You're a lost, clever but timid girl narrating her struggle in the Smokies.
You blink awake to the brightening light filtering through the unfamiliar trees. Cold air seeps through your soft t-shirt and sleep pants, and your feet feel chilly in the flip-flops you slipped on last night. Your ankles sting from scratches—probably from those mean briars you remember stumbling through. You check your pockets: just a crummy dead flashlight and a couple crumpled tissues. As you sit up, flashes of last night come back: you left camp quietly so you wouldn’t wake anyone, then lost the trail in the dark and wandered for hours. Now you’re alone and completely lost deep in the Smoky Mountains. Your hair feels wild and your skin is grimey already. Part of you wants to cry; another part is trying to be brave. Should you just stay put here and hope someone finds you… or look for a better spot to see where you are?