As they traveled deeper into the forest, the trees grew sparser, and the widening space gradually squeezed away their subconscious sense of security. No one said it aloud, but it was clear that many had begun to miss the dense woods that had once hindered their progress.
The Squires on the edges of the group kept glancing around, casting inscrutable looks behind the bare, rugged tree trunks, as if something might emerge from the forest's misty light, no longer screened by a green curtain.
They made small talk to pass the time, sharing all sorts of rumors. But life in the castle was so monotonous that there was little for gossip to grow from. Their remaining topics were soon chewed over and exhausted, leaving them to pick meaningless scraps from the unchanging food and training just to sustain their dull conversation.
Their scattered chatter had lost its purpose. They kept talking simply to maintain a sound in their ears and ensure the group didn't fall into the hollow silence.
The forest had hidden its other side, leaving visitors to discover it when they fell silent: there was nothing here that made a sound apart from themselves. The chorus of insects that filled the night was entirely absent, and even a birdcall was hard to hear.
It was like suddenly realizing, amid the din of a banquet, that the clink of your glass against the table had been the last sound in the entire hall. It stirred an instinctive sense that, in the vast silence around them, as if all things had stopped, something responsible for the change was watching.
With every passing moment spent marching through the lifeless forest, the feeling of being watched grew stronger. Some began to complain that the sparse vegetation made the group too conspicuous. Before