[He knows he's not alone. It's what all his instincts are telling him - screaming, even, as loud as they can. But he doesn't quite dare turning. Not yet.]
[He waits, heart still beating loud, looks up into the trees. Around himself and the pressing darkness. And when he does spot the green feathers on the ground he stops to stare.]
[Again.]
[But he can't think about it, he tells himself. Not now. It's a trick.]
[Something is coming.]
[Something wants him scared.]
[He forces his eyes back to where he last saw the other.]
no subject
[He waits, heart still beating loud, looks up into the trees. Around himself and the pressing darkness. And when he does spot the green feathers on the ground he stops to stare.]
[Again.]
[But he can't think about it, he tells himself. Not now. It's a trick.]
[Something is coming.]
[Something wants him scared.]
[He forces his eyes back to where he last saw the other.]