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spectrator
“...and even today, he hides in the shadows of these very woods, waiting for the next lost soul he can make a part of his Dark Forest...”
Out of old traditions, Dipper had taken to gathering some of the late-night Shack tours around a campfire in the woods, telling ‘ghost stories,’ or so to speak, legends he’d heard about Hive City, rumors of monsters or accounts of spectral encounters. Tonight, of course, was no exception.
Once the story was over and the crowd had all started making their way back to the cabin is when the boys usually found it a prime moment to talk privately between themselves. Usually it was a quick comment, a joke, a lighthearted conversation, but something was different, this time. Norman remained sitting on the fallen log beside the fire, staring into it. Dipper knew that look, he knew there was something on the other boy’s mind, that he was thinking about something important but not saying a word.
And so Dipper takes a seat beside him, not before moving the old lantern out of his foot’s way. “Hey, is everything okay..?”