonking her head on the roof.

“Aha! I’ll go for a walk!”

Maya set off, carrying her backpack and supplies. If possible, she was going to look for a new place to make her den. She listened to the whistles of the birds up in the trees above, and the whispering of the wind through the undergrowth. She quickened her pace, running now and laughing, but almost tripped on a branch when she heard through the foliage… a voice?!