Wilson was running. Running as fast as he could through the snow, the barking of hounds following him all the way. He was unprepared, so, so unprepared. Stupid earmuffs muffling the stupid barki-
His thoughts were interrupted by claws sinking into his shoulderblades as a hound pounced on his back. He let out a cry of pain as more piled on, their teeth tearing through his clothes and into his flesh. The snow was tainted by scarlet blossoms of blood, and the hounds took one final look at the injured form of the poor man before leaving him to die, in the cold harshness of the Constant. Wilson looked about him in distress; his clothes were in shreds and he'd lost all hope of insulation. The winter sank into his bones, cold and unforgiving. Everything went numb, as his vision faded and all was still.
Wilson awoke hours later. This wasn't right, surely he should be dead? He glanced about. He was in a tent, and very much alive. Walking to the tent flap and peeling it back, he realised he was in some sort of camp. There was a fire pit in the centre, and he also observed an ice box, crock pot, and various machines of a scientific manner. There was a tall male sat by the fire, wearing what looked to be mime facepaint; upon noticing Wilson, he waved and started signing, however Wilson was too tired to interpret the sign language, and just tilted his head confusedly. Another person, no, three, filtered into the base. A tall, muscular man; a bipedal spider and a... robot? The robot looked over at him. "WHO IS THIS UNFAMILIAR FLESHLING, QUIET ONE?" the mime responded with signing and the muscular one nodded. "Ah! So tiny wes found injured survivor and brought him back?"
The spider-child looked over. "Yay! Another human friend! My name is webber, this is Wolfgang," he gestured to the other man in the group, "and this is WX-78!" he gestures to the robot. Wilson seems confused by all this. "W-where even am i?!"
"STRANGE-HAIRED FLESHLING, YOU ARE IN OUR CAMP." WX stared at him, showing no emotion. Wilson frowned and poked his hair. my hairs not strange- his thoughts were interrupted by Webber running up to him with a plate of meatballs. "You must be hungry!!"
"Oh, th-thanks. I'm wilson, by the way." He took the plate gratefully. Things finally seemed to be looking up.
