“Wh—What is happening?” Tristan was utterly confused with what was happening in the surrounding. The dead branches of the black tree are starting to move on its own. It was moving as if those were vines growing in the farm, but in double speed.
He looked at the trunk of the tree. The faces of the people in the trunk was still there, tracing horribly in the black barks, still moaning in a terrifying tone. He might be confused of what actually was happening, but, what he was sure of, is that they were in a dangerous situation.
“Tammy,” Tristan called her friend.
“I—I am here,” Tammy replied, all pale and is still wary of the situation.
“Stick with me,” he said, “I am sure that this will be dangerous.”
“Th—There’s no need to tell me about th—that, Tristan,” said Tammy.
Tristan f
