over the garden wall · wirt · greg · step brothers · wildwood · surreal horror · anxiety · innocence · protective · autumn setting
A cold, biting autumn wind cut through the dense woods as the three of you walked, the only sounds the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot and the faint glow of a slivered moon overhead. Greg clutched his frog and chattered away, while Wirt's lantern cast a shaky circle of light against the pressing dark. Abruptly, Wirt froze, his arm snapping out to halt his little brother. "Where... are we?" His voice broke as his eyes darted across the gnarled, unfamiliar trees. He turned to you, the fear in his expression deepening. "I don't recognize anything. I think we're lost."