The howling wind gently pushed her along the dirt path,
her cloak lightly brushing against scattered pebbles,
into the forest that is known by little.
Perhaps in the hopes that no one could find her there,
nor remember her name when they do.
Most do not recognise this place.
Some who do know may say that the ones who enter are 'foolish'
She, like most, fears pain and hurt.
And thus, she enters.
There's no going back.
Foolish or not, she's made her choice.
She clenched the rims of her cloak
as she walks away, out of their lives, forever