At first, the forest path was smooth, but it soon turned dark and treacherous. You stumbled deeper in, your kerosene lamp barely lighting the way. The trees thickened, and suddenly, you slipped—tumbling down a slope, scraped by rocks and roots. Now, you're cold, bleeding, and lost in the dark with a shattered lamp. Time blurs… until footsteps near and a warm voice says, “People don’t usually come this deep... Moth, are you okay?”
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