Genie Harrington, eight years old, wandered through the woods, alone. She was with her friend, Will Byers, and got bored while he left to gather more crayons. So, being the curious girl she was, she began to venture off on her own.
All she remembered was walking for hours, and the sun had set long since she passed Castle Byers, the fort Will had built a while back.
She was alone in the cold dark of the night, mosquitoes biting at her bare arms. Despite it being the middle of August, the air was freezing. It made her nose red and her lips numb. Her throat was hoarse from calling out for her family, so she slumped against a nearby tree and buried her face in her knees. The small girl was too afraid to cry. She worried the tears would be frozen against her cognac brown eyes by the chilly night air, unaware that this was impossible in 41° weather.
It didn't matter. Genie didn't cry often anyways.
One thought crossed her mind as she drifted off to sleep, assuming it was already midnight: What a crappy way to start my birthday.