The forest was dark and loomed. The little girl could recognise a good metaphor for the unconscious when she saw it, but that didn’t stop her from being afraid of the tall grabbing trees, the glowing eyes that weren’t really there when she braced herself to look and the shadows that grew and followed and spread.
So she ran as fast as she could, keeping to the bright narrow path, running back to the safety of home, terrified to stray from the path. Off the path, she might fall into the clutches of the wolf.
And she might like it.