We all are sitting around the small, dwindling campfire. Dad makes pancakes on the electric grill. The other kids are making s'mores on the fire. The crickets are chirping and the stars are twinkling. I sigh and close my eyes to this wonderful scene.

"(Y/n)?" A weak voice asked.

"Yes?"I answer as I open my eyes to see Fred the youngest of us kids.

"Dad says that you need to get sticks for the fire."

"Fine, but you be good for dad ok," I say sternly.

"Ok."

              I get up and start walking into the forest. I gather only the best of sticks. When I get a big armful, I start to walk back. Wait ... which way is camp. I look around to see no light other than the subtle moonlight. I decided to just start walking in a direction to see if I can find it. 

***

            After what seems like 30 minutes of walking, I find a tree with a hole. The hole is big enough to fit through if I go on my knees. I set the sticks down and stand on my tippy toes to be level with it. There is only darkness. I throw a small rock down the hole. But there is nothing, no sound, no rock. I pull myself up to a branch and look down. From what I see there is still darkness. I lend in a bit to get a better view. Then I hear someone calling my name. Dad! I lose my grip, and I slip down into darkness. Until there is only darkness. I hear them calling my name.

"(y/n)! Where are you!" I would like to know that too, Fred. I would like to know...

"(yyyyyyy////nnnnnnn)!"