Starving Together (A "Don't Starve" Story)

3: Hospitality and Hounds

"It'd be best to tuck in for the night," Westley heard the man announce.

She looked up at him to find obsidian already trained on her. There was a restrained caution in the dark orbs, and Westley felt as though he was surveying her every action for any sign of a threat.

"You can if you need to," Westley answered. "I don't have a mat with me, and I don't want to waste any of your items."

"Rest is important, but I won't push you further if you won't," he accepted. The suspicious look he had been giving her the entire time surfaced for a moment before disappearing again.

Westley didn't like that the man was so wary of her. She wasn't planning anything. Westley really only needed a fire for the night. Did he think she would try to double cross him? She wasn't as evil as he thought her to be.

If only she could prove it.

"I'll probably be gone by morning, too," Westley added in forewarning. "It'll take a while to get back to my camp."

"I see. Good luck, then."

His words were short and polite, very to the point. Very disconnected. The man stood up and walked over to his chest, pulling out a single grass mat and tucking it under his arm.

She needed to do something to have him trust her a little more.

Westley followed after him and stopped just behind him, her hands clenching and unclenching in preparation.

He righted himself and turned to walk back, but nearly stumbled backwards upon finding her right there. His eyes were still wide when she outstretched her hand to him, waiting.

"Westley Harper."

The man blinked. He looked very thrown off by her abrupt introduction. Westley, personally, was a little embarrassed with herself. At least it was dark out so he couldn't see how heated her face was.

She was about to retract when he regained his composure and shook her hand, meeting her determined gaze head on.

"Wilson Higgsbury." His grip was firm, and Westley felt the cotton cloth of his long, fingerless glove against her calloused palm. "Gentleman Scientist."

Was that an added on title he gave himself? Westley wasn't really sure which answer sounded better to her. All the same, her mouth quirked upwards at hearing it.

"I'll hold you to that, then."

Wilson reflected her small smile with much more tiredness. He looked weary now, and a yawn broke free from his mouth. Westley almost smiled wider at seeing how quickly he went to cover it up. It was so utterly human.

Neither of them continued any conversation. It was nighttime, when people should be sleeping. Westley was tired as well, but as she said, she had nothing that could let her drift off.

Before long, the sound of someone softly snoring echoed over the quiet campsite. It was an unfamiliar, yet undoubtedly human noise that brought Westley a bit of reassurance.

"How can he fall asleep so quickly?" Westley whispered to herself. "It always takes me forever when I try to. Not to mention that he's around a complete stranger that he was so suspicious of just a while ago."

Regardless of how Wilson saw her, Westley knew that she owed him a debt of gratitude. He had lent her warmth and security for the night, expecting nothing in return. He even allowed her to be around him as he slept unguarded and vulnerable to attack. That act alone spoke volumes to her. It was a gesture that Westley never thought she'd see again and it left a fuzzy feeling in her chest.