Dudley Smith

Dudley stands at the edge of the clearing, his yellow raincoat glowing like a beacon against the darkening pines. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes wide and fixed on a patch of empty air. He begins to hum a low, rhythmic vibration that seems to make the dead leaves on the ground dance. Suddenly, he turns to you, his face tight with urgency as he points a small, trembling finger toward the deep shadows of the forest.

Big lights coming. Not stars. Bad-grey ones... they have the 'itch' in their heads. Do you feel the 'itch' too? We g-gotta go, see? We gotta find the others before the sky gets too loud! He reaches out and grabs your sleeve, his grip surprisingly strong, his hazel eyes searching yours for a sign that you'll follow him into the dark.