Sorry, I slightly messed this one up the first time around. Reupload!

When Wilson awoke, he was positively starving.

"Ohh, I'm so hungry," he groaned before he even opened his eyes. He must have forgotten to eat the previous day…again. Not unusual, but why does he do this to himself?…

"You is good."

"You friend."

Wilson's eyes snapped open at the sound of the pigs' voices. In a rush, all his memories of the past few…days?…came back to him, and he remembered where he was.

He pushed himself up. The mat of grass he had slept on had shredded while he slept, and was completely unusable now - not even a single blade of grass was salvageable. He checked the sun. It appeared to be early morning, yet despite the incredibly short amount of actual time that constituted the night in this fake world, he felt well-rested, albeit starving. Accelerated time, he reminded himself.

Next, he checked his injuries. There was no change. Darn it, he thought; I'd hoped that sleeping might help my body heal. Looks like that doesn't work…

All the same, his head felt quite a bit better, and overall, he was glad he'd slept.

He was just so hungry…

He remembered his findings from the previous day, specifically the carrot and berry gardens. He was closer to the berry bushes at the moment, and he made a beeline for them as fast as he could go. His pigs and Otto von Chesterfield followed him.

In short order, Wilson picked the bushes clean, one at a time, shamelessly stuffing the berries into his mouth - he really was that hungry. After he'd finished off eleven bushes, he felt much better, almost full. There were still three bushes that had their berries, but Wilson was ready to stop.

Suddenly, with a loud "Gobble-obble-obble!", what appeared to be an enormous turkey popped out of one of the berry bushes Wilson had picked clean. Wilson barely had a chance to do more than blink before the turkey thing ran the short distance to one of the unpicked berry bushes and, with a single sweep of both its wings, which it used like hands, gathered up all the berries off the bush and somehow shoved them all into its mouth at once.

"Hey!" Wilson exclaimed. "Get away from my berries, you stupid bird!" He pulled out his spear and ran at the turkey thing. The bird ran from him, making surprised exclamations, and was just a little bit faster than he was; all Wilson could do was chase it away so that it wouldn't come back to eat the rest of the berries. Once they were a fair distance into the woods, Wilson stopped. I sure showed him, he thought.

Then he noticed that his pigs had been running behind him, and passed him now; they appeared intent on chasing down the bird. Wilson blinked. Are they doing that just for me? he thought. That's nice, but I doubt they'll be very effective…

He was right; the bird was just fast enough to avoid the pigs, though the two pursued it relentlessly.

"Hey!" Wilson called to them. "Give it up! It's alright!"

They ignored him.

Wonderful, Wilson thought. Stupid pigs…

A minute later, however, the pigs somehow cornered the turkey thing and, with one blow each, killed it. They then ran back over to Wilson…then ran back to the dead turkey, apparently intending to eat it.

"Oh, no you don't!" Wilson said, and he ran over to the bird carcass and shooed his pigs away. They didn't listen very well, but for some reason, they still wanted to keep some distance between him and them, so they backed off all the same.

Wilson found that what the pigs had cornered the bird against was a ledge that dropped off steeply into what appeared to be an ocean. Wilson looked over the edge. It was a long drop, the water was tumultuous, and there was no way back up; the bird would have died if it had jumped, only much more slowly.

So…the edge of the world appears to be an ocean, Wilson thought as he gathered what meat he could from the dead turkey thing. Unusually realistic for this world. I wonder if there's some way to cross it, and, if so, whether there's anything beyond it…

Probably not, but that was another experiment for another day.

From the large turkey thing, Wilson was able to get a smallish chunk of meat, and also a whole drumstick. Only one drumstick, oddly enough…the other leg simply refused to come off as a whole. Oh well. Food was food, and he knew now that he needed it badly. Starvation is the biggest danger to guard against here, Wilson thought; nearly any risks I take will be for the sake of food. That, or a way home…

He really wanted to go home. He'd never been exactly happy there, it was true, but at least he hadn't had to fight just to survive. What's that old saying? "You don't know what you've got until it's gone"? No kidding…

"Time for food," he heard one of the pigs say.

He looked up, just in time to see the pig pick up something very small on the ground and eat it happily. The other pig looked at Wilson and made a strangely human-like pouting face, rubbing his stomach with one hoof. Their loyalty might fade if I don't keep them fed, Wilson thought. He looked at the meat he had salvaged from the bird. Well, I am full…and these pigs did get me this meat in the first place…

Sighing, Wilson walked over to the hungry pig and gave it the drumstick. "Here," he said.

The pig ate it happily. "I love friend," it said.

"Yeah, yeah," Wilson muttered. "Here, you can have this," he said to the other pig, holding out the other morsel of meat he'd managed to get out of the big bird.

"I eat food," the pig said as it happily ate the meat. Again, Wilson sighed.

So, they'll kill things for me, he thought. What else will they do? He looked around at the thick forest they were in. I used a lot of logs last night…I should probably get more, he thought, and he took out his axe and started chopping down a tree.

"Smash mean tree!" one of the pigs exclaimed, and it began punching another tree down with its hoof; its fellow did the same.

Hello, Wilson thought, pausing in his work to look. What's this?

The pigs kept punching their trees, then stopped when they noticed that Wilson had stopped, too.

Monkey see, monkey do, Wilson thought, and he resumed cutting down his own tree. As he expected, the pigs resumed as well.

Wilson managed to get three times as many logs as he would have normally with the help of his entourage - somehow, the pigs' hooves were just as effective as an axe. They were really quite useful, Wilson reflected as he packed away the last of the logs and pinecones. He had enough to last him for a couple of weeks now, unless he started using lots of wood for some reason or other, in which case he'd be able to afford to do so.

In any case, Wilson walked back into the pig village, headed for the science machine he'd made the previous evening. It made sense to set up a sort of permanent residence here, in a way - a home base, where he could keep excess supplies and build things to help him survive. He had a feeling that there was a lot more to this world than he knew, and if nothing else, the pigs around him would be helpful in a fight if more hounds - or something worse - came for him.

And then there was the pig king. Wilson approached the smelly behemoth, his eyes watering, curious. If he gave meat to regular pigs, they followed and aided him; what would happen if he fed the king?

Well, he didn't have any meat at the moment. Still…something felt significant about the enormous pig, something more than just its size. Maybe it was the flooring it sat on and the weird-looking rocks around it…The four short rocks looked more like pyramids than obelisks, and the four that really looked like obelisks also looked…strange…

Another day, Wilson thought as he returned to his science machine. It occurred to him that, if he really was planning on building a permanent home base, the first thing to do would build a more permanent light source than one of his campfires. Technically, he could burn anything flammable, but not if it was just lying on the ground by itself…

Ten minutes and twelve rocks later, Wilson had built a fire pit, in which he could ignite anything of any size without fear of it catching something nearby on fire or being blown about by the wind. This will be the epicenter of whatever sort of home base I build, Wilson thought, satisfied with his invention. Now…how many pseudo-days have I been here?

He thought for a minute, stroking his beard absentmindedly. There had been his first night, when he'd discovered his instinctive fear of the dark…the second night, at the end of which he'd built his first science machine…the third, which he had spent using the science machine…the fourth, which he'd spent on the move…the fifth, after he'd met Otto von Chesterfield…the sixth, after which the hounds had come…the seventh, after he'd dug up some graves…and the eighth, last night, when he'd finally slept. He was coming up on his ninth night since being trapped here. Accelerated time or no, it's moving fast here, Wilson reflected. I think it's safe to say at this point that I won't be finding my way home any time soon…probably not for a very long while, in fact. As of now, the best course of action is to set up a permanent settlement and not go exploring again until my shelter is at least passable.

So, I have a more permanent light source…the next thing I need is a wall.

Wilson started unpacking everything - his pockets, his backpack, and even Otto von Chesterfield. He needed to take stock of everything he had.

He had: Sixty-four logs, twenty pinecones, twenty-five sharp rocks, ten not-sharp rocks, two dozen flowers (which were starting to rot), forty bundles of twigs and thirty-one lengths of cut grass (he'd been careful to keep those two resources at a constant amount, but hadn't replenished the grass since the previous night), ten gold nuggets, five lengths of rope, two stone blocks (which he'd made by tossing not-sharp rocks in his first science machine), two wooden boards (also refined in the first science machine, from logs), five cobweb-cloths, one partially used spear, one partially used shovel, one partially used pickaxe, one barely-used small animal trap, one hammer that he had no use for at the moment but had made anyway, one hat made entirely out of grass, the eye-on-a-bone that belonged to Otto von Chesterfield, one lump of melty marbles, one handful of buttons, one handful of frazzled wires, one impossible knot on a small length of rope, and one fake kazoo. He had no food on him - he'd eaten the last of his supply the previous day, and all he could take off the bushes this morning.

A redbird fluttered past. Suddenly, one of the pigs following Wilson said, "I eat food," and started walking towards the spot the bird had taken off from.

"Oh, no you don't," Wilson said, hurrying over to see what the pig was after. What he found when he examined the ground was that somehow, some tiny green seeds, just enough to fill the palm of his hand, had been left behind when the bird had taken off. He picked them up and studied them intensely. He could find no means of figuring out what they might grow into if planted. Each one is a tiny mystery, he thought. I know I have fertilizer - Beefalo manure - about a day and a half from here…perhaps I really could start growing crops. He pocketed the seeds and returned to the resources he had scattered about on the ground. The other pig was studying the fake kazoo, nudging it with its foot and staring at it curiously.

Wilson picked up the fake kazoo. "You like this?" he asked the pig.

The pig said nothing.

"Hmm…" Wilson thought. He had no use for the trinket, himself, but…

On a sudden burst of inspiration, Wilson ran over to the pig king. Trying not to be too repulsed by the smell, he held out the fake kazoo and said to the enormous creature, "If I may make an offering to…erm…your highness…"

To his surprise, the pig king took the fake kazoo right away and stashed it away somewhere. Then, it raised its front hooves over its head and made a throwing motion, and to Wilson's alarm, six gold nuggets rained down out of nowhere around the giant pig.

He stared at the pig king. The creature gave an enormous smile and a squeal of delight, waving its arms with joy, then reassumed its sedentary pose. Cautiously, Wilson picked up the six gold nuggets, needing to use his magical pockets to bear the weight. The huge pig made no move to stop him.

Interesting, Wilson thought. So the king likes useless junk. I wonder if the rest of it would appeal to him…

Wilson put down the six new gold nuggets with his ten others, then picked up the marbles, buttons, knot, and wires, and returned to the pig king. The giant pig took all of it, and gave gold nuggets in return: four for the marbles, two for the buttons, two for the knot, and five for the wires. Wilson wondered what exactly determined how valuable one piece of junk was compared to another and why. That, though, was a mystery he'd probably never solve; for all he knew, it could be completely arbitrary. Still, it gave him reason enough to dig up the rest of the graves in the graveyard when he went back for Beefalo manure.

It was past midday by that point, and sweltering hot, especially for Wilson with his beard. He stroked it again, this time mindfully. I need to shave, he thought. He looked at his supplies, then at his science machine. That shouldn't be too difficult, should it?

He tossed some twigs and sharp rocks into his science machine and pulled the lever. Out came the materials, along with visual instructions, which he followed, resulting in what could function as a razor - though really, it was just a sharpened rock tied to a stick. How hygienic, Wilson thought cynically. All the same, he brought the blade to his face and started cutting hairs.

The razor worked surprisingly well, leaving not even the slightest hint of stubble behind. Wilson felt much better once he was clean-shaven - both more gentlemanly and less baking hot. He was also left with a handful of hairs he'd made with his face, which he could probably use at some point, somehow.

He took note of the temperature again. This is definitely a summer, Wilson thought, which all but confirms my suspicion that there will be a winter. I'll need to pay careful attention to the temperature for the next few days, or however long it takes to notice a change or pattern.

…I could build a machine to do that, couldn't I?

It was worth a shot.

It took two hours' worth of tinkering, but Wilson finally managed to get something together, using two nuggets of gold and two sets of wooden planks. By the time he was done, the two pigs he had enlisted had deserted him and returned home, presumably because he didn't have more meat for them; Wilson barely noticed. His finished invention resembled an enormous thermostat; right now, the color indicator was pushing at the very peak, past the highest measurable temperature. I'll call this a Winterometer, since it will help me determine when winter might come, Wilson thought.

He had other things to do, but for a few minutes, he just stood where he was, admiring his creation. I am one heck of a scientist, he thought proudly. He might have stood there until nightfall, were it not for the fact that it suddenly and without warning started to rain.

Wilson looked up at the sky. When did it get so cloudy? he wondered; it was very overcast, even though the Winterometer was still indicating an unmeasurably high temperature. As for the rain… Well, I should have seen that coming, Wilson thought, almost amused with himself for not anticipating the existence of weather.

Wilson had never been the sort to play in the rain; he somewhat prided himself in the way his hair grew into a shape resembling his first initial, and he didn't like anything that might ruin it. Now, however, he had no building to enter, no roof to get under, to shelter himself from the rain; he had no way of keeping from getting completely drenched as the rain started coming down harder.

Wonderful, Wilson thought miserably as dusk fell. It was positively pouring by then, and now it was getting dark, too. He didn't need to be a brilliant scientist to know that lighting and maintaining a fire was going to be a lot more difficult in the rain, but he needed the light. I haven't even started building any sort of wall around my home; all I've got is this temperature gauge.

…Could I maybe make a machine that will predict the weather for me, so that I won't be caught unprepared like this again?

Again, it was worth a shot.

Unfortunately, Wilson didn't manage to tinker his way into discovering such a design before true nightfall, the exact start of which he miscalculated due to not being able to actually see the sun. As the darkness fell, he threw a few logs into his fire pit in a panic, lighting them quickly. To his surprise, they did in fact catch fire, though they definitely weren't burning as brightly as they would have if they were dry.

Wilson maintained the fire that night with an odd composure with which he even surprised himself. Yes, it was raining, and yes, there was something in the darkness that wanted to…eat him, maybe, but he was getting settled in place and starting to build some actual structures to defy all the nature around him. That was nice.

The night lasted about an hour - nowhere near as long as it had been when Wilson had first been trapped in this fake world. That was also nice, though the rain didn't let up. Wilson resumed tinkering, and around midday, he had built a Rainometer, which would measure the severity of cloudiness for him, indicating when it might start to rain.

It wasn't until after he set it up that he realized that he still had no way of protecting himself from the rain, even if he did know when it was coming.

Oh well. He was still a brilliant scientist.

It was, if possible, even hotter than it had been the previous day; the Winterometer was still indicating a temperature far above what it could actually precisely measure. All the same, Wilson, feeling he'd wasted too much time already, picked up his shovel and his backpack, along with about half of his grass and twigs so that he could make torches to get through the night, and turned to go. He considered bringing Otto von Chesterfield, but decided against it, instead leaving the Eye Bone (which was what it was really called, he somehow knew) sitting next to its owner, so that the fuzzy creature could rest and look around, appreciating its surroundings, if it did such things. He gave Otto von Chesterfield an affectionate pat on the head before going. "Take it easy, pal," he said; "I'll be back in a couple of days."

He started to walk away, then paused, looking at all the stuff he had scattered around on the ground. It was quite a mess. I really should do something about this, he thought. I'll deal with the matter of walls later, but for now…

The solution wasn't too difficult: He tossed some wood into his science machine, and when that didn't work, he turned them into boards and then tossed them back in. It took three sets of boards, but he was quickly able to build a chest. Like all other storage containers in this fake world, it was a lot bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. It still wasn't quite enough, but he easily stored the rest of his materials inside Otto von Chesterfield.

As he packed his things away, he realized he needed to take some of the sharp rocks as well, in case his shovel broke, and his spear, in case something attacked. He also decided to bring his razor, remembering the long fur of the Beefalo, and his small animal trap, so he could catch some more of the numerous rabbits, maybe even bring some live ones home. It's a good thing I stopped to get my stuff together, he reflected as he set out again, following the paved road back in the direction he had come. He had brought his backpack, just in case the amount of junk he dug up was significant, and he'd noticed that the garland he'd made on his second night had disintegrated entirely, so he'd made himself another one, mainly just because he had no other use for the flowers he'd gathered.

He left the pig village, walked through the thick forest, and returned to the confused land. When night came, he quickly made a torch, then kept walking.