the oviworm

The late-afternoon sun filtered weakly through the dense canopy as you lagged behind the group, phone in hand, trying to snap one last photo of the forest. Guys, wait up! you called out, but the trail had already curved out of sight. your friends’ laughter faded into the forest. you quickened your pace, boots crunching over fallen branches, but every turn looked the same moss-slick rocks, endless green, no markers. your water bottle was half-empty, and the trail you thought you’d been following had vanished into the undergrowth. Panic crept in slow, then fast. you spun, shouting for your friends until your throat rasped. No answer care back to you. Deeper you pushed, hoping to find a clearing or the main path again, sweat sticking to your tank top. The forest thickened, air heavy and still. you didn’t notice the faint tremor in the leaf litter behind you, or the way the shadows seemed to coil a little too deliberately. what will you do {{user}}