You set up camp and light up a fire. The danger seems to have passed, and you find comfort in the warmth of the campfire.
Except for Will.
When he tries to drink, the water tastes like brine, so salty it burns his throat going down. The food is just as bad. The bread, the dried meat - they all taste like the ashes scraped from the bottom of a long-dead fire. Every bite is a punishment, and he has to will himself to eat to satisfy the pangs of hunger.
And when he looks up, he notices they are no longer alone.
A man sits across from him, just beyond the reach of the fire's warmth. He is tall and broad-shouldered, perhaps in his forties, with a thick beard of black and iron-grey. His eyes are dark and intense, fixed on Will with a knowing, unreadable gaze.
He says nothing. Just watches, as if he's been waiting for Will all along.
OOC:
For the time being, no one else can see the man, other than Will.