Firelord
He'd seen a movie like this once before, Quill was pretty sure. Something that had been on TV late at night, only a few days after his mom had been taken to the hospital. His grandparents had been out too, where he didn't remember anymore. But he did remember watching that movie -- something dark and scary and in the woods -- from underneath the nearby kitchen table. As if that might have kept him safe. What had it been? Werewolves? Some kind of monster.
Realistically, that was all bullshit. Quill knew that. He'd seen so much worse. Faced off against aliens from all over the fucking place, had stared down death and somehow come back from it all.
But this place -- the way John was circling the trees like he was hoping a new door would pop back up? Well. It made Quill forget about every quip or joke he might have found about cuddle camping. Camping didn't seem wise. Finding a way out of these woods -- maybe a town -- that felt smarter. "Yeah," he said after a second of thought. "Now you make us a torch and we find a way out of here."