Lily
Bianca treaded lightly through the trees and came to a small brook. She stopped and took from her bag a water bottle, which she refilled. Then she contined on her way. It was noon, and the sun was blaring, so she headed through the underbrush instead, careful to slither quietly across and not come crashing through the thick underbrush. Thankfully, the underbrush was full of chirruping of birds and milling about of insects that a few crunches of dead leaves didn’t bother them the least bit.
Bianca slithered through underbrush for hours, until the memory of lunch felt distant and forgien. Also, as a side note, the underbursh was not so thick here. Bianca looked out. She saw the night sky and deep indigo, dotted and pinned back by the silver-white stars. This was the first time she ever considered going back.
But going back was…she didn’t know what, but it seemed somehow…so impossible. She’d have to follow her instinct, and rely on the wilderness to be her guide.