Lyra stood motionless amidst the trees, eyes trained on the misty expanse of forest before her. In the unnatural stillness of the afternoon, a large crash from somewhere in the distance had drawn her attention. She couldn’t make out much - fog hung low, filling the empty spaces between the trees, obfuscating her vision.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been walking. She vaguely remembered pavement turning to mud turning to pine needles beneath her boots, but she had no concept of how much time had passed. She still held her briefcase tightly, knuckles white from the strain and the frigid, late autumn air. She’d used an old handkerchief to cover her hair, protecting it from the damp and the cold. But still, she shivered.

When she was certain whatever had made the crashing noise was gone, she took a seat on a dry patch of earth and exhaled a puff of breath. It billowed before her, and she released her briefcase, hugging her arms tight to her chest. She had never felt so cold, or so alone.

Leaving home had been a desperate, split second decision. She hadn’t given it any thought beyond her escape, hadn’t packed any food or even planned where she was going. The forest called and she answered. She closed her eyes and her mother’s face swam to the surface of her mind. For a moment, Lyra lingered on her mother’s soft smile and rosy cheeks. For a moment, she let herself long for her mother’s warmth.