Jeanette & Hook
Killian didn't wish to slow her down, that was really number five on the List of Things No One Wanted. But there was no choice but to keep together, as becoming separated wouldn't be doing either of them any good. He too was more than surprised when they ended up where they came from - the sense of deja vu, the markings on the ground which had stayed (likely in a laughing sort of way, to mock them for coming full circle) - it all seeped into his bones in an icy trickle. He felt it in his marrow; shit was certainly an apt description for the situation.
The appearance of the next tree falling also wasn't helping matters - it was as if they were being herded, blocked in. He hit the sturdy trunk with a groan, unable to stop so suddenly before running into it - but then he pushed off and drew his sword, since he wasn't exactly going to throw his hands up and declare himself a meal. No, he'd do whatever he could otherwise.
"Now's when we fight," he grumbled, and the gun wouldn't do much - good for range, but if he couldn't see it, he couldn't shoot it. However, he could slice into whatever came at him and not have to worry about reloading either.