Miranda, you must leave.
It was the voice again, eerie and empty, right up in her ear. She figured that of all the things she could trust right then, her memory, the people in the weird flowy robes or the voice, the voice was probably her best bet.
She scrambled to her feet and out from the underbrush. She grabbed some branches that were swaying above her head and used them to propel herself forward through the thick wood.
The trees were tough to navigate though. The twigs and leaves scratched at her face as she alternated between running and falling.
But no matter how far she seemed to run, she could hear the strangers following in her wake, being guided by their senses, no doubt. They called out to her in calm voices:
"...Miranda, come back to us, - Miranda, we want to help you, - Miranda, we won't harm you..." And on and on.
She ducked her head for a moment and rubbed her eyes to clear the incessant noise from her mind, running all the while. She raised her eyes just in time to see a huge branch looming out into her rugged path. She had no time to react but went barreling into the tree, knocking herself onto the cold ground.
Her environment began to darken around her as her eyes fluttered open and closed. The last thing she remembered before she succumbed to her concussion were six hands reaching down through the darkness and grabbing hold of her, lifting her up and carrying her away.