The obstacle may be different, but the story is the same.
Forward: or back?
Behind her lies a forest, fully grown from the seeds of her misdeeds; sown and watered by repentance and remorse.
To go back and visit each tree, was certainly an option.
A far more attractive prospect compared to what lie before her.
A wall of shadow. No. Not a wall; walls are not in the habit of coursing and pulsating.
The darkness before our hero was viscous. To venture would, surely feel less like a step, more like a plunge.
What creature possessed of its sense would ever contemplate going forward?
Were she merely making a pathway in leisure or curiosity, she should not go into this cavernous maw of her own volition.
Should she turn back.
Become a gardener again? Tend to the trees?
The air is still. No wind will choose for her.
She looks back at what has been behind her all this time.
The flora cannot chase her, it can only remain.
She looks forward at what must needs be chased.
The hunt is her garden. She shall tend it with a nurturing zeal, in hopes of a great yield.
One step forward, and she is plunged into the unknown.
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