Wilson stared at the cold drink in front of him, still fresh, still heavenly.

Recently, everything had been dropping little things related to Winter's Feast. Hot cocoa, eggnog, cookies…

The particular spider he'd just killed had dropped eggnog.

How were these creatures able to get their mitts on this stuff? There wasn't any kind of ingredients that were needed for eggnog on the island, let alone something to store the drink in.

The most they had in terms of storing a liquid was repurposed bowls that used to have healing salve in them.

And yet, the white liquid had a mug. A glass mug.

Maybe it was the fact that the Constant was under new management. Maybe they'd brought this stuff in.

Maybe it was a ploy to get them to lower their guards.

Wilson shifted his weight to his other foot. This was making him uneasy.

He picked the glass up, gripping it in both of his shaking hands. Uncertainity crawled through him, and he stared down into the drink.

Maybe he should give it to Maxwell. Hadn't he mentioned something about it being his favourite?

-o0O0o-

AUTHOR NOTES: I wrote Wilson being paranoid over Winter's Feast stuff, because there's no explanation for spiders and such suddenly dropping cookies, cider and various winter-y things.