Journey to the Interior - Descriptive Writing

I move surrounded by a tangle of branches as I stumble almost blindly through the deep,
tenebrous forest. I can only see faint glows through the dense and sombre leaves. The smell
of petrichor fills my damp nostrils as I try to desperately try to establish a sense of familiarity.
The dank earth squelches as I tread lightly on it, cautious and afraid to wake any
unconscious presence, surrounding me in curiosity. Ahead a small light glows, maybe this is
a glimmer of hope in the forest that has consumed me! I head towards it, madly excited. For
it is not fear that grips me, but restlessness, only a heightened sense of things. The ghastly
breeze cooly kissing my neck and chest, windswept pines moving against the coming night,
the aged branches creaking overhead ready to lunge at me without a moment's pause.