At first, the forest seemed almost peaceful. The tall trees cast deep shadows, and the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves. During the day, there was an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird or the rustle of leaves. But even those sounds seemed distant, as though the forest was holding something back, hiding its true nature.
Peter tried to make the best of it, but the house felt oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him. His father was no better, more withdrawn and distant than ever. There were moments when Peter would catch his father staring out the window, his eyes glazed over, lost in some dark thought.
Peter tried to talk to him, to break through the silence, but his father would only nod absently, his mind clearly elsewhere. The loneliness settled into Peter's bones, and he felt more isolated than ever before.