Beyond the black treetops of spruce and pine the sun was setting. The sky appeared a golden yellow, fleece-like clouds drifting slowly in the dying light. There was no snow yet, but late autumn meant the temperature would drop well below freezing as soon as the night began.
Miranda shivered and drew her cloak tightly about her. An hour had passed now since their car had broken down and she was struggling to stay warm. If only we had brought our mobile phones! She berated herself. She glanced across at Martin, who was kneeling at a small heap of firewood he had gathered. He was going through his pockets now, his movements quick and irritable.
“Where the hell are they?” he shouted. “I know I brought some.” He looked up at her, his eyes weary but his face determined. “The matches, Miranda. I can’t find the matches!”
For some reason she felt he was blaming her and this annoyed her. She was about to reply, but as she opened her mouth to speak a sudden movement to her right caught her attention. She squinted to see more clearly in the dark and hazy air. A dark figure was standing completely still some thirty meters away. Was it a man? A woman? Miranda blinked, then swallowed hard. “Hello!” she called. There was no reaction the figure did not move. Martin had stood up now. “Look,” he said, pointing towards the figure. “There are lots of them.” Now Miranda could see it, too a faint light was glowing somewhere in the forest, and several people appeared to be standing silently among the trees behind the first figure.
“We’re miles and miles away from the nearest town,” Miranda whispered. “Well, they’re probably just campers,” said Martin. He did not sound convinced. “So why didn’t they answer when I called?” retorted Miranda. “Why are they just standing there?”
Martin drew a deep breath. “Hello!” he shouted loudly.
...
