"Oh my god?" The group as a whole may not, but Papyrus rattles at the sight of them. The rotting flesh dangling from faces and limbs... Their blank expressions, their silent staggering forward... They're uncanny. Horrifying in their not-quite-right familiarity, far shoddier than Foster's constructions.

Plus, they're bones emerging from the ground, and the group is trying to follow a trail of bones, and could they be led astray by following the wrong ones...? He whips around in the sidecar, squinting forward for signs of gaunt arms reaching up ahead of them. "And, fortunately," Papyrus pronounces before even telling for sure, "the... monsters only rose as the heroes passed! Following behind... but not surrounding them!"

For good measure, he tosses a wedge of blue bones behind them. Maybe the zombies would respect a wall of bones more than a wall of fire.