The next few days went by without incident. She was as careful as ever to avoid being seen, and her concerns were redoubled as she saw the man – she really wished she knew his name at this point – creeping around in the early morning one day placing things in the tall grass and along the tree line near his base. She suspected they were traps. She went down one day after he left to check, and she discovered several well-hidden boxes attached to trip-lines spread around.
She wasn't about to set any off just to see what they did. She simply took care to avoid them, and lamented that her return of the supplies clearly hadn't been enough to cool his hostility towards her.
That particular day was cool enough that she was really forced to consider the possibility that winter could be approaching. As decent as her setup was she was not prepared for a cold season. No berries, no carrots, and if the pools froze her last source of food would be gone as well. She would need something else.
Rabbits.
She sat at her lookout waiting for Red-vest to leave. As soon as he did she grabbed her sketchpad and made for the plains. She was going to examine one of his traps to see if she could replicate it without having to steal it.
He obviously hadn't been managing his traps recently. The three nearest the northern forest were all sprung, and while she did stop to quickly examine them she really needed a set one if she was to understand the setup.
She found one roughly in the middle of the savannah, halfway between the forest and the swamp. She hunkered down to examine it and pulled out her sketchpad and pencil.
She began drawing the snare, taking note of the knots and points of tension. She wasn't sure how exactly he tied everything off, but she did her best to figure it out without touching anything. She didn't want to trigger his trap by mistake.
As she was making notes on her sketchpad she realized how badly her neck was hurting from being craned over for so long. She rolled it along her shoulders to alleviate the tension. As she did so she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A hint of red.
Her head whipped around. There he was, standing on the edge of the savannah, staring at her. He'd been making his way quietly towards her from behind. How had he gotten there?
He must have abandoned whatever he'd been doing and come back to base – he'd barely been gone twenty minutes. He must have seen her from the forest and crept along the edge of the grassland, low to the ground, to avoid detection. And now he was stalking her.
Her eyes were wide and her pulse notched up. He hadn't drawn it yet, but his spear was strapped to his back. He'd paused upon being seen, but almost at once he resumed moving. He was walking quickly, but not sprinting. Yet.
She quickly planted a hand behind her to push herself to her feet. As she did so she screeched in panic – she'd put it in the snare, which was now fastened tightly around her wrist.
She jumped up and immediately fell back down. The man had driven the peg too deep for her to wrench it up easily. She didn't have a knife with her – she'd have to get it off some other way.
She looked back to see that he'd paused again. He was close enough that she could see the expression on his face, though it was twisted into some unreadable expression.
Her hands started shaking. If he sprinted for her now, he'd be on her in moments.
She forced her panic down and looked at the knot. She wanted to grab it, to tug it, to rip it apart and run, but instead she delicately slipped her finger through the loop and used her nail to pry the thin rope back. She stared intently at the knot, not looking up at the man lest she lose track of what she was doing and let it snap taut again.
He was moving again. Closer. Still not running for her. He still hadn't drawn his spear. She was still panicking.
Just as he reached up to grasp the shaft of his weapon she finally managed to loosen the snare enough to get her hand out. Abandoning her drawings and pen, she sprinted straight for the swamp.
She heard him call out, "Stop!" And by the subsequent sound of feet pounding on the ground, she knew he was pursuing her.
There was no way she could get away from him like this. He'd been too close. She could possibly beat him in a dead sprint, but not for long enough to get adequate distance between them. No, she would need to try something different. Something dangerous.
She ran towards her fishing pool, the one she hadn't visited since her first time trying out the pole. There was one thing there that she was fairly certain would at least serve to hold the man up…if she was lucky.
She desperately scanned the ground in search of her one chance. The purple lump she'd failed to even notice on her first visit.
There! She saw the mass and ran for it. As she approached she saw it shudder, only slightly. She needed to wake it up, fast. She glanced back to see the man hot on her trail. She'd put a good fifteen feet of distance between them, but it still wasn't enough. If she could wake this thing up –
She ran for it and, seeing that it hadn't risen yet, jumped. Rather than vaulting over it she jumped on it, foot landing squarely on the insidious hump.
There was a squelching sound beneath her as the tentacle monster reared up. She flew past it, getting out of the way before it could hit her, and she heard the man yell, "What!? I thought I'd gotten them all!"
He sounded like a man expressing frustration at the resurgence of a troublesome weed rather than a giant, furious, Cthulian plant monster. She reached the edge of the southern forest, the one she hadn't stepped foot in yet, and glanced back in time to see the man stopped just out of range of the thrashing creature.
He was staring up at it with a mildly annoyed expression, spear clutched in his hand. Then he looked past it, to her, and his expression grew troubled.
She swallowed heavily, turned, and ran into the forest.
She'd been running for a while. She'd veered off a straight course a while back, taking care to make sure she knew where she was. She didn't want to get lost in here. The only light she had was her cellphone's flashlight, and that wouldn't last nearly long enough to get her back to camp.
She pulled the device out to check the battery and winced. It barely had any power. It probably wouldn't last more than a minute, tops. She had a solar charging cell, but she'd forgotten to plug it in. Well, at least the solar battery would be full when she got back. Fat lot of good it did her now.
She'd been making a wide loop in an attempt to get back without risking running straight into the man if he decided to pursue her, but now she turned fully in the direction of the swamp again. The sun would set soon. She needed to get back or risk running afoul whatever came out after dark.
After another twenty minutes or so she reached the outer edge of the forest again. She hadn't seen anything of interest, besides another giant spider that ran away from her. Pausing just inside the tree line, she looked out on the swamp.
Her heart sank. The man was still there. He'd taken up fishing beside the pool, and had a sizeable stack of fish beside him. He started scanning his surroundings, and she jerked her head back behind the tree.
It was getting very close to dark. He'd never been out this late before, not for something as trivial as fishing. He was waiting her out.
Well, he'd just have to wait a good long while, then. She was not going out there. There was no way she'd be able to sneak past him, but he wouldn't be able to stay out much longer. He didn't have a torch with him, nor anything to make a fire with. Unless he had some other way of fending off the dark, he'd need to leave soon.
She stood behind the tree for another half hour, muscles tense, waiting for him to pack up. Finally he did so, gathering his fish and stowing them in his backpack. He slung his fishing pole on his back and turned once more to the forest, prompting her to hide again. When she looked out a minute later he was walking to his base, his back to her.
She shivered. It was late now. Dark enough for the thing to come out, but still just barely bright enough for him to see her if she made for her camp. She'd just have to wait for him to reach his base and hope she wasn't attacked in the meantime.
She waited, and as she did so she sensed the emergence of the shadow creature. Her heart sped up, her hands grew clammy, and all she could do was keep perfectly still and pray she wasn't noticed by either of the things that seemed ready and willing to kill her.
A few minutes later he was finally out of sight, and she put on all the speed she could muster and ran. Almost at once she felt the presence take notice of her.
For the first time, she heard it. A deep, growling hiss in the forest behind her. As she felt it approaching, her sense of the creature became sharper, more intimate, and she was instilled with a sense of…
Playfulness. Whatever this thing was, it was having fun.
It was close. It was very, very close and she wasn't going to reach her base and even if she did she wouldn't be able to start a fire in time and she needed a light and –
Eyes widening, she thrust her hand into her pocket. The thing growled happily as it rushed in for the kill, but Allena clicked on her phone, pressed frantically on the picture icon, pointed the camera backwards, and clicked.
Cheep! The phone-light flashed blindingly as the picture was taken, and she heard the creature behind her roar in displeasure and fall well back. The phone wouldn't be able to take many more pictures – three or four at the most. Would it be enough?
It would have to be. She was maybe halfway across the plain, nearing the forest when the creature began rushing her again. She pointed the camera back and clicked.
Cheep! Another flash. Another roar. Almost there.
It seemed the creature was beginning to realize the flashes of light weren't going to last. It rushed her again much more quickly. Just before it reached her she clicked. Cheep!
A furious snarl. She'd reached the forest. She clicked again, and wildly wondered exactly what she would see if she got a chance to look over her pictures.
She heard the phone play its out-of-power tone and shut off just as she flew into camp. She kept the fire stocked with kindling at all times now, flint beside it in abundance, and she lunged for this just as she felt the creature darting for her one last time.
Just as she stuck a few sparks onto the dry grass, a searing pain slashed across her left shoulder blade, and she cried out. The creature snarled happily, and something wrapped around her leg and began pulling her back into the forest.
Then the fire caught in earnest from the sparks, and the force gripping her leg let go, receding with a disappointed growl.
She crawled back to the fire, blowing frantically on it to make it catch faster, and soon she had a merry blaze to ward off the dark.
She wasn't feeling remotely merry, though. Her heart was pounding, her breath was heavy in her lungs and sharp in her throat, and her shoulder was screaming in agony. Spent, she collapsed by the fire, thankful that she had at least enough kindling to get her through the night.
She wondered how heavily she was bleeding. Would she bleed out before morning came? How was she supposed to treat the wound? She couldn't even reach it.
She whimpered and closed her eyes, willing the fear, pain, and uncertainty away.
She was drifting lazily in and out of consciousness for several minutes before she heard something rustling in the bushes.
She turned her spinning head to the side to see a light flickering in the darkness just outside of her camp, and a moment later the source became apparent. A torch emerged gripped tightly by…him. The man. He'd found her at last.
Her throat constricted. He was gripping his torch in one hand, but the other held his spear, drawn and ready for use. He caught sight of her at once, laying facedown beside her fire, and his eyes widened in shock.
The blood-loss must have been pretty bad, because she found that she lacked the energy to do anything. She barely even had enough energy to be afraid at this point. She said nothing as he walked over to her. What was there to say?
Instead she just scrunched her eyes closed and waited.
She heard him kneel down beside her and felt the light warmth of a hand on her back. After a moment of silence, he said, "Oh, dear. This doesn't look good. And no medical supplies here either, I shouldn't wonder."
She cracked her eyes open and looked up at him. He seemed to be examining her wound, and when he caught her eye he explained, "I saw those flashes of light leading to this little branch of the forest and assumed you must have been fleeing the Shadow that stalks the night here. I grabbed a torch and came out to investigate. It's a good thing you managed to get a fire going – that thing is merciless."
She groaned in concurrence and shut her eyes again. She was tired.
"Ah, none of that, now. Come on, we need to get you back to my base. I have medical supplies there. Come on, up."
And with that he moved to her other side, wrapped an arm around her, and started tugging her into a kneeling position.
She opened her eyes and looked at him again. It seemed he wasn't as hostile as she'd assumed. Was he really trying to help her?
Obviously he was. Once she was kneeling he got an arm under her shoulder and helped heave her to her feet. It agitated the wound on her other side and she winced in pain.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But we need to move. This torch won't last forever, nor will your blood supply. Let's go, quickly now." He began half-dragging her towards out of the camp, towards his base.
The journey seemed a bit surreal to her, not unlike that first night she'd heard the voice – Maxwell's voice – come to life on the radio at the museum. As they stumbled through the darkness she asked, "Who are you?"
"I," he grunted through the strain of supporting her, "Am Wilson Percival Higgsbury, gentleman scientist, survivor extraordinaire, master and tamer of this vile wilderness. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
She thought he sounded a bit full of himself, but in a quirky way rather than an irritating one. She said, "You're Wilson? The real one?"
"Real one? Is there an imposter of some sort running around?"
"Mhm," she replied drowsily. "Some guy named Maxwell."
To her dull surprise, Wilson seemed to recognize the name and responded to it with a low hiss. "Maxwell! Of course. That…bah. I have words for that man, but none that would be appropriate to utter in polite conversation."
Yeah, she had a few words for him too, but darned if she could remember any of them. Her head nodded and she heard Wilson say, "Almost there, come on, just a bit further."
It was just as well that they were close – the torch was burning low. Thankfully it seemed that Wilson had left a fire going because as they neared the base Allena could hear the crackling of a large blaze.
For the second time she passed between the rough stone pillars that marked the entry to the man's home. This time with his permission. He dragged her the last short ways to what appear to be a makeshift medical station and put the torch out. He sat her down heavily on a low bench and said, "Wait here. I'm going to get a bit more light and fetch my salves and sewing kit. I already have a pot of water boiling, thankfully."
She made a sound of confirmation, but her eyelids were fluttering closed. It was all she could do to stay upright.
She drifted off a bit and the next thing she knew, Wilson was talking to her. She opened her eyes to see that it was considerably brighter than it had been before, and that there was a wide array of medical supplies on a small table near her. She hadn't been hearing him, but now she was picking up the words.
"…a bit uncomfortable, I know, but I need to work on the wound. At least it isn't too cold out tonight."
He started unzipping her jacket and she realized he must have wanted to look at the injury. It was a bit chilly, but she was too out-of-it to protest. Instead she just shrugged the jacket off and let him remove her shirt. It seemed to her that she should probably have been embarrassed about this, but she was just too tired. Her bra strap had been severed by the blow, so he didn't need to remove that.
He laid her face down on the bench so he could work on the wound, and for a moment she was comfortable enough to fall asleep. Then the pain started.
She whimpered when she felt him dabbing at the wound with a hot, wet cloth. "I know it hurts, but I need to clean it," he said. "Just bear with me, I know what I'm doing. I may not be a doctor, but I did undergo extensive medical training during my school days. Actually, I received quite a few commendations from my professors…"
She listened hazily as he recounted his academic triumphs and scientific prestige, and for the sake of not interrupting him she bit down on her lip and kept her expressions of pain all but silent. He droned on quite a bit while treating her wound, and she found the distraction oddly comforting. She decided it was partly his voice, partly his confidence. His voice was soothing, almost musical, with a hint of some vaguely European accent. His tone was one of supreme self-assurance, the subtext of his words clearly stating: 'there's no one better qualified in all the world to treat your injuries than me, so just sit still and relax.' She had to admit, the subtext was hardly necessary given the explicitly grandiose nature of his self-description.
"And finally," he concluded as he finished applying some foul-smelling, stinging salve and reached for a tuft of silky white gauze, "I graduated summa cum laude from that accursed school, in spite of my disdain for their skewed grading systems and absurd tendencies towards politicization…though the title of valedictorian eluded me. A bureaucratic decision, I assure you. I was well deserving of the title." He began unwinding the gauzy substance and applying it to her wound. "At any rate, I think all of that – combined with the extensive hands-on experience I've accrued during my time here – ought to be enough to deal with this."
He pressed the gauze on and she winced slightly. The pain had revived her a bit, but she was starting to flag again. As he secured the gauze in place she said drowsily, "You really are a genius, aren't you? I'm sure I'll be fine…" She yawned.
She sensed him pause, and when he spoke again some of the self-assurance seemed to have left him. "I certainly hope so. It would be…disheartening to lose the first decent person I've come across so quickly."
She hummed in response, barely conscious. Her eyes fluttered closed.
"I have a spare sleeping bag," she heard him say. "I'll set it up for you…"
Her shoulder barely hurt at all anymore. She wasn't sure if he got the sleeping bag ready or not, but it didn't really matter. Within the minute she was asleep.