Something seems off...

Chapter 2

Wirt woke up to a wet feeling on his hand, which he sleepily swatted off. Something else started shoving him next, and he finally opened his eyes. The world was as black as pitch, and he panicked slightly before realising he had pulled his cape over his head as he slept. He sat back up against the pine he was leaning against, noting that the wet thing he had felt earlier had just been Jason Funderburker.

"I didn't know that your frog found bony fingers comfortable." He said though a yawn.

"I swear it was his idea! He was feeling hungry and wanted to wake you up, but he didn't listen to me when I told him he shouldn't, and the next thing I knew, he had jumped over to you and had hopped into your hand."

Wirt smiled. "And why did you start shaking me afterwards, then?"

Greg shuffled around uncomfortably. "I thought that seeing as Jason Funderburker had already started the job, I might as well finish it off. I mean, nobody likes to be stuck in that limbo between dream and reality."

The older brother felt slightly uneasy at this, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I guess so. Shall we try and find somewhere inhabited?" He asked, mentally adding: and far away from this forest.

"Sure. Do you think they would have frog food there?"

"Most probably, Greg. Do you want me to carry Jason Funderburker for you?"

"Nah, I'm fine. You're too bony anyway."

Chuckling at this, Wirt watched as his brother took the lead, frog placed on top of his elephant "costume".

He looked up, checking how far the sun had travelled since their little sleep. It seemed to be early afternoon, and still incredibly hot. Where the road met the horizon, a slight haze could be seen merging the tangible object of the path in front of them and the idea of infinity, a line forever receding in front of them, like the hopes of humanity and the dreams of...

"Bad poetry, Wirt! Focus!"

Greg turned a puzzled look towards him, wondering why his brother was berating himself. He shrugged it off and went back to pretending to be a steam train.

A slight breeze sometimes bent the towering grasses around them, the waves they formed visible when they were at the top of slight rises in the path. As the sun made its way towards the horizon, Wirt's enthusiasm at the idea of getting back to civilisation dampened. The sweat pouring down his back had him longing for the cooling shade of the Unknown's trees.

He stopped suddenly.

"Greg..."

The younger brother, who had fallen back to walking next to him, interrupted his blabber to answer him.

"Yes?"

"How much time have we spent in the Unknown?"

"Maybe a week, three days, I'm not sure."

"Greg, was the last time that you changed the night of Halloween, like me?"

"Yeah..." His eyes widened in realisation.

"And our clothes are no dirtier than when we put them on on that particular night!"

"Exactly. Except... now, I am actually sweating and it is itching like normal, and it didn't do that in the Unknown. I think we'd better get to a town quickly."

After this little conversation, Wirt's determination was renewed, and when Greg handed him his lucky frog, he took him without a word. As the sun set, he was more or less certain that they would have to make do with whatever food they had left over from the Unknown. Fortunately, the little boy's ravenous appetite had been somewhat reined in by the heat of the day, and they were fine with what they had at hand.