For some reason, when I play Don't Starve, music springs to mind. :)
It was quiet.
A blanket of snow had fallen overnight, silencing the animals and muffling all noise. Silence lay like cotton on the land.
Which is why the sudden footsteps sounded so sharp by contrast.
They were hurried, but not frantic, and were accompanied by a soft boing boing noise.
And then the source crested a nearby hill: Wilson P. Higgsbury, followed by the trusty Otto Von Chesterfield, Esquire.
Wilson ran as fast as he could through the snow, axe in hand, winter cap snug on his head, and heat stone secure in his pocket. He had been using it for a few days now, and knew that it only held heat for so long. Thus, his hurry to get more firewood, with Chester bounding eagerly through the snow behind him.
To Wilson, the silence was unnerving. He had grown used to the noise of this wilderness, even if most of the noises were produced by things that wanted to eat him. So, to jounce his nerves up a bit, he decided to break the silence.
"Jingle bells, jingle bells," he hummed to himself. Well, it was winter, so it fit.
Wilson slowed to a halt, a smirk beginning to steal onto his face. Chester paused by his heels, curious as to why they stopped.
Wilson smiled down at the ground, where he felt that his nemesis hid. Why not have some fun at his expense for a change?
In less than a minute, Wilson was off again, Chester bounding behind him in tune to his new song.
"Jingle bells, Maxwell smells, the Pengulls laid some eggs," Wilson sang cheerily, a broad grin on his face. "Oh what fun it is to hide from some hound dogs every day, hey!
"Jingle bells, Maxwell smells, the Tallbird laid an egg,
Jump into a wormhole and
Poor Wilson got away! Hey!"
He laughed out loud at that—this was doing better for his mood than those flowers ever did.
"Dashing through the snow," he continued. "With a one-horse open…" Here he paused and looked at Chester, evaluating his rhyme. "Chest," he decided finally, and continued on. "O'er the fields we go, and laugh at all the rest!" Here he waved jauntily at a skeleton languishing by the forest edge. "Bells on hound dogs ring, giving us fair warn," He reached a tree and readied his axe. "So we can chop down lots of trees and stay oh-so-so-warm! Oh!" He held this note as he swung his axe and struck the tree.
The tree stood up.
"…dear," he finished weakly.
Somewhere, somehow, Maxwell was keeping track of Wilson's progress. He couldn't help but laugh when Wilson woke the Treeguard up. He lazily conducted with one hand, his cigar swirling smoke in the air.
"Jingle bells, toll bell knells,
There's no food today,
The Treeguard
Took his arm
And Maxwell got his way. Hey!"