Because Alex and Richard are going to brave the forest after everything that's happened this weekend.
Seriously, Richard, I know you're not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but really?
After spending five hours cleaning organs off the camp ground and trying to put out the fires of what used to be our tents, all while the insides of your stomach seemed to have turn to black sludge?
You're going to try the forest?
Oh, but I can hear your response already.
We need medicine.
No shit, Sherlock. We also food other than squirrel and blueberries but that's not happening anytime soon, is it?
We lost five.
Plus whoever wandered off on Friday morning. I'm not even sure anymore. Everything's a bit of a fog and god, I'm so tired.
Look at me, sounding like Alex.
Let's stop bitching and get to some exposition, eh?
Welp, if you haven't gathered from Richard's post and Collec - pardonnez-moi - bitch's little post, things aren't exactly sunshine and rainbows here right now.
My little visit from Where's-His-Face wouldn't be the only one we'd get that weekend. We were lucky enough to be blessed with a most welcome and appreciated visit from Slim n' Trim himself.
And guess what?
He wasn't alone.
Some blonde-haired punk was with him (and I can take a guess as to who he was) and he managed to fuck a few of us up. Richard's nursing a few deep cuts in his arms ("Just a scratch, Suze. Stop worryin'." "For fuck's sake man, another quarter inch deeper and you'd be bleeding out right now!" "But I'm not." "But that's not the point!") and don't even get me started on Nick. He's got three fractures ribs and a broken leg and both of his shoulders are dislocated.
I guess that's what happens when you'll pulled in five different directions at once.
A couple are in even worse condition.
Hell, we've lost one already. And Chase is not taking this well.
We found him with a stuttering pulse and nearly all of his blood completely drained out of the massive hole through his abdomen. How Trent managed to stand and walk towards Chase, let alone stay conscious is beyond me. Then again, the kid was always stubborn as a mule, so I guess I really shouldn't be surprised.
You ... don't want to know what happened to the other three than Slender got to before everybody got it through their heads that holy shit, we're under attack and none of us have any idea what to do.
Let's just say 'intestines hung like Christmas lights' is putting it nicely. The dark strains are still on the trees and nobody is really willing to do anything about them.
We burned the bodies.
... But you couldn't really call them bodies at that point, could you? They were more like heaps of flesh with alabaster bones sticking out of all the wrong places, drowning in pools of their precious life fluid. I'd go into further detail, but it's already been a long, long night.
All in all though, we still seem to be holding together okay. I mean, there are plenty of us left and god that sounds so sadistic and horrible, hopefully Richard and Alex will be back soon and if the gods doth smileth upon us, perhaps they've found something useful.
Can't even keep a straight face.