The smile (the forest scene/Marcus's POV)

I don't know why Niall would ask that cretin friend of yours to join us; I really need to have a word with him later. Mark my words, Niall: I will get back at you.

Your footsteps echo behind me. Your steps sound normal: the tread is light, like you're used to walking in the forest, but they still sound like the sound of two normal feet. But your friend's… Even their footstep sound outlandish and unpleasant. It's almost like they don't touch the ground when they walk. Everything about them is making my skin crawl. I'm not afraid of them, of course, they are just a scrawny cretin but…

I take a peek at you two walking behind me. Their eyes dart to me in a flash of a lighting, slashing at me like a ceremony knife. It takes everything to not look away. With a tightly clenched jaw I keep my eyes peeled on you two.

I don't know why I chose to turn my back on you. I could do it to you, of course, just to see what you'd do about it. You'd try to kill me, it would be all fun and games.

But them…

There's something in their eyes. It's like they're coated with something beastly. It's like there's an enraged animal trying to rip their way through their jail. It wants to open my throat and bathe in the shower of my blood.

A shudder runs through me as the same eyes now pierce through me. Still they do. Their hollow gaze keeps following my every movement. It's like they know everything about me. It's like they can see me naked and—

I frown and look away, almost stumbling on some roots on the ground. Shit. I'm not afraid of them. That's not the reason why I turned my gaze away.

I merely need to look where I'm going. And the shudder happened because of the stupid wind.

Anger flashes through me. Why would you even have friends like that?

I take another peek. They are whispering something in your ear. Why do your eyes look so glassy when you're listening to them? I don't like this at all.

Robus retreats back to my side from her chase. She knows something is wrong, too. Her cold snout nuzzles on my hand, asking me what we should do.

I don't know, girl. I don't know. I'm planning to find out.

So, once something catches your attention and you turn from us, I ask your little friend:

"Why are you here?"

However, they don't answer. Instead, their gaze locks onto me.

A visage of me hanging from a tree with guts hanging from my opened stomach assaults my mind. Three ravens quarrel over my bowels.

"What?" It's the only coherent thing leaving my dry lips. Just now I realize that I've stopped walking. 

They, however, keep walking like nothing happened. They hasten their step to catch up to you.

You give them a little smile and they smile back.