In search of joy, humans always tend to overcome the fear of trespassing, the feeling of being in the absolute wrong place.
It lurks in one's familiar with such sensations and, in the end, becomes part of the wicked, vile, and pure evil that woke up at the moment you were trying to go past it unnoticed.
When one's curiousness peaks up, everything molds together behind the trees, ready to clinch its teeth into their basic idea of knowing what and who they've become once they anxiously join the celebration within the woods.
Turning back doesn't seem to fit or even help them anymore.
It was cracking its bones. It sounded high up.
Something was moving from above them, above the trees, something gigantic. It made them hold their breath, forget what was yelling for, and forget about Elliot being there. It was looking down at them and exhaling. In a way, it made them think it was annoyed, tired? No one was sure.
They weren't sure about many things after what was seen, locked up in their heads to remember forever. To wrap around their hearts when the dance of the witch lefts them.
