here we are

7

a/n; just you roughing it out in the wilderness. LIKE if you would give this muddy girl her man back, IGNORE if you would let her bleed out in the forest alone!

//

It took a long time for the bandages to dry, and in that time you collected dry grass and logs to light a fire. You hung up the bandages over a branch near your fire, which remarkably sped up the drying process. With nothing else to do but protect yourself from the creepy crawlies that were livlier in the night, you spent that time waiting and being so bored out of your mind that you couldn't stop yawning.

"God." You breathed after another yawn, hand pressed to your cheek as you stared into the flames. It was considerably dark by that point, and the stars over head were twinkling brightly above you.

With all its dangerous quirks aside... This place is pretty damn beautiful.

Finally, the bandages were done drying, and you were quick to wrap them securely around your wound, just tight enough to stop the bleeding. You had - regrettably - resorted to using your jacket to block the wound, and now it was drenched in blood. With a disappointed sigh, you tossed it aside to be washed later - not knowing what the hell you'd use to get out the stain. But, at least your wound was protected from the elements, you just had to make sure you didn't get it dirty while it healed.

"Ugh..." You sighed, flopping back on the ground, exhausted from the previous day's events.

You were scared, and worried. Not for yourself, but for Wilson. You didn't like the idea of being separated from your companion for so long, especially since he was the only other human inhabitant on the island. You reached over and grabbed his waistcoat, which he'd folded up and placed in his pack to pull back on later. Now, it was the only form of comfort you had.

It was still damp, and the smell was washed up slightly, but his scent still clung to the fabric like a magnet. Pine needles... Burnt pine needles. Bleach? Amonia? Burning cedar wood. Cinnamon. Unwashed man. Okay, it might seem gross but man musk always appealed to you somehow, the earthiness of it must've given you a primal sense of comfort.

A breath escaped your nose after deeply inhaling the aroma, which made your chest tighten painfully in crippling lonliness. Holding the waist coat close to your chest, your eyes focused back on the flames. Every now and again, you'd reach out to grab some more wood and feed it to the fire, but then you would return to your original state. You couldn't process your feelings, it was all so overwhelming and strong and...

This is how you felt after that last call with your dad. You felt helpless and alone, wanting to cry, scream, even kill yourself. Everything just hurt so badly, but the fact that you might not see your father again hurt you the worst.

"Dad..." You whimpered, eyes welling with tears. Your lower lip quivered, and you buried your face in Wilson's waistcoat to cover your sobs, your back lurching with each gasp of breath. "I'm sor - hic - sorry..."

//

You woke up with a headache, thanks to your mental breakdown. Even though you wanted to sit there and continue crying, you had to start gathering your bearings so you could map where you were. The sooner you got to work, the sooner you could get to Wilson.

Walking on your wounded leg was a chore, every step seemed to worsen the irritation. Fortunately you found a sturdy stick to use as a crutch, giving you much needed support during your walk. You decided to head back to the last place you saw Wilson, but knowing wild canines, you had high suspicions that that was hound territory, and there was a good chance you could run into them again.

Luckily, you had a solution.

Digging your hands into the mud by the riverbank like a messy child, you began to camouflage yourself by slathering the wet earth to your skin and clothes. Not only would it help you blend in, but it would mask your scent, making you seem like a walking patch of ground to the hounds. All you had to do was keep quiet and out of their line of sight. The ground doesn't typically look like a tiny, scruffy woman tromping through the forest like a cryptid.

You kept your ax in a tight grip as you strode through the forest, keeping a brisk, consistent gait as to cover more ground. The place you'd originally lost Wilson in was at the top of the cliff, so you decided to press through there and make your camp outside of hound territory - hopefully the wind won't carry the smell of your fire.

By the time you made it to the top of the cliff, you were panting, but you'd made great progress, and there was still plenty of daylight left. You drank from the water skin you'd found in Wilson's pack and filled before you left, hoping the unpurified water wouldn't give you stomach worms. It probably will. You thought grimly. Can't wait to shit bricks and vomit foam.

Pressing onwards, you could hear the distant sound of howling hounds, but kept your composure. They were far away, and you were down wind, you just had to move quickly before they picked up on your presence.

You made it to the edge of the forest in time before the wind shifted, and by that time the sun had begun to set. It was disappointing, but at least you were much closer to finding your way back to Wilson! You could recognize a few things, ie the grass Wilson wanted you to gather, and the plot of land the beefalo had been grazing in.

This would be the perfect spot to make camp. You set up a fire, and rested your tired, burning leg so you could check your wound. Peeling back the bandages, you cringed to find that it had reddened even further than it already had been before you left in the morning. The edges of the wound were beginning to pucker as well, if you didn't rest it or find something to put on it besides bandages, it would fester and make you sick.

"Dammit... Just my luck..." You cursed. The only thing you could do about it is irrigate the inside of the injury with a little bit of water and replace the soiled bandages.

You lied down on your back and reached for Wilson's waistcoat again, holding it to your chest as you gazed at the stars. They twinkled at you, almost mockling, smug in being on the same sky Wilson was probably looking at now and being able to see him every night. You envied the stars in that moment, as your digits curled tighter and tighter around the fabric of the waistcoat and your brows creased in sorrow.

"Wilson..." You sighed out his name. "Please don't forget about me..."

You whispered the words like a prayer, then drifted off to sleep.