"Winnie? Oh - no, no, no, Winnie–" He practically leapt over the fire pit, grateful in hindsight that the flames had been long extinguished, or else he might have caught fire. He moved to the girl, who was wide eyed with a sickly hue to her features. That had definitely been the wrong mushroom. He grasped her shoulders, shaking her gently, trying to get her to focus on him. She blinked twice and looked up at him. Her pupils were dilated greatly, and her cheeks were pale. He'd certainly eaten a foul mushroom or two during his involuntary stay on the island, but never had he and such an immediate reaction to one before. He let out a sigh of relief. The green ones were the hallucinogens. It was lucky, even though he'd been dreadfully wrong, that he hadn't suggested the redcaps which, he was fairly sure now, we're almost certainly poisonous.

Well this was unfortunate circumstances indeed. The sun was still climbing, true, but what with such little food and Winnie absolutely intoxicated, there was no way Wilson saw them getting back to camp in one piece. He pressed the back of one hand to her forehead and sighed, sitting heavily next to her. He supposed there wasn't much to do but wait and watch over her until the effects wore off. He knew, from personal experience, that it could be rather frightening, being alone with little handle on your mental faculties. He patted her shoulder once more before he dropped his hand to the earth, leaning his weight back on it. "Alright, miss Winnie, I suppose we'll take a little rest then, you and me," he huffed.

Wilson looked down with a startled little noise to find Winnie's hand clutching like a vice at his sleeve.

"Wilson…" she whispered, her voice full of fright. "Wilson, it's looking right at us."

The urgency in her words sent a chill down his spine, and he cast his gaze to the expanse of woodlands before them. The line of trees was still quite a ways away, but he searched every inch of the landscape before them, trying to find what it was that had her so spooked. "What do you mean? Where is it?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"It's right there—right there!" she said, not daring to move a muscle as she gripped onto him. "It's right there, don't you see it?"

He gave the landscape one more sweeping look as she trembled, slowly reaching outward. "Winnie, dear, it's fine. It's–" he paused and pondered just how fully she believed whatever strange hallucination she was experiencing. "—it's not going to hurt you," he reassured her gently.

"No—no, Wilson–" She grew frantic and clambered to her feet, snatching up the axe handle that had been sticking out of the top of the nearest backpack. She brandished it wildly, holding it with both hands in front of her as she braced herself.

He quite suddenly didn't know what to do. He'd thought perhaps they might be able to just wait it out, but now she was brandishing a weapon, clearly not in her right mind as she threatened some invisible monster that existed only in her mind. He rocketed to his feet as well, taking several stumbling steps backwards as he removed himself from the range of her weapon. "Winnie! Please, just put the axe down! Nothing's going to hurt us, there's nothing there!" he said, gesturing widely towards the empty expanse of forest that she was so warily watching.

His voice was loud in her ears, but she wasn't really hearing him. Her heart beat heavily against her ribs as she adjusted her grip on the handle of the axe. She knew Wilson was trying to coax her to put the weapon down, but she'd heard his stories about the creatures who lurked in the dark – she'd squared off against enough creatures in the forest: spiders and hounds and tall birds that would chase them for miles. She wasn't about to let this thing, this creeping, crawling creature of shadow, come any closer.

It scuttled forward on numerous legs, its form hulking and threatening, but uncertain as it shimmered in and out of her vision, even as she looked straight at it. The whole creature shifted, growing taller and slimmer as it opened its mouth to reveal jaws lined with sharp, jagged teeth.

Wilson shouted, jumping out of the way as Winnie swung the axe, a swift schk! cutting through the air as she hit nothing. "Winnie! Winnie stop! You're going to hurt someone!" he said, coming carefully up behind her and grabbing her arm before she could make the second swing.

"What are you doing?" She struggled, trying to swing again, or throw him off, or reach the axe he held suspended in her hand above her head – anything! But he held her fast, wrestling the weapon from her and holding it high above his head. He was a fair bit taller than she was, and even as she jumped and nearly climbed the man trying to get her weapon back, it still remained safely out of her reach. "Wilson this is madness, please! Please, give it back! It's right there–!"

"You're absolutely right about it being madness, now please! I can assure you that there's nothing threatening either of us right now. Whatever you see—hrrf–" he tossed the weapon aside, and grabbed her around the waist when she tried to dive to it, holding her fast and adjusting his grip on her, one hand at each shoulder as he straightened the both of them, doing his best to keep her gaze on him instead of the imaginary beasts she was fighting. "—whatever you see, it's not real. It's just your imagination, Winnie, please, look at me!"

She slowed, still rather startled as he finally seemed to be gaining some control over this situation. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, talking to her in a soft, quiet voice rather than raising it again. "Okay. That's better. Now listen carefully. Whatever you see out there, whatever it's doing, it's not going to do anything to us, okay?" he asked; she nodded, her eyes still wide, pupils dilated. He noticed her gaze travelling over his shoulder, and gave her another little shake. "Look! Pay attention, Winnie. We're going to stay here, okay? We're going to stay here until you feel better, and then we're going to go back to camp, any nothing is going to attack us." He knew that was a promise he couldn't really keep – he knew that at any moment, hounds could start tracking them, or one of those terrible giants could come stumbling across them. But as far as the creatures she was seeing, he was certain in his reassurances.

She nodded once more, taking a deep breath and focusing on him as best she could despite the way her vision had begun tunneling, getting wobbly at its edges, tinged with red as she couldn't help but see the shadow creature lurking, creeping closer just behind Wilson.

He lost her attention completely, and he could only imagine the things she was seeing, what horrifying monsters were manifesting themselves in her mind.

"Winnie, focus on–"

"Look out!" she nearly screamed, and even though his grip on her shoulders was firm, she lashed out, shoving him hard and sharp in the chest. It broke his grip on her, and he stumbled back before losing his footing, hitting the grass hard.

Winnie dove for the axe, and in the split second that it took Wilson to pick himself up again and gain his bearings, ready to wrestle the axe from her a second time – preferably without losing any limbs – he watched in stark horror as she was tugged down from her leap, hitting the ground hard before she was dragged several feet.

Wilson stood in shock for a moment as she screamed, kicking once before scrambling to her feet. It was an automatic reaction, to arm himself. He didn't want to, but he had to entertain the idea that maybe Winnie really had saw something. Maybe there was something dangerous there, and if that were the case, she needed help.

"Up!" she screeched, clutching her arm as she struggled to her feet.

It took a moment for him to register that she was calling instructions. He angled his blow at the last moment, and though he didn't feel anything but the momentum of an uninterrupted swing of the heavy weapon, she cheered. He supposed he'd hit something!

He couldn't see, feel, or hear anything, but Winnie assured him he'd hit it. She picked up the pick that had been dropped unceremoniously at the edge of the camp fire when Wilson had abandoned his work the night before. With her uninjured arm, she swung wildly, and the scientist had to duck just to avoid being clipped by her ferocious attack.

She watched with the last strike as the creature screeched, disappearing into the ground once more as it separated, receding into the shadows as no more than disjointed wisps of darkness.

She breathed heavily, the thing having fled or died, she wasn't sure which, but Gods it was a weight off her chest. The tinge of red slowly faded from the corners of her vision, and she blinked up at Wilson, swallowing thickly. "Believe me yet?"

It was a heavy sentence, one that suggested she meant more than just about the invisible creature they'd just fought and, he was fairly certain, defeated. He could spend quite a bit of time dwelling over the meaning of her words, and in the coming days, would, but for the moment, the looming concern of her injury drowned out all other worries. "Winnie—your arm…"

She took a deep breath, gripping at her shoulder with white knuckles. She looked down, examining the damage. There were four very neat wounds – three below her elbow and one above it, each round and ugly and bleeding terribly, the blood dripping down and pattering against the grass.

"It—it looks like something bit you!" He sounded shocked as he gingerly lifted her arm to examine the injury. Indeed, it looked like a bite mark, like a hound's but larger somehow.

"It did bite me!" she said solidly. "I told you it was coming! Ah—don't do that!" she hissed, as he poked and prodded. There was something unusual about the skin surrounding the wound. It was discolored, grey and flecked with an almost indiscernible black. The veins visible under her skin seemed darkened. He was a bit surprised when she tugged her arm back away from him. That's right. It must have hurt something awful.

"R-right. Let me just…" he held up a hand, gesturing for her to give him a moment, before rummaging through the backpacks again. "Ah… Winnie… you- you packed the poultice, didn't you?"

There was a beat.

"Didn't you?"

Ah.

Well.

"Okay! No problem! Not a problem at all!" he said, standing straight and giving her one more look. "Oh, goodness you are… bleeding, a lot, aren't you?" he cleared his throat.

Alright, Higgsbury: time to think on your feet.

He was an inventor! Thinking on his feet and being resourceful was what he did best!

Winnie sat heavily at the fireside, undoing the clasp of her cloak with one hand, casting it aside. She was rather cold, but she didn't want to get blood on her cloak, ruining it further. "Hand me that bag," she said, gesturing vaguely as she held a hand out for the strap he handed her. She reached in with decisive movements, pulling forth her book and laying it open in her lap as she cast the backpack aside as well.

She flipped paged idly, as if she were sitting at home with a cup of tea and a good book instead of bleeding out in the middle of the forest. Her eyes scanned the page, sharp and intelligent despite the still-dilated pupils and the blur at the edges of her vision. She could barely see Wilson out of her peripherals, and she let the sight of him ground her as she looked for what she needed.

He wrung his hands nervously as she thumbed calmly through her book. After a moment, she looked up at him. "I need you to do something for me, Wilson," she said, her voice measured as she turned the book towards him.

He rounded the camp fire slowly, unsure whether or not it was okay for him to approach her and her book. After all this time out there, how closely she guarded it, he was perhaps a little hesitant to. But she was looking up at him expectantly, and he knelt down by her, looking to her once more for confirmation before he looked down at the book.

It was entirely hand written, everything from the header to the body to the illustrations peppered across the two pages she displayed for him. So he'd been right! She'd written everything in this book on her own! It was entirely hand-crafted, from the contents to the bindings, and he wondered how she'd learned such impeccable craftsmanship.

But what he seemed to be wrong about, however, was the contents. He'd thought this book had been some kind of scientific journal, not unlike the ones he kept at home for recording his experiments and inventions. They were full of scribbled handwritten entries and illustrations and diagrams, all like her book.

The only difference was that hers seemed to be a cook book.

Indeed, the page seemed to be a recipe of sorts – but not for any foodstuffs that Wilson had ever seen. The ingredients were peculiar, at best: a single nut from a birch tree, ashes from a spent fire, the tanned skin of a mole…?

"What is this?" he asked, gently taking the book from her lap as she tried not to drip on it.

"It's a spell. I'm a witch," she said solidly. "I know you think it's childish, or make believe, but please–"

"A – I'm sorry, a witch? Like, Double Double, Toil and Trouble, broomsticks and black cauldrons? A witch? Winnie that's–"

"Wilson," she cut across him. "Please. I need your help to put it together."

He looked down at her for a moment, then to her arm, torn and bloody and leaving a small puddle on the ground below her. He close the book with a little bang and tucked it beneath his arm before frowning and removing his old, worn leather belt. He moved to her, fastening it on her upper arm like a tourniquet, before nodding.

He thought this terribly silly, but it was clear it meant a lot to her that he do this. He needed to leave their camp, anyway, to search for something, anything that might stem the flow, that might help her heal. He remembered he honey poultice she'd made, the strange mix of powders she'd added to the bandage before dressing his own wounds when the tentacles had caught him. He remembered how fast it had healed. He might not have known her scientific reasoning behind that little concoction, or the properties behind its healing value, but he knew that it worked.

He still thought magic no more than smoke and mirrors as the gullible general public would believe anything, but there was the chance that Winnie was right about whatever strange brew she intended to make. She'd been right about the creature, after all, even if he hadn't seen it.

So it was up to him, now, to fetch her the things she needed.

"I'll be back before sundown."