For a time there's nothing but the thudding of his own heart and the rasping of his own breath in his ears. If the camera crew can track them they're at least not chasing him and Daniel, because the sounds of chaos they leave behind never resolve themselves into the sounds of pursuit. Peter follows the shape of Daniel, afraid the other man is going to disappear into the trees and leave him alone.

He stops in a little clearing short of where Daniel does, panting himself and looking back. They left the crew behind a while ago and as far as he can tell they're proverbially out of the woods, if not literally out of the woods. Maybe now they can catch their breath and figure out what the fuck is happening to them, before they get plunged into some other version of television hell.

There's a little rustle from Daniel's direction, and Peter freezes, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the litany that comes spilling out from the man behind him. He doesn't want to turn around. He really, really does not want to turn around and know what's scared Daniel.

He turns around, and lets out a blood-curdling scream.