The little girl is dragged by her big sister and friend into the forest, tripping over broken twigs and sturdy tree roots hidden beneath the leafy ground multi-colored. His older sister squeezes his hand tightly to keep him from wandering off. Rich aromas swirl around the forest; the tantalizing smells of berries and fruits, teasing them, trying to trick them into taking a wrong turn. The little girl's hair, tangled with the branches of the undergrowth that she and her sister have just crossed. The wind tugs violently at her once white dress, now wet and muddy brown. Golden emerald light streams through the forest, filtered by the leafy canopy above. The trees are dressed in leaves of green, bronze and honey, with a strange sprinkling of springy mass of emerald. They sway gently to the rhythm of the forest which is full of life and the atmosphere of adventure. The leaves whisper tales of lost travelers and adventurers, led astray by their mystical powers. The path is covered in greenery with only a few patches of gray, worn tarmac to be seen. The sun shines generously; and the heat spreads across the forest floor. Flowers are scattered around, seeming to shine with all the colors of the rainbow; purple, tangerine, lemon, lime, blue, violet and indigo. “Hurry up, come over here,” her sister calls, as she and her friend laugh in excitement. “Look, there is a path ahead of you, it is clear and there are not many obstacles. on the way. They laugh again, satisfied with their luck on this trip. Beaming at each other, the two older girls jump up and down, delighted. “I want to go home,” the little girl wailed, tears streaming down her face; she was visibly not excited about the adventure...... middle of paper ......when she was walking with her sister. North, East and West; the path is no longer so obvious now, nor so easy to follow. None of the paths are flat and straight, all have twists and turns, ups and downs; some more than others. Of course, the bends in the trails made it impossible to see all the way to the end. You can never predict where a logging road will lead. The trees cry out to her, urging her to follow her own path, weaving stories of joy, happiness and fun to persuade her to follow their own path. Not knowing whether she should have turned left or right, she continued straight, determined to find her way home. But as she moves forward, something slips silently behind her, gradually drawing closer, waiting for the opportunity to pounce. If the girl turned around now, she would see nothing but her own shadow, even though she knew what was stalking her through the tall trees..