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

4: A Place to Stay

Wilson was baffled.

Wait. No. Scratch that. He was astounded. Did those words mean the same thing? Wilson couldn't really remember, and he honestly didn't care.

How had Westley made it all the way to his camp—where she has only been once before—in that terrible condition she held for so long? She didn't have a map; at least, not from what Wilson has seen. Could one person really have that much stamina? Or was it something worse than that?

Wilson's face was drawn into a grimace as he stared into the fire. His mind was rampant with paranoid thoughts, most of which probably called for a few flower pickings the next day. The once labored breathing of his new patient had quelled into small sighs as Westley slept, oblivious to the frown Wilson periodically caught himself sending her way.

Wilson didn't dislike her. In fact, there was a tiny, chirping voice in his head that was desperately trying to convince him to let her stay with him.

The poor woman almost died, it reminded Wilson. Do you really think she can survive a second time?

Well, considering that this was a fully grown woman they were talking about who had managed to escape the hounds while on her last legs... Probably.

Although... The pestering voice had a point. Whoever this woman was, she wasn't as attuned to survival as Wilson was. She was still new to all of this. And if Wilson let her go back out there, knowing all of this, he'd definitely feel guilty if she died.

That was a good excuse. Yup. Wilson wasn't considering letting her stay because he was lonely or something. That would be ridiculous and wholly unnecessary. When he was back home in his little mountain cabin, Wilson had been by himself for a good decade. He wasn't going to give into that overwhelming ache that ten years of solitude left you. No sir-ee, Wilson was beyond that. Besides, he'd managed on his own this far. He didn't need someone else's help.

Even if they might need his.

Yet no matter how rational he tried to be, no matter how much he denied it, Wilson was starting to see the upsides to having an extra pair of hands to help around the campsite. Wilson would be able to focus more on science and they'd be getting twice the amount of resources in the same amount of time. Then again, that'd mean using up said resources to make another set of items for another person.

And while weighing his options, pitting his isolationism against his sympathy, Wilson heard a mumbling groan from where Westley lay.

He watched her sit up and blink groggily, trying to rub the sleep out of her gray eyes. It was morning already. Had he really been so caught up in his musings that he hadn't noticed the sun rise? Though to be fair, the days here were shorter than average.

"Ah, you're awake," he commented. "How are you feeling?"

Westley had many answers to that question. Some of them were normal; others involved guttural noises. And there were a couple using words that were very unladylike.

Instead of any of those, Westley chose to go with a rather accurate summary of how she was at that moment.

"My body feels like a sack of bricks and my stomach is caving in on itself, but I'm not being chased by wild dogs anymore, so I think I'm alright. I could be better."

Wilson hummed lowly, thoughtful. He reached beside himself for the berries, checking to make sure they weren't stale. It'd be awful if he healed her now only to make her sick again. But luckily they were still rather good. It had helped that getting more berries had somehow freshened up the stash instead of the usual opposite effect.