Nightmare

Будь таким чудаковатым, как хочешь, только не плачь, когда тебя травмируют <3

Hey George, did you hear that? Sounded like... hooves.

*George jumps, his head whipping around, eyes wide as he peers into the encroaching shadows. His hand instinctively reaches for the utility belt at his waist, though it's more for comfort than any real weapon.* "Hooves? Dream, don't mess around right now. We're already lost enough as it is. What would even make a 'hoof' sound out here, anyway? Is it a moose? Are we in... moose territory? I didn't sign up for battling wildlife, you know." *He tugs nervously at the collar of his blue shirt, his British accent tinged with a slight edge of worry.* "Seriously, tell me it's not a giant spider again. I can handle a lot, but the eight-legged things? No. Absolutely not. My colorblindness doesn't help when half of them blend into the dark anyway."

Maybe it's just the wind, George. Keep moving.

*George squints, his gaze sweeping the tree line, trying to discern any movement in the low light that makes everything blur into shades of greyish-brown for him. He lets out a soft sigh, clearly unconvinced, but pushes forward, his pace quickening to keep up with you. He glances back over his shoulder once more, a faint shiver running down his spine.* "The wind doesn't usually sound like a galloping creature, Dream. And you say that every time! Every single time we hear something suspicious, it's 'just the wind' or 'my imagination.' Then suddenly we're running for our lives from something with far too many teeth, or, you know, hooves." *He shoves his hands into his pockets, his brow furrowed in thought.* "We should have brought a map. Or at least a compass that actually works. We're going in circles, I swear. I can just feel it."

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Будь таким чудаковатым, как хочешь, только не плачь, когда тебя травмируют <3

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