The thing is all the more terrifying for the fact that Peter doesn't know what the hell it is. His mind whirls frantically, absurdly, through the list of possibilities as though being up against something big and wrong unarmed in the woods would be made better by matching it up to its proper name.

He grabs at Daniel, not so frozen as the other man, and yanks him along as Peter breaks into a stumbling sprint back the other way. "Fuck!" he squawks. "Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck --"

Maybe they can sic it on the camera crew. The thought would be funny if only he wasn't sure that he'll be feeling its hands on his back at any second.