We have no plan. That's something I'll have to get used to. When it comes to Bea, there's no measured approach, only launchings into an abyss called the unknown.

"If we're not going to the digging site, what are we going to do? Just wander through the forest like a pair of lost sheep?" I ask, nervously tying a knot in one of the cherry stems.

"Exactly that," she replies. "Look at you, all tense. Relax those shoulders; think of this like an adventure. No adults. Fun!"

I huff out the breath I've been holding.

"We'll spend the night here," she carries on. "And we have the rest of the day to prepare for that."

"We should start collecting wood for the fire, then," I suggest, tactfully thinking ahead like always. "But we won't be able to light—"

Bea cuts me off with whipping something out of her jacket pocket. I focus on what is being held right in front of my nose. A lighter.

"Sometimes being a smoker actually helps people," Bea says lightly. I politely turn away as she rummages around for a cigarette. A few seconds later and I make sure I'm well away before the first whiff of smoke can enter my nose.

I delve further into the forest. Might as well make myself useful by beginning to search for wood that will be of use later on. I scan the forest floor and begin to collect the wood until I have a bundle in my arms, moisture seeping into the sleeves of my shirt.

I leave them in a pile on the floor and begin to scavenge for more. There are little branches on the ground, and I don't particularly like the thought of snapping one off a tree. What did a tree ever do to me?

So I travel further into the forest, always in the same direction so I know where the river is if I have to turn back. I bend down to pick the first branch I see when something brushes against my nose.

I draw back, inspecting the twin cherries dangling from the branch of the tree in front of me. They look succulent, a shade of red that looks too bright for this vast sea of green. The cherries are hanging from a particularly low branch that stoops down, almost as though in a bow of invitation.

I turn behind me then back to the cherries again. What on earth are they doing here?

A minute later, I have Bea by my side. She'd joined me after suspiciously flicking her hand to rid herself of the cigarette. I didn't look to see where it landed, but I hoped she cleaned it up.

She says nothing as she follows me to the piles of firewood and the strange cherries dangling in front of our faces.

"You're doing it wrong," she says, signalling to the wood. "You've picked all the moist wood. We want dry wood." Seeing my face, she adds, "Scouts" as though that will solve the problem.

"Don't you think it's a bit weird that there are cherries here," I say, gesturing to the fruit.

"Well, we did just stuff our faces with them a few hours ago, remember?"

"I know, but here." I turn, surveying our surroundings. There's nothing but green and brown. "There are no other cherry trees. It's almost as though it's been placed here for us."

Bea shrugs. "Can't be that dangerous."

Before I can open my mouth to argue with her, she reaches out and plucks the cherries off the tree. Everything is still.

"See?" she says with a smug smile. "It's nothing."

And then she screams.

It pierces my ears, causing me to stagger back, heart jumping to my throat.

When I look back, Bea is not there. Instead, there is a hole in her place.