Charlie stood outside in the middle of the forest, the cold rain sluicing off his hat and draining down the back of his neck, soaking his shirt and pants. “We’re lost!” he shouted adding his angry spit to the already wet weather.
“No,” Matt replied as he stood and watched the rain. “We’re not lost, we’ve just haven’t got to a place you recognize yet.”
“How typical,” Charlie said incredulously. “You can’t even admit when you’re lost.”
“Not lost,” Matt answered and pointed. “The graveyard’s over there.” Just then a ghoul pushed through the trees.
“I hate you,” Charlie spat.