you'd be out in the woods but you'd hear the soulful whine of a guitar string picking out an irregular and unpleasant tune it repeats like a song glued into your brain it then rises in pitch, causing you a headache and fatigue it's really no surprise if you've already stumbled into his web the thread of his vocal cords flay outward from his mouth his mouth is closed, but you could hear mumbling without his lips moving he stands from where he is you don't know how but he speedily walks your way