It was night on the island and the witch stared into the dark–into the thicket while the rest snored inside the camp. Being on guard duty, she kept a stern eye on all movement, but something was different about what she was seeing. There was no man nor a woman staring back at her, but simply a collection of figures coming into view like the moon appearing briefly from behind a cloud before disappearing.
The creatures wore smiles, toothy as can be. Their faces were melting, their necks tilted at an angle, and yet that damned smile flashed through the dark whenever they decided to appear. After a while, she heard them chuckle like hyenas–their voice echoing through the dark, even scattering the birds living in those trees. Yet somehow, despite their voices echoing all around them, none of the party members were awakened from their sleep.
