They naturally lower their tone as they make their way through the swamps.
However he is still worried about the noise they make.
Even their whispers are too loud here.
This situation cannot be as simple as a walk in the forest to find the exit.
Although Princess bluntly said it, she is right.
To get out of here they'll have to pay the smuggler.
And the payment seems to be a head. Or several : "One death for two passengers".
But for the moment they are all clinging to the hope that there is a way out. One way to get around the problem. He doubts it, but he also wants to hope.
So he keeps his mouth shut. If everything that is happening around them is supernatural it would be normal to think that every escape route is blocked.
But it would be tragic if there was indeed one and they ended up killing each other without noticing it.
The group has a discussion where several possibilities were emitted in this hope.
They could find a village or town and find answers and in the best case scenario they settle there and live happily ever after. Perhaps their memories will come back little by little with the care of a hospital.
Maybe the police will tell them that they are on a missing list. Or maybe they'll be locked up treated like mad people once they tell their shared dreams, the Headless Knights and the Killer Shadow in a dark mine.
Another possibility would be to find the lake. From there they could try swimming across it. To see what would happen.
Would they wake up at the castle where they ate if they cross?
If they come across the Ferryman, they could question him, and negotiate. If all this fails, they might as well attack him and take his boat.
If they don't try every possibility then …
Should they kill each other right away? Who has the mentality to do this without question without trying to do something else before?
Can Dust even do it? He isn't so sure. Should he wait for the group to tear apart and steal a head when everything has calmed down?
This idea in itself make him uncomfortable.
Or maybe they will just stay there and resign to their fate if they can't go out of here.
Everyone here act strangely. Unlike normal people in this kind of situation they don't panic easily. But does they have the guts to kill?
Not much time has passed since they started to walk when rain begin to fall on their head.
Now the crows on the branches keep silent. But the frogs cry with joy.
As if to welcome the water droplets on their land.
Tapping the ground with his stick he uses his other hand to remove the water that runs down his forehead. His bag tied to the piece of wood.
As he walks by he glances at the man beside him. He is at the head of the group. He walks with big strides but in a slow way. He is even more careful than the boy.
Each of his steps is preceded by his staff. If quicksand were in his way he would notice it quickly.
His gaze is fixed on the path ahead without straying.
Unlike him Dust cannot prevent his gaze from wandering between the people behind him, between the tree trunks strangely stripped of their barks and between the twisted branches. Between the wet ground and the gray sky.
It seems to him that this is a habit. A habit he would have kept despite his memory loss. This habit has allowed him until now to know who says what, who does what and to analyze the general mood of their group.
For example, despite the fact that the old man is behind him, he knows that it is difficult for him to follow them. Yet he insists on being in front of the group. His heavy breathing can occasionally be heard. The charismatic woman stepped forward offering help by extending her arm. But the man refused quite curtly.
As if the simple thought of being dependent on someone else than himself annoyed him.
The woman stopped walking for a moment, visibly embarrassed by his cold reaction. But in the end she didn't say anything and was content to walk by his side.
She didn't seem to be worried about her dress being sullied by the muddy water either.
The ugly man didn't say anything too and flanked the old man with her in a tactic understanding.
Pony is more energetic than all the others like usual. It is she who marks the trees so that they do not turn in circles with her dagger.
Before Dust can do it himself she brings back another staff for the old man. In the middle of the group to help with his leg.
Purple-belly is idle between them.
Princess converses with the handsome man. Even though she must be at least fifteen years older the younger man seem to like her too.
Because her hand is placed on his forearm since a while ago and remains there.
From what the boy hears, they have fun guessing what were their works before the "Dreams".
The guy flirts without any restraints.
- Considering your appearance you could only be a star.
She puts her free hand on her lips as if to hide her growing smile. Somehow she managed to tie her fabric bag to her hips.
- You flatter me so frankly that it is obvious that you want something from me.
- You already gave it to me. That smile is beautiful.
-Truly? Is that all you want?
The man's hand overlap the women's hand in a caress.
-I will take whatever you want to give me.
The smile they exchange appears salacious enough for the boy.
After that Princesse whisper something to his ears. Something that Dust can't hear. The handsome guy nod more serious than before and the women turn to Follower with a satisfied smile.
The three seems to be in a tactic understanding.
The dark brown eye's of Dust are no more than a slit while he observes the trio.
Something more than flirting seem at play there.
Frankly speaking if not for Suspicious he would want to go near them in the middle of the group. Not only can he hears better but he also can feel more secure than to be in the front.
His gaze turn to look a bit more at his companion.
The man is so tall, and suddenly so unapproachable. It' s like somewhere inside him there is a switch. A switch that transform him from a suave and easy-going man to a dangerous and cold human being.
Dust dare not to speak to him in this state.
But if things doesn't go as planned will this man turn against him and attack him?
He doubt that he can fight this big guy.
His gaze trails along his high nose and his sharp cheekbones. His face seems to be all bone and hard edges.
One hand in his pocket he stroke his newly acquired dagger. Can he trust someone here?
The rain doesn't cease. And the frog keep screaming happily.
Dust throw another glance in his back.
Follower has started a conversation with Two who is at the end of the group.
They look like conspirators.