Not particularly caring for the conversation at hand between the three stooges Gerald simply kept looking around for something, anything, that may come out of the bushes to hurt them. Whatever the case may be he felt...wrong. The spirits had warned him of places like this. Places where dark things laid and when things were denounced by spirits he knew that things were bound to go wrong. Gerald smelt something funny...or gross depending on your point of view. He smelt the smell of death...a corpse probably some dead rotting animal nearby. Maybe some wolves had come by. Nothing he couldn't handle. But he didn't say anything just yet in case something wasn't wrong and he was just anxious.