Woods Breath - A Red Riding Hood Story

When you come to, the fading light of day hurts your eyes. You blink against the unfamiliar brightness that shines across your upturned face in streaks of orange and yellow. Groggy, you roll your head to one side and focus unsteadily on the trees that line the cracked asphalt beneath your supine form. With the sun setting behind them, their silhouette rises darkly in a mass of leaves and undergrowth. As you look deeply into them, a breeze blows against your face and ruffles your hair. The woods are breathing.