Fork in the Road (part 2)

All I remember of the first day was mother rushing me to the forest's edge, gently pushing me toward it with my backpack swinging in her hand. My pack was lavender that day, new without patches, and the straps hadn't broken yet. I could hear water sloshing and the hollow clang of the matching metal flask inside. The dirt path to the forest was dusty, kept barren by the mowers on their way to the barn. My tennis shoes scratched the surface as I stumbled and dragged my feet. "I love you, sweetie," I heard my mom mumble. "Keep yourself safe, and please practice the things you've learned. Follow the path and don't turn back or you could get lost." As we met the dense treeline our footsteps became softer and we slowed down. She stood in front of me and huffed, out of breath. She smiled when she bent down to give me a hug. Our clothes smelled dry like the dirt clay path. Her hair was sweaty and wet my cheek. It ruffled against my ear, muting the forest sounds- mostly annoying cicadas. I reached up into Mom's hug and she held me quietly, breathing heavily into my neck. Her breath was hot and made my skin itch a little. Her shoulder nudged my chin a little hard as she squeezed me. As I looked ahead, I saw her shirt was wet and the path ahead moistened as it went further in the forest.