Chapter 5

At first, Wilson wasn't quite sure if he was still alive. The blue light was still there, burning into his vision. And yet something seemed wrong. Everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion. A rumble thundered around him like an earthquake, coursing through his body with each passing second. He felt flimsy, his mind stuffed with cotton. And for a moment he forgot how to move, how to breathe, the weightlessness dulling his world.

When he finally recalled how to work his lungs, he found it was difficult to do so. Something heavy was crushing down onto his chest, pressing on his aching lungs and stopping what little life he had left. He just lay there, the only thing on his mind was to stay alive, one painful breath at a time.

What had he been doing again? Confusion pressed onto his brain, Wilson trying to pick up the pieces. It was something important, something terrible that he must remember. And quick.

The beast.

He groaned as the memory hit him. Yes, he remembered now. The creature had been upon him, looming over in what seemed like mere seconds ago. It had pinned him with a wicked paw, posed to finish him off for good. And yet he was alive, if barely. That befuddled him the most, why was he still alive?

Gritting his teeth Wilson tried once again to move, learning that his neck was the only thing still responsive. He bent back his head as far as it would go, straining the muscles to their max. As he shifted he felt something light trickle down his face, something wet and cool trailing down the bridge of his nose. Or maybe it was nothing more than his imagination, and that the feeling was from inside his head, not out.

It took a moment to focus on the darkness, the blue light illuminating enough to make out it's form. Stretching away from him was the long neck of the creature, it's head twisting awkwardly on the stone. It wasn't moving, black, oozing puddling growing from the wounds in its neck. Wilson froze in fear, waiting for its white eye to open, waiting for it to lash out. But as the minutes ticked by, it remained still. One thing was clear to Wilson though; the creature had collapsed. Whether from the wounds he'd made with his axe, he didn't know. However, he knew he had to get away before it woke.

But he was pinned, the beast's torso spread out on top of him. And the claw, he could still feel it embedded in his shoulder, a strange hollow feeling that numbed his arm. He couldn't move. But the low rumbling around him told Wilson that it was still breathing. That at any moment it would awaken and realized that there was a little man underneath it. He didn't have much time.

Wilson tried to lift the thing off him, but his arms were useless. He could barely hold them up let alone push the giant thing aside. He was trapped between pounds of feather, flesh, and stone. And that wasn't changing anytime soon. He tried anyway, gripping tuffs of its feathers and attempted to push himself away. The effort only left him gasping, lightheaded and sick.

Suddenly a rippling tremor shook through him, a rumble ringing in his ears. The creature twitched, gurgling as it awoke. Slowly, sluggishly, it dragged itself up. Wonderfully the pressure lifted from Wilson's chest and he gulped in as much air as possible. It rose off him, shaking its head with a growl that Wilson felt through his bones.

Without warning the claw pinning his shoulder was ripped out of his shoulder. Sharp, burning pain so painful that Wilson literally saw stars dance across his eyes. A tremor rippled through his body and then, nothing.

####

He was confident that now he must be dead. Yet that cursed blue light returned, dull annoyance filled him when he found that he wasn't. He felt dull, feeling his life drain away through the hole in his shoulder. Even without the weight on his chest, his breath felt short and shallow. And to top it all off was the sad understanding that he had no way of surviving this wound. Not in the caves, not alone. This was finally the end of the nightmare. He just wished it wasn't taking so long.

Yet where was the beast? Surely it should have finished him off by now? Or at least starting eating him. But it was clear that it had done neither.

A scuffing sound reached his ears. It took all his strength just to turn his head to the towering mushroom, almost passing out again from the wooziness. There it was, the creature, digging around the trunk of the mushroom. At first glance, Wilson had no idea what the stupid thing was doing, until his backpack rolled into view. With the inquisitiveness of a cat, it pawed at his bag, before using its serrated beak to tear the fabric apart. Everything tumbled out onto the ground, all his basic supplies now littering the stone. With a sniff, it quickly found his most prized possession; his jerky. Quickly it ate them up with a happy gurgle.

Wilson watched on dully as it sorted through the rest of his belonging, chewing and eating almost everything. The only thing that was spared was his flint, dismissing it with a flick of its beak. Even his pickaxe was not spared, the beast snapping it apart like it was a toothpick. Once it was does with his stuff it set to work on what was left of the backpack, ripping it piece by canvas piece.

Amazingly he found he could still force out a laugh. It was like some twisted joke. Even the monster she'd sent to kill him couldn't even be bothered to finish the job. His bag was more interesting to it than him. Or maybe that's what she'd commanded it to do, leave him to die slow and painful without a quick end. It was cruel and humiliating, yet it seemed something Charlie would do.

When a quick attempt to sit up proved fruitless, he struggled to clear his throat, swallowing iron. "What," he croaked, his voice sounding nothing like his own.

"Am I… too skinny for... you, eh… not worth…your time?"

The creature stilled, turning its head towards his voice. Bits of the backpack dropped from its beck carelessly as it stared at him with one, unblinking eye. It did nothing else, not a single sound utter from it as it merely looked down at Wilson, infuriating him more.

" Come o-on you…fat chicken," he spat, wishing he could through a rock at it. "Do it."

The beast stared on, tilting it's head to one side. Abruptly the clicking echoed around the cave, its beak creating the eerie sound. With a few more final clicks it rose, stalking forward one paw at a time. It didn't hurry over to Wilson, cautiously slinking over with its head down low. To Wilson he could barely make out its form, it was nothing more than a shadow, one giant blob in the darkness.

Yet still, relief oddly filled him as it approached. To have it finished him off instead of him lying here till something else did was a comfort. It would be an end to this pain. End of the never-ending horror story he'd had fallen into since he listened to that stupid radio. Maybe Charlie was giving him a blessing in disguise.

It loomed over him, breath foul and rotted. The serrated beak was inches from his chest snuffling at the wound its claw had made. Suddenly it pressed onto the wound, Wilson crying out at the searing pain. No, it wasn't supposed to be toying with him, if it did that - Sudden panic filled Wilson. Suddenly he was afraid to die, the realization of what was happening cleared his dull mind. His price for all knowledge couldn't be this, it just couldn't. But he still couldn't move, all he could do was stare into the white, glassy eye. It was all he could see, nothing but black and white. That white eye reminded him of the shadowy monsters. Eyes that were so familiar he sudden swore he'd see them before in some long forgotten memory.

He didn't know nor see what it was doing, only that something dug under his torso agonizingly. Like knives were pricking his skin it felt like a clamp was crushing his torso, meaning only one thing. He waited for the beast to crush him in its jaws, yet instead, the world jolted violently. Up he rose, till he was suspended almost vertically. For a horrid moment, Wilson feared it was about to swallow him whole, throw him into to the air and kill him in such a horrid way. He squeezed his eyes shut as a rustling sounded, preparing for the worst. Yet suddenly the world shook violently, Wilson feeling like he'd just left his stomach and heart behind on the ground. They were in the air, the howling of the wind and drumming in his head making him squeeze his eyes tighter. Everything rushed past in a whoosh, and burning red was all Wilson could see under his eyelids. He opened his eyes, gasping.

Light.

There was suddenly warm, dawn sunlight. The world was completely wrong, upside down in a sickly way. The forest was above, the sky below and everything hurt. The image burned into his mind, impossible and awe-inspiring, seeming to last forever until the forest above rushed towards him. All to quickly the trees were on top of him, the beast landing heavily onto the dirt. His body jarred, pain sparking from the hole in his shoulder.

Gently he was turned, the world returning to normal. The jagged beak parted as he was set to the ground on his knees. His torso, however, couldn't hold his weight and crumbling forward, leaving him hunched and struggling to hold his stomach from emptying. A blast of wind almost knocked him over, the beast dashing away and nimbly jumping over the hole in the ground. At the tree line, it stopped, turning back to him.

For the first time, he saw it's form clearly. It was not black, but a dark blue. A creature that looked like it belonged more in a museum than real life. It was like some prehistoric creature, the bill of an ancient bird and the body of panther. In the sun Wilson saw it had not two wings but four, the second set beginning from its forearms sprouting long prime feathers from its elbow. A mash-up of creatures, and in that moment he remembered.

Everything came back in a torrent of memories. He remembered everything. Everything. The madness exploded back, but this time his old self surfaced too. He knew this creature, seen it long ago. He knew that form, those navy feathers, and witty, child-like behavior. Visions of Charlie, of him, of the beast, of shadowy figures, of a throne, a black throne flooded his mind. Wilson gasped and the creature stepped back towards him with a long mew, feathers puffing out. Did it remember? Could it possible remember who he was?

With all his strength and willpower Wilson raised his good arm, reaching out to it. Without warning the creature twist around, sprinting off into the woods. It left Wilson panting, the arm dropping limply to his side. But his mind was racing with the sudden idea. And the idea twitched a smile from the corner of his mouth.

"WILSON!"

The high-pitched voice jolted him, too unreal he couldn't believe he'd heard right. Twisting his neck around he spotted Willow running through the pines, bursting into the small clearing. He couldn't he help but smile. Of course, Willow would come, extremely loyal and headstrong that she was, that one. Ah, and the muscle-headed Wolfgang too, wonderful-

Everything blurred and tilted, next minute he was lying on his back, looking at the cloudy sky. Willow's face filled the place, wide-eyed and fearful as she grabbed him. But Wilson ignored her, suddenly feeling so happy. A chuckle burst from his lips and the next minute he was laughing, bubbles of laughter he found he couldn't stop.

"Wilson! Hey… Will, get ahold of yourself!" She gripped his shirt collar and tugged, trying to get him to stop. But he couldn't stop, his pain all but forgotten. She had to know what this meant! What it meant for them!

Dismissing the wound on his shoulder he grabbed her own collar and pull her eye level. " She's failed," he laughed, feeling his own raw manic in her own fearful eyes. " Don't you see, my dear, she's failed! The Queen of hearts failed at the only thing she's supposed to do! They'll be mad, very mad once they see this!"

Willow tried to pull away from his grip, but he only held on tighter. Why couldn't she see what this meant? " She's failed, the throne's still in reach. We can take the throne from the Queen! The door.. we need to find the cursed door, NOW!"

"Wo-w-Wolfgang!"

Strong hands pinned him down onto the ground, ripping his hands off Willows' neck. Neck? Hadn't he'd been holding her shirt?

"Calm down Little Man," The strongman growled, locking his arms. " You're mad again."

Wilson's laughter turned to giggles, his body growing heavy. Willow was looking down at her hand. It was crimson, crimson dripping down her forearm, from her fingers, staring at him horrorstruck.

"The..door," He muttered, suddenly he was sleepy, all the happiness draining from him. " We must… find Maxwell's door…"

His eyelids grew so heavy and he closed his eyes, floating away.