Survival

Our large group filled up the cars of the chair lift. I pulled out by book and read, noticing uncomfortably that Justin, the not-bad-looking boy above me, was glancing at me.
I tried to ignore the weird feeling in my stomach and keep reading as the lift traveled the long wire nearly straight up, then nearly straight down. We went followed a complicated path, seeming to me like we'd gone in a circle.
When we finally hopped off at the top of the mountain, it looked a lot more sinister than I remembered. The trees were dense and their leaves were dark. A little ways away, a wooden roller coaster creaked under the sound of the screaming crowds. A roller coaster on a mountain like this?
"I want to go on that!" The youngest boy in our group shouted up to our leader, a hunch-backed, grizzled old woman. The boy's name was Tyler, he was in second grade. He was short for his age with blonde hair, striking dark eyebrows and dark brown eyes.
The woman turned to him. She had long, greasy white hair and bloodshot eyes, one green and one milky white. "I'll take the boy." She said. "You guys stay here and make sure we get back safely." None of us could figure out why she favored the boy so much.
So, we stood and watched as she took his hand and led him far away onto the roller coaster. I sat down by a tree to read, and had read for a while when I heard the woman moan softly. I jerked my head up, alarming the others around me.
"The cart fell off the track." The woman gasped. Her brown shirt was soaked with blood. "I was attacked by wolves. The boy was flung somewhere down the mountain. Please, go save him. This mountain is more dangerous than they told you." Then, she took her last shuddering breath, and her life drained into the soil.
We stared awkwardly at her body for the longest time, when our oldest boy, who was 17 bent down and took the knife from her pocket.
"Well," he said, "let's get going."