Doug was messing up again, thinking he was right. Why'd he always think he was right?
I was so intent on Doug I didn't notice Archie until his fist clattered my cheek. The pain...
There was no time to think how unusual this was because Archie came at me again, all fists and tears, face contorted. Bracing myself against his onslaught, driven backwards by the hammering of his fists, I felt nothing as I coldly examined his face, trying to decide if it showed anger or fear.
And still I heard the woods screaming their anger. Our anger.