Estania walked carefully along the passageway, torch in one hand and string in the other. She had said that it was to knit herself a wedding dress: a dress over which she slaved more months, secretly hoarding the spare string like a squirrel hoarding acorns in a hollowed-out tree.
Now she had enough to take her chance, to weave her way out of the labyrinth in which they had put her, the little orange trail marking where she had been as she sought to reach sunlight once more.
This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for holding the challenge and Philip Estrada for providing the prompt photo!