Mute - Wesson - Wes x Wilson

Chapter One

Wes looked out across the horizon, taking in the view. Birchnut trees were finally growing back their leaves after a long and harsh winter, flowers were sprouting all through the grass and he could hear the not-so-distant chirps of newborn birds. The air wasn't as harsh and frigid as it had been for the past several weeks and flowers were finally starting to sprout up from the fresh grass. If he had the ability, Wes would lie in the grass and just enjoy the smell of the buds, entertaining himself with the bright colors and innocent buzzing of passing bees. However, that wasn't a possibility. Wes was on the verge of starvation, his body badly bruised and beaten from his numerous encounters with hounds, shadow creatures and spiders. Death was a reality he feared he would be facing by the time nightfall arrived. He let out a heavy sigh and stepped forward, diving deeper into the birchnut forest.

It was early spring, and frogs were abundant as ever. In fact, they were so abundant that it was nearly impossible to set up a campfire without being swarmed by the slimy beasts. Wes couldn't carry on without rest, though. He had ran for nearly an entire day, doing his best to hide from the deerclops that destroyed his previous camp. He winced silently to himself as the memories of having his home ravaged and ripped apart by a one-eyed giant, his heart sinking a little. He awoke mid arrival, only having enough time to grab his backpack and a few meatballs. The meatballs had long been eaten and most of the resources he had stored in his backpack had been depleted. He had just enough supplies to build a fire, and he had one final use out of his straw roll before it would wither away. He trekked about twenty more feet before he finally gave up and plopped onto the edge of the brick path he had been following. A dull throb coursed through his body as he lugged out a few logs and grass, barely having enough energy to start a fire to warm him through the night. A torch would have been the smarter choice if Wes wasn't so ill and malnourished, but he was out of options.

Wes leaned over the wood and quickly got to work, creating a spark just big enough to catch the grass beneath his pile of wood aflame. He let out a relieved sigh, glancing at the sky to see that he had made a source of light just in time; the sun was setting. He pulled his straw roll out of his backpack and unrolled it next to the fire. He plopped his bag at the end of the makeshift mattress, planning to use it as a pillow. That's when he spotted it, at the very edge of the illuminated circle around his fire. A mandrake! Wes excitedly thought, unable to wrap his mouth around any words. He quickly reached into his bag for a handful of twigs, tossing them into the flames so he'd have an extra few inches of light to ensure he wouldn't be attacked by Charlie. He struggled to his feet and darted for the food source, ripping it out of the ground as fast as he could. He sped back to his fire, plopping down onto his straw roll and admiring the magnificent, life-saving root in his hands. Without a second thought, he devoured the entire being. Eating that single root filled his stomach and within seconds he was asleep, curled up next to his fire, his head resting against his bag. For the first time in days, he slept soundly and he felt as if his mental state and health were beginning to stabilize. Maybe there was hope for survival after all.

__

Wes was plagued with a splitting headache as his mind slowly stirred awake, his temples pounding and ears ringing. As he rose from his sleep fully, he realized he wasn't by a burnt out campfire in the birchnut forest; he was in a tent, surrounded by beefalo fur blankets and rabbit skin pillows. Just beyond the flaps of the tent, Wes could hear loud clanging from dishes and the harsh voice of an elderly woman.

"Wilson, you ignorant fool!"

A loud clang of dishes sounded once again, almost as if someone had thrown it down on a table. A steady, frustrated man's voice responded to the jab, "Wickerbottom, can you just keep your mouth shut for a mere ten minutes?"

A new voice sounded -- it was small and quiet, presumably belonging to a young girl, "Let's just not fight, it's not like it's a big deal anyway."