You decide to keep walking. You can tell that the forest has a deep distrust and dislike of you, and prolonging your presence in any one location would give it a chance to get its own back. You whistle to yourself, an old tune, one that you used to know the words to, but that you have since forgotten.
You begin to relax into your walking, swinging your hands by your side. For the first time in what seems like an eon, you feel almost happy - something that does not come naturally to you.
You walk through the snow, realising how beautiful it is. The snow blankets the ground, save for a few places. The lofty branches of the trees are dusted with snow, and the sun throws its rays down to the ground. Your eyes dart from side to side, taking in the beauty and wonder of the place. You feel most unlike yourself, but this does not trouble you. You are, in fact, enjoying yourself. The forest seems to have relaxed with you.
You see a small trail of flowers that lead into a denser part of the forest, where the grass seems to be green and untouched by snow. You feel an overwhelming sense of pull towards this place, and whilst a small sense of doubt hides in the back of your mind, you are determined to follow this trail.
Follow the trail?