His family had a cabin there, an A-frame two-story wooden cabin, not counting the basement, and it was nice. Once, it was a getaway from the city’s fumes and a much-needed breath of fresh air. Now, it was still a getaway, but for a different reason. They were there last summer, and they had been there many more in his childhood.

Although his family always planned every moment to the wire, with all these excursions and, particularly, hikes planned, the vacation always became what it was meant to be – not a frantic rush to experience everything possible, but a period of relaxation. His mother and father would make the most delectable food that would launch cascades of enticing aromas through the cabin and even outside of it, where the boy would be in the outdoor hot tub with the most satisfied expression. His older brother would be in a hammock next to it, peacefully reading whatever novel filled his current taste, even that terrible fanfiction. His younger sister would be doing something great and wild and fun, or just be in the hot tub with the boy, like he was now.

The mom beckoned for them to come, yelling out their names and mentioning how the food, the sweet and amazing food, was ready, and then the boy and his sister leaped out of the tub and screamed out that they were coming, sending large splashes of water onto the wooden deck and even a few on the reading brother. Luckily, none hit his book, but he still playfully scolded them while he also scrambled out of his hammock, moving to eat.

Dinner, the great unifier, was splendid, but the boy was typically done in a minute or two. He was commonly told to “savor it” but what was the point when he could have more delightful tastes per second if he wolfed it all down. His sister agreed with this idea, and soon they were both done and plopped right onto a couch.

The cabin was filled with light chatter, and the soft crinkling of a homely fire brought a peaceful ambiance. The sun shone through the windows, leaving cool rays that painted the room in bright color. His father was still eating at the wooden table along with his brother, eagerly discussing who knows what. His mother was on the spacious, beige couch with him and his sister, resting together in all sorts of comfortable positions.

His family is… was the best thing in the world to him. And now he was lost, left with only the directions his family gave him. He was scared.

His feet lagged across the shadowy floor of the forest, brushing the blades of grass and leaving the small imprint of a shoe. His body groaned against every single step he took. His previously pale and clear knees were now stained with brown, dirty marks, the remaining evidence of his many falls and tumbles, and his dark-brown eyes were baggy, soaked with stains of tears. His wavy hair spoofed outwards. He had been up for hours, at least, but dawn had yet to arrive, and the night showed only a small sign of leaving, it was a tiny bit brighter now.

Now, the boy could see a bit further, hardly enough for comfort but it was an improvement. What was previously a single mass of darkness now became a canvas of black shapes that he could barely make out. The trees were brown, old, and elegant, and the boy found solace in the old green lives that also experienced the horror of the night, so he continued, albeit slowly, to find the cabin.

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The entire journey was a fool’s errand. It was a shot in the dark. Yet, it was all he had left, the last bastion of his sanity, and he needed it in more ways than one. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, but he had reached the day. Dawn leaked through the leaves of the tree roof, casting spots of sunlight over the forest and the grass.

The grass was short, and the forest was, thankfully, not accompanied by too many trees. If it was, he would have bumped his head into many more in the night, more than he already had. The boy brought his hand to the top of his head, caressing his bruises as he winced. Instead, this part of nature had frequent meadows where the trees would part, revealing a bright sun that would pleasantly greet him and pristine clouds in all friendly shapes and figures. The sky blue had never seemed so amazing. These moments were short, but they were loved like a calm in the storm.

Many times, on the night before, he had felt suffocated. It got bad, really bad. The mere thought of the things… things waiting to pounce and devour him like so many others before, things that had decimated an entire city into ash and ruin, monstrosities that would eat every part of his body and ravage him alive, paralyzed his body. In those moments, he dropped into a ball and burrowed his head into his arms, blocking his sight and allowing the boy to pretend like danger didn’t lurk around every corner. His breathing became rough and erratic, his chest rose in and out fast, and his sobs were muffled in his arms’ embrace.

He wasn’t past that yet, but he now at least found comfort in the light. However, the light also illuminated the lives that the night had taken, and it took many bigger beings than he.

The pale boy with his maroon t-shirt and blue jeans was walking with his head down, staring at the shifting, green undergrowth that slowly passed by. It was a lonely walk, and he staggered along, feet dragging into the dirt, at least until his eyes rested on something that wasn’t green and lively.

A brown, mangled corpse lay at his feet unmoving - a bear, or what had been one. Half of it was gone and ravaged. Grotesque intestines and other pinkish horrors spilled out of the bear’s stomach, which was completely open to the world and the boy’s widening eyes. Insects gladly hurried into and around the bear, feasting on its remains. Just the bear’s torso alone could easily fit three of him, and yet it was here – left for dead and violated. The boy reluctantly approached it. Its eyes were black with a mix of orange and had lost their liveliness, but they held the bear’s last expression. The dark eyes were opened too much. Almost as if the fearsome beast was scared.

Landmarks were scarce and hard to recognize in the forest, but they were there, usually in the form of a peculiar hill or stone outing. With the boy’s spotting and the guidance of the sun in the east, he hadn’t lost his direction. And he knew he was nearing his goal. He had to be, otherwise, this time, the night would surely take him.

As the sun began to fall and the light began to disappear, the boy kept his eyes searching for both the cabin and danger. He had been lucky so far. Gradually, the woods became more and more familiar. He recognized groups of bushes and plants and trees for what they were: the surroundings of the cabin.

And then he saw it. In all its glory, the wooden cabin remained untouched by the savages of the world. It was masked by tall brown trees, hidden away in a lonely meadow. Its walls seemed impenetrable, its roof pierced the sky, and it called the boy with a sense of homeliness.

The boy hobbled over to the cabin door. He was ridden with small cuts and bruises and smears of dirt, and he was heavily exerted, but he had made it. As he opened the door just enough for him to pass through, the cool, friendly air of the cabin washed over him, opening to a spacious interior. His body was worn through, and it finally caught up with him. The beige couch had never seemed so inviting before, and the boy collapsed onto it, shoes on and all.