"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Webber questioned, completely scared. Walter had invited the spider boy to a camping night, and they would be completely distant and isolated from the rest of the group.
"No." Answered Walter, he was not as frightened as Webber, but was undeniably worried. "But we need to try, and we need the courage to do that!"
"I doubt he'll allow it." Webber replied, looking at Wilson, who was sitting on a wooden log, while smoking and drinking the scans, all present at the camp sobbed with smoke.
"We won't know until we try!" Said Walter, trying to collect the little courage he had left, as much as he was a little worried, he didn't want to make it apparent. "And also, he doesn't even need to know!"
The two young men are beginning to approach the tyrant. The spider boy still trembled with fear, Walter, despite being known to be quite dangerous, could not hide that Wilson also scared him deeply ...
"It's going to kill..." Newton could not finish speaking, had been interrupted by his own cough. "You..."
"Be quiet!" Wilson said, removing his cigar and blowing smoke toward Willow, increasing the cough of the poor pyromaniac.
"If you want to die clogged with smoke, feel free!" Dalton replied, with his fingers on his nose. "But do me the favor of dying alone, dragon!"
In response, Wilson just exuded more smoke, tormenting the survivors even more, he didn't really care at all for their state.
"How annoying that is!" He exclaimed the clumsy, distancing himself from the tyrant, could no longer stand it.
"Mister Wilson..." Said Walter, as he approached.
"Say what you want, kid." Wilson replied, interrupting the boy harshly, while putting the cigar back in his mouth.
"We can..."
"No." The tyrant responded, without giving Walter the opportunity to pronounce his request.
"What?! But I didn't even say..."
"No." He said again, interrupting the poor boy once again. "I don't intend to repeat myself again."
"Wilson, don't be so rude!" Said Newton, approaching, shaking the smoke.
"We have done all the tasks you have asked of us, and we have fulfilled the requested quota!" Walter protested. "All we want is to camp a night out!"
"You have done no more than your obligation." Said the tyrant, in a dry tone, this classic phrase annoyed anyone.
"You look like our father now." Commented Newton, shaking his head negatively, he was completely disappointed by his brother's lack of consideration and cordiality. "And you grew up saying you'd be better than him, in terms of how to treat your children."
"Don't you dreeat me with that man, Newton..." Wilson replied, casting a stern glance at his brother.
"Oh, but Newton's right!" Dalton arrived, still capping his nose because of the horrible smoke that surrounded the scientist.
"You don't know what you're talking about..." He said, putting the cigar in his mouth one more time, and then dropping another pile of smoke through his mouth. "I'm never going to be like that asshole."
"I never thought I'd say this in my whole life, but although I don't know your father, I suppose you're right..." Said Willow, while playing with a tree branch.
"What?" Dalton questioned, completely perplexed, as did the rest of the camp. Willow was known to be one of the most discordant members of the group and hated Wilson, the same, had not outlined a reaction even, however small, of the comment of the pyromaniac, who had impressed everyone else who was present.
"You're much worse than him." Added Willow, with a clear tone of anger in her voice.
"Ah, but of course! I'm flattered, you see!" Said Wilson, clearly being sarcastic by his tone of voice and expression.
"Children, I'm sorry." Said Wickerbottom, approaching both. "But unfortunately in this world, it's not simply, no. What's more, you should enjoy the few free hours you have to study or sleep! Today, I will teach you the Pitagoras Theorem!"
"But why do we have to learn that?" You questioned Webber, upset. Despite loving studying, the spider boy was still very upset about not being able to camp, and if he couldn't do it, why waste his time studying, when he could do anything else fun? "Am I going to wear this in life?"
"W-Well, it's not about using in life, it's about exercising the brain!" Dalton explained. "Of course we won't remember forever all the minimal things we learned at school, but it all helps us train our minds, as boring as it is for many..." He said, pointing his head lightly in the direction of the tyrant.
"School is for idiots, Dalton." Said Wilson, turning to his friend. "I got tired of telling you that when we were kids! My biggest wish was to get out of there, because the only thing I did there was to sit in a chair for hours, listening to things I already knew!"
Dalton breathed a long sigh, already knew that arguing about it would not result in anything at all, since that same discussion had already repeated thousands, no, millions of times in the past, Wilson's thinking has not changed in all this time, definitely would not change now.
"No matter how much I protested, saying I didn't need school, none of it was in my parents' diminutive mind!" The tyrant said, while squeaky his teeth. "I say and I repeat, the school is not a place for intelligent people, it is for idiots! And that's why I think most of you should go back there!"
Wilson then got up, and to everyone's surprise, he bit his cigar, and began to chew it, causing Dalton and Newton to widen their eyes, the scene left them perplexed and horrified. "Chewing the cigar is much better than smoking it!" He commented.
"Crazy..." Said Willow, with a tone involving disgust. It was amazing how that asshole hadn't died, considering everything he did.
"Well, I'm going to torment the no-brainer magician and the idiot lumberjack Wilson said, moving away from the group as he walked toward the woods." So try to get back to work while I have a little fun..."
"What's your problem anyway?" Willow questioned, breaking the branch he was holding. "Maxwell and Woodie are surviving on their own, and have not yet shown any indication that they will try to kill you! Why don't you leave them alone?"
"After all the times they've tried to kill me, do you really think I'm going to trust that there won't be another attempt?" The tyrant asked, soon replying to himself. "Of course not!"
Wilson then disappeared through the darkness of the forest, while Willow held and squeezed what had been left of the branch with force and fury, as if it were the tyrant's neck. "I wanted to kill him so badly!"
Newton coughed a little and approached the pyromaniac. "My dear lady, I would like to ask forgiveness for my brother's behavior! He used to be a courteous and gallant gentleman, I don't know what happened to make him so rude and hostile."
"Maybe he's always been this asshole we currently know, who just lied about being a gentleman." Willow suggested, as she tacavated the remains of the branch, which was now practically sprayed, away.
"Impossible!" Newton protested. "I know my brother, and I can tell you that he used to be a noble man indeed!" The scientist then approached Willow and held her hand, wrapping her with his other hand. "But I also promise you that this whole nightmare will soon end!"
"Trust me." Newton gave him a big, gentle smile as he kissed the hand he held.
The pyromaniac snare her eyes a little, but quickly withdrew her hand from Newton's reach, who seemed to have become a little disoriented by the gesture.
"I'm sorry, Newton." She said, rubbing her hand. "But I'm still enraged with your brother, and his slight resemblance to him gives me a certain urge to punch his face. So for your own good, don't try to gain intimacy."
Dalton put his hand over his mouth, his eyes were a little wide. He looked to the side for a moment, still with his hand in his mouth.
"What's up?" Newton questioned, who had noticed his friend's movements.
"Nothing, nothing..." The clumsy responded, removing his hand from his mouth, and showing a big smile on his face. "I was just thinking about something..."
"Okay, so...?" Said Newton, a little confused, certainly had something strange there.
"I suppose we should get back to our to-do soon." Warly remarked, showing all his concern in his tone of voice as he stirred dinner. "Or we can make that asshole angry, and that's just the last thing we need..."
As soon as Warly said this, everyone walked toward the chests where the tools, pickaxes, axes, scythes, among other things were located. Dalton was horrified to see Wendy, as well as Walter and Webber, holding those things, which he said should only be handled by an adult.
"I refuse to believe that Wilson has exploited these children so long with manual labor!" Said Dalton, hitting his foot on the ground. His tone demonstrated how enraged and disgusted he was.
"You better believe it!" Exclaimed the pyromaniac, also picking up her tools, she was already well accustomed to the rotten acts and rules of the tyrant, even dediating him. "This is the friend you knew so much..."
"He would never do that..." Said Newton, soon coming close to the clumsy. "He seems like a completely different person now..."
"The truth needs to be told, especially if it's morbid." Said Wendy, in her usual dead tone, as she turned to look at the two scientists. "Sometimes I wish to drill some wounds in it..."
The desolate said this as she lifted her axe, and obsserated her reflection on the tool's shiny, sharp blade, and her tone seemed to have become more menacing, gloomy, and morbid. It was like she wanted to have a slaughter right there...
Dalton, upon noticing this, wide-eyed as he could, he seemed to be quite frightened by Wendy's comment, and the empty look she threw at the axe blade...
But he quickly recomposed and frowned as he approached the little girl. "No, you won't hold these axes!" He said, while redrawing the power, the tool from Wendy's hands. "And you won't drill wounds in anyone!" He said, his tone was genuinely imperative and serious.
"Are you sure you're going to defy your buddy's orders?" Willow questioned.
"It doesn't matter, it's wrong!" Soon answered the clumsy, still serious, while also taking the tools of Walter and Webber. He didn't care if Wilson would get mad, but he wouldn't let these kids work as slaves because of the tyrant.
"I'm used to axes." Said Wendy, with the same dead tone. "Give it back to me." The tone had again changed, and showed that she was not asking, she was ordering.
Dalton didn't stop popping his eyes once more, he was blown away, and seemed to be genuinely scared once again, because he began to take a few steps back, moving away from the girl. However, he inspired and breathed deeply, and frowned once more. "No, no, no, This will stay with me, and I don't want to see you holding an axe until you're old enough!"
"The scientist will be angry..." The girl said and kept trying to get the axe, but Dalton stopped her, refused to allow something like this.
"Let him stay!" He exclaimed, without even thinking twice, since the tyrant was not around.
"Be realistic, Dalton." Said Willow. "You're completely skinny, and even though Woodie and Wolfgang have a strong physique, they haven't even been able to stand up to the asshole you call your friend."
Dalton snooze. "Mental and brain power, as well as natural intelligence, are much more powerful than strong muscle mass, Willow! I'm almost as smart as he is!"
"What about you..." He then pointed to Wickerbottom, the librarian. "I will also not allow you to hold an axe, or a pickaxe, or any other tool! You should be seated in a comfortable armchair, near a warm fireplace, enjoying a good tea or hot chocolate, being treated and respected as the queen she is! I will not allow you to do this manual labor!"
"Oh, my dear..." The librarian said she was flattered to hear Dalton's words. "As much as I'd like that, it's not necessary, I can still work."
"Still can, however, should not!" Said Dalton, with his index finger pointed up. "I ask you to sit down! The rest of you, unfortunately, will have to work to avoid greater stress and uncontroly of Wilson!"
"I think he's going to get stressed out anyway..." Said Newton, next to the clumsy.
"Well, I don't care, when I see something wrong like that I can't stand still!" Dalton said, surprisingly confident, the question was whether he would continue like this when he heard the tyrant's fury.
"Newton, you're going to stay here, taking care of the kids and Mrs Wickerbottom!" The clumsy then pointed at the tyrant's brother. "And you..." He then turned around so he could point and look at Wendy. "You're coming with me, for your first psychology session starts right now!"
And then, while the others worked, Dalton and Wendy walked away from the group, the girl being especially discouraged compared to the clumsy one.
"Well, children..." Said Wickerbottom, with a smile on his face. "I think we should take advantage of this free time to study!"
Walter and Webber just sighed, with the spare time, they would rather play than study, but apparently there would be no other choice. Wickerbottom lives them telling them that classes were necessary, for she, like any other survivor, did not know when they would leave Constant and return to their old world. So they couldn't risk losing school supplies so they wouldn't be late and confused when they were introduced into their own school year at their age.
Wilson approached the magician's camp and the lumberjack's camp, and everything seemed to be perfectly in order. Logs so they could sit down, a Fire Pit, two Crockpots and some chests. The camp was installed near some berry bushes. Not bad! Not bad at all!
However, the tyrant smiled broadly. "Pathetic!" He said, with his forehead hand, as he shook his head negatively, in a gesture of disapproval. "What a horrible camp!"
He then approached the two Crockpots, and when he opened them, found delicious and inviting Meat Balls and a Meaty Stew, the steam they released and their temperature indicated that they had finished baking just seconds ago, a fact that leaves Wilson mouthwatering.
"What a delight! It would be idiocy worthy of Maxwell not to collect these beautiful meals!" Wilson said, removing the Crockpoats' food and putting it on two plates, which he had brought in his backpack. "However, I will be kind enough to replace these wonderful gifts with another delicious dish!"
The tyrant collected some dirt and mud, wood bark and cobwebs, as well as some small arthropods, and cast them into the Croackpoats. "Now it's missing, the main ingredients..." Wilson said, looking at a herd of Beefalos, which was nearby.
The tyrant rubbed his hands malevolently, like a cartoon villain, while walking to animals, I think it's possible to imagine what was the disgusting idea the scientist had planned.
After he collected the last ingredients, he not only dumped them in the Croackpots, but also rubbed them on him, both inside and out. "And now, the icing on the cake!" He said, knocking over the remains of his smoke in the monstrosities he had created.
"And now, why not collect the materials that the two assholes so generous, so generously left behind?" Wilson said, opening the chests that belonged to Maxwell and Woodie, and taking everything he found inside them, and depositing them in his Piggyback. As there were many materials, the tyrant shook the Eyebone, which caught the attention of the always happy, Chester, who quickly came running toward anyone who called him.
Wilson put some materials in the little monster's mouth, but he felt a deep urge to spit them out and vomit them out. The tyrant didn't have the good habit of washing his hands, and the horrible smell and horrible taste made it difficult for Chester to keep those things inside him.
"If you throw up, I'll shove it all down your stomach!" Wilson said, in a threatening tone. "Now let's go! We've wasted enough time..."
The tyrant, and his poor monster companion, began to move away from the camp, while far away, two men cut down trees and collected wood...
Maxwell and Woodie, who were completely unaware of the humiliation they had suffered, kept a good countenance on their faces, despite all the difficulty they had endured in those days. The lumberjack whistled cheerfully, that day, not even the birds were bothering, already the magician, sang a song he knew, in the rhythm of Woodie's whistle.
The magician sang:
Lavoratori a voi diretto è il canto
di questa mia canzon che sa di pianto
e che ricorda un baldo giovin forte
che per amor di voi sfidò la morte.
A te Caserio ardea nella pupilla
delle vendette umane la scintilla
ed alla plebe che lavora e geme
donasti ogni tuo affetto ogni tua speme.
Eri nello splendore della vita
e non vedesti che lotta infinita
la notte dei dolori e della fame
che incombe sull'immenso uman carname.
E ti levasti in atto di dolore
d'ignoti strazi altier vendicatore
e ti avventasti tu sì buono e mite
a scuoter l'alme schiave ed avvilite.
Tremarono i potenti all'atto fiero
e nuove insidie tesero al pensiero
ma il popolo a cui l'anima donasti
non ti comprese, eppur tu non piegasti.
E i tuoi vent'anni una feral mattina
gettasti al vento dalla ghigliottina
e al mondo vil la tua grand'alma pia
alto gridando: Viva l'anarchia!
Ma il dì s'appressa o bel ghigliottinato
che il tuo nome verrà purificato
quando sacre saran le vite umane
e diritto d'ognun la scienza e il pane.
Dormi, Caserio, entro la fredda terra
donde ruggire udrai la final guerra
la gran battaglia contro gli oppressori
la pugna tra sfruttati e sfruttatori.
Voi che la vita e l'avvenir fatale
offriste su l'altar dell'ideale
o falangi di morti sul lavoro
vittime de l'altrui ozio e dell'oro,
Martiri ignoti o schiera benedetta
già spunta il giorno della gran vendetta
della giustizia già si leva il sole
il popolo tiranni più non vuole.
Life was really better without the tyrant around, even though it was in hell that is Constant. Obviously it was more difficult to collect materials and survive in general with the smallest numbers, and as much as they would hate to admit it, they both knew that Wilson's strength was very useful in this place, but even so, they didn't miss the scientist at all.
"It's a beautiful song you're singing, mate!" Said Woodie, turning to look at Maxwell. The lumberjack had a big smile on his face. "But I couldn't understand a follow word!"
"Basically..." The magician turned to look at his companion. "It is an Italian composition, called La ballata di Sante Caserio, written in the year 1900, by Pietro Gori, an anarchist." He explained. "The song pays tribute to a man named Sante Geronimo Caserio, who became known for being the orchestrator of the assassination of Sadi Carnot, who used to be the president of France until his death on June 24, 1894. The murder was an affront to the employer exploitation that the workers were suffering, in addition to serving to avenge Ravachol, Auguste Vaillant and Émile Henry, notorious anarchists, who had been murdered."
"A-Ah... I understood..." Said the lumberjack, without having understood a single thing, it was quite clear that he had been overwhelmed with all the information.
"And this song seems to match perfectly with the situation we live in Constant..." Said Maxwell, frowning, and sticking his axe into the tree he was cutting. "Delle vendette umane la scintilla, ed alla plebe che lavora e moans, means - The spark of human vengeance and the commoners who work and groan. - "
"Eri nello splendore della vita, e non vedesti che lotta infinita, la notte dei dolori e della fame, che incombe sull'immenso uman carname, mean - You were in the splendor of life, and you saw nothing but an endless struggle, the night of pain and hunger, which hangs over the immense human flesh. -" Continued the magician, his tone of voice became ever darker and bitter.
"D'ignoti strazi altier vendicatore, e ti avventasti tu sì buono e mite, a scuoter l'alme schiave ed avvilite. Tremarono i potenti all'atto fiero, e nuove insidie tesero al pensiero, ma il popolo a cui l'anima donasti, non ti comprese, eppur tu non piegasti, mean - Stifying arrogant, and you launched yourself so well and meek, to shake the enslaved and degraded souls. The powerful shuddered at the act of pride, and new traps arose with thought, but the people to whom you gave your soul, he did not understand it, but you did not bow. -" The tone of the magician had again changed, seemed to have been filled with joy and pride, which transceined in a big smile, he seemed to compare to the acclaimed hero that the music portrayed.
"La gran battaglia contro gli oppressori, la pugna tra sfruttati e sfruttatori. Voi che la vita e l'avvenir fatale, offriste su l'altar dell'ideale, o falangi di morti sul lavoro, vittime de l'altrui ozio e dell'oro. Martiri ignoti o schiera benedetta, già spunta il giorno della gran vendetta,della giustizia già si leva il sole, mean - The great battle against the oppressors, the struggle between exploited and exploited. You that life and the fatal future, offered on the altar of the ideal, or phalanges of deaths at work, victims of the leisure and gold of others, unknown martyrs or blessed host, the day of great vengeance is already dawning, the sun is already rising from justice..." Maxwell said, with his smile only rising, as he put his hand on the handle of his axe, pulling him out of the tree. "E, il popolo tiranni più non vuole..."
The magician then raised his axe to the top, in a gesture of pride accompanied by a proud pose. "The people don't want any more tyrants!" He exclaimed, in a loud tone of voice, as if all constant heard him.
The lumberjack smiled, a smile accompanied by a slight laugh. "Well, mate, now that you put that in pespectiva, it really seems like a good song! I suppose we..."
Woodie could not finish his sentence, a strange noise had interrupted him. "Did you hear that?" He questioned Maxwell, looking back and side, raising his axe in all directions.
The lumberjack just laughed. "I'm sorry, buddy! This was just my stomach! I'm starving!"
"Oh, we should be back soon then, we have fresh food at camp waiting for us!" Said the magician, leaning his axe on his shoulder, becoming more relaxed after the lumberjack's clarification.
"Whoever comes in last is the frog's wife!" Said Woodie, in a joyous tone of voice, as he began to run.
"Hey, easy there!" Maxwell was taken by surprise, did not expect that the lumberjack would run out so suddenly, but soon went after him, after all, was also beginning to get hungry.
When they arrived at their camp, nothing seemed to be out of place, according to the two survivors, who did not even suspect the unpleasant events that had occurred little...
"Finally..." Said Woodie, with great charisma, approached his Crock poat, while exuding a snarbe. "There is nothing more rewarding and pleasurable than enjoying a tasty and inviting meal after a long, hard day's work." The lumberjack then closed his eyes and placed his hand on the lid of the container, he would first taste the smell of his meal.
"I look forward to smelling the delicious smell of meat!" The lumberjack then removed the lid, and smelled the air that the contents present in the Crock poat exuded...
And what he felt, rather than the long-awaited smell of his delicious meal, was a terrible odor that seemed to come straight from a sewer, completely disgusting, Woodie could barely get close, so much so that he quickly walked away as he shook the air in front of his face in despair.
"What a stench of shit!" He exclaimed, with a very nasal tone in his voice, as he was capping his nose.
"What? What do you mean?" Then Maxwell asked, was he surprised, had the food spoiled? No, it couldn't have happened in such a short time... Well, he needed to check, so he soon walked to the container.
The magician removed the lid from Crock Poat, just wide-eyed as he could. "But what..." He was so horrified, confused and outraged by what he was seeing, that he couldn't even find the strength to finish talking. He didn't know what to say, what to do, he just felt the pain that that vision gave him...
Grass, dirt, mud, webs, some little arthropods, beefalos hair. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, Is this feces?" Maxwell questioned, while screaming. He found himself in a mixture of confusion, indignation and pure fury.
"Where's the food?" He exclaimed, taking a peek at what was supposed to be his meal. "What the hell is that?" He said, seeing better what was inside the container.
"But wait, what the hell do we have here?" The magician had noticed something peculiar at the center of that disgusting, smelly trousseau...
Remnants of smoke. Someone with a cigar had come through here...
"Look at this..." Maxwell said, showing the traces. "Someone who likes to smoke has been around! Well, I like to smoke a lot, however, I would never use cigar ash as ingredients for my meal!"
Upon hearing this, the lumberjack was upset with physiognomy, his teeth crease, and his eyes lit up in flames as he pressed his fists with all his might. "That idiot! I'm going to kill him!"
"Calm down, my dear." Said the magician, in a tone until very calm, though serious. "I am also as angry as you, could hang him at this very moment! But we're not going to get anything by trying to face him again, unfortunately..."
"Oh, but we can't afford that!" Woodie exclaimed, angry. "Are we going to let him torment us without getting revenge?"
"We still have no materials, no equipment, no weapons to face it conviniously!" Maxwell replied. "I have to look on the positive side, it could have been much worse! He could have completely destroyed our camp, and instead just ruined our meals and our appetite! And speaking of materials, let's check them out for a moment."
The magician calmly walked to the chest, and the lumberjack followed him. Maxwell was convinced that the worst had passed, but he was startled to see that where there used to be countless materials, there was nothing left! Everything was completely gone!
"You've got to be kidding me!" He screamed, hitting his foot on the ground. He was starting to get as enraged and out of control as Woodie now. "Damn it!"
"As if it wasn't enough to have stolen our food, he also stole our materials and tools! And now, because of him, we're going to have to collect everything again!" Woodie yelled, crossing his arms.
"Let it be then." Maxwell replied, rubbing his face with his fingers, also trying to contain his fury, his willingness to go to the tyrant's camp and sing him until he is left unaware, and then kills him. "It's safer than trying to recover by instilling that asshole's camp!"
"What the hell!" Woodie exclameid, furious, as he kicked a rock away, taking his anger out.
"Tsc..." As much as the magician tried to hide, he was clearly very angry with Wilson, but he needed to control himself, at least for now.
"This place is perfect." Dalton said, finding a field full of flowers, there was no sign of monsters or anything else dangerous at the scene. Wendy kept following him, still unmotivated.
"Well, now sit down!" The clumsy one had a big smile on his face, he was very excited, constantly tapping his pen on paper that was attached to his clipboard. Wendy sighed and writhed in dismay, however, she did not hesitate to obey.
"Let's start with the presentations..." He said, also sitting on the floor. "I am Dr. Dalton, Dalton Edwards Stafford, at your service!" He said, bowing. "And you, your name is..."
"Wendy Carter." She answered, unceremoniously.
"How old are you?" The clumsy one questioned him, with a docile tone of voice.
The girl looked down, trying to formulate some answer. "I don't know, I completely lost sight of time when I came into this miserable world, my birthday must have passed, or even passed several times, so I don't know how to determine my age. The only one who still knows the year, the month and even the day we're on is your lyric friend. However, when I ask him about these things, he tells me roughly to get back to work."
Dalton was a little scared by this response, the survivors had been in this place for so long that they had completely lost their sense of it, it was terrible. "... Well, remember how old you were when you came in here?" He asked the clumsy, still in a gentle and friendly tone.
"No." Wendy replied, in her usual dry, dead tone, without wasting time with rodeos.
"Oh, I think we can skip that part then..." Dalton said, surprised that even the girl remembered that.
"Let me know your level of education." The clumsy one then asked, afraid that not even that she could answer.
"Primary." Wendy replied, which made Dalton sigh ingly.
"Do you have any religion?" He questioned.
"I have an interest in spiritualism and occultism." Answered Wendy, his tone of voice no longer seemed as dead as before. "Occasionally, I try to communicate with those whose physical bodies are mere empty shells..."
"All right." Dalton replied, finally getting some progress. "Could you tell me when you acquired these interests?"
The girl looked down for a while, and answered nothing. Her momentary comfort had passed, again, she was discouraged to continue with that interview.
The clumsy sighed, and said with a calm but clearly worried tone of voice. "Wendy, please answer my questions willingly, put and keep in your mind the fact that I just want to help you!"
She hasn't answered yet. Dalton sighed once more and rubbed his eyes. "My little one, I won't be able to help you if you don't allow us to establish a doctor-patient relationship, in which trust in each other is vital to problem solving! But if you don't want me to help you, just talk..."
Some more time passed, until the little girl again looked at her psychologist, and sighing, replied, "When my twin sister, Abigail, died."
A sadness quickly flooded him completely. So young, and already having to deal with intense emotional stresses, such as the death of her sister, and without a shadow of a doubt, Wilson's tyranny and her constant demands only aggravated the stress that poor little Wendy was forced to face. "I... I don't even know what to say! I'm sorry, Wendy."
"All right." Said the girl, clearly it was not all right, Dalton easily realized it, but she struggled not to show any emotion. "It's been a long time."
"Well, how could you describe the habient of your house?" He was still a little disturbed by the issue of Abigail's death, however, tried to focus on the interview.
"It was comfortable and pleasant." Wendy replied, bluntly. "However, sometimes I came to regard him as monotonous, repetitive and superficial, living in that house became uninteresting, and sometimes my only comfort and companionship was my sister, Abigail."
"I understand..." Said the clumsy, with his hand on the chin, thoughtful, it seems that Wendy had a strong connection with her sister, it must have been tragic to lose someone so important being so young, certainly it was something that seriously affected the poor girl, Dalton needed to work on it.
"And please quote the family members who lived with you! Father, mother, brothers and sisters, etc..." He said.
"I lived only with my mother and father, and I only had Abigail as a sister."
"What were the names of your father and mother?"
"My father's name was Jack Carter." She answered. "And my mother..."
She was in complete silence for a while, looking back and personal, as if making a great mental effort so she could remember her own mother's name, did she not even remember this? The possibility left Dalton astonily and extremely concerned.
"I don't remember." Wendy finally replied, lowering her head and letting out a long sigh.
"Oh..." Even though he was already thinking about this possibility, Dalton was still surprised once again by the girl's response. Would it be another consequence of time spent in this hell or was there any other reason?
"I can only assume that she looked like me and Abigail, and I also suppose she had yellow eyes." She said, while playing with her fingers. "Since I was picked up by the group, your friend has been quite harsh on me, just as he has been with anyone else. He gives us so many orders, that most of the time I live my unhappy and vain life, I can't be distracted and I can't think or remember anything that doesn't involve survival, materials and the like. I suppose it's pure luck that I can remember my father's name..."
"Oh..." Dalton understood the situation in a way, he also didn't have many friends in his childhood, pretty much just Newton and, well, the tyrant, if he can be considered the same person these days.
"To this day they think I'm strange and scary." She added, sighing. "I recently discovered that Wolfgang is afraid of me. However, I managed to make a few more friends, like Webber and now, Walter, but..."
"But?" You questioned Dalton.
"Webber and I used to be inseparable, he was always there and beside me, he made a point of it. However, when we met Walter, I began to have the feeling of being thrown into the corner and abandoned, it seemed that Webber spent more time with him than with me, it seemed that he had more fun with him than he used to have fun with me..." She said, her tone seemed genuinely hurt.
"And yet, in the rare moments when Webber and I play alone, he seems to be having less fun than usual, he seems less cheerful than he used to be in the old days that we played together and alone without Walter. But now, Webber keeps insisting that we call that boy for anything, no matter how insignificant it is, like collecting flowers and the like." She continued, her tone seemed increasingly hurt.
"It's not like it used to be before, just me and him. Now it's me, him and Walter." The girl seemed to be beginning to get angry as she judged how she had uttered the scout name.
"Oh... I understand..." Dalton was already understanding the situation very well, it was something very simple and common, in fact, it was about jealousy. Wendy's custom of being Webber's only friend brought a certain discomfort when another person entered the circle, in this case, Walter, resulting in a feeling of abandonment, as if being replaced or left aside, a classic case of jealousy.
"Well, going back to my relationships with my family." Wendy said. "My father was very affectionate, despite being always very busy with work, besides spending a lot of time writing letters to his brother..."
"He tried to comfort me as much as he could when Abigail died." The desoded little one added.
"What about your mother?" He questioned.
The little girl just looked at him for a long period of time, which made the man even more worried and anxious. "So what?" He questioned, trying to get some answer from her.
"I don't want to talk about it." She answered simply, there was not even an expression on her face, her tone of voice was indecipherable.
"All right then." Dalton replied, he could no longer hide his concern, it would transpose on his face and become palpable. "Now, let's go back to commenting on the issue of abandonment that you say suffer, tell me, how often do you feel abandoned by Webber?"
"At first, only a few times." She answered. "But now, that feeling is endless, I always feel abandoned, because I suppose Webber came to regard me as expendable, he wouldn't mind playing alone with Walter. However, if it were just me he would undoubtedly miss the scout's presence."
"But have you ever stopped to analyze, that maybe this is just something in your head?" You questioned Dalton, looking at her.
"What do you mean?" Wendy asked, didn't seem to have understood very well. "Are you calling me crazy?"
"N-No, of course not!" The clumsy soon clarified. "I'm just saying maybe it's not exactly the way you think, you know?"
"Maybe you misinterpreted this whole situation." He added. "Children tend to get very excited when they become new friends, and it is perfectly common and healthy that they start spending more time with them than with the old ones, precisely so that they can strengthen ties! It's not like he's forgotten about you."
Wendy was silent for a moment, with a null but somewhat thoughtful expression, which worried the clumsy one a little.
"What do you think? Makes more sense, doesn't it?" Dalton questioned, trying to get some response from the girl.
"Well, I disagree about that." She answered, half irritated, as she crossed her arms. "I do not comment or say anything, without first analyzing much."
"Well, I just made an assumption." The clumsy one replied. "I've been quite busy with the projects that Me, Netwon and Wilson are developing, so I haven't had much time to observe their relationship with the other kids. But would you define your relationship with other survivors?"
"I keep my distance from the tyrant." Wendy replied, her tone had changed once again, she was visibly getting irritated. "With him, mere seconds of this damning and pathetic existence, become years, whole years of insults and abuse, whether physical or mental, and of course, when we do not fulfill our duties, we suffer a storm of injury and injury. A long time ago, we had a very difficult day, no one had been able to do their chores, he besides yelling at us, hurting us both mentally and physically, didn't allow anyone to eat a bran. I have never been so tempted to take my axe, and reduce it to hot pieces of flesh and blood, and to break it with others..."
Upon hearing the little girl's explanations, Dalton became increasingly disgusted and uncomfortable. However, what she had said at the end of the speech was what made him even more troubled, she had confessed those dark desire with a morbid, cold, insensitive and macabre tone of voice. It was not common for a child to nurture desires as foolish as those...
"All right, then!" Dalton replied as he forced a smile. He instantly repented of such a gesture, as if the drops of sweat that descended through his forehead were no longer enough, his smile also did not collaborate with his attempt to hide his despair.
"Why are you acting like this?" Wendy questioned, quickly noting Wendy's behavior change and suspicious expression.
"Uh, it's nothing!" Dalton replied, still with that forced smile, he was unable to contain his nervousness. "Forget it, so we can continue the interview!"
The girl then got up and began walking towards her psychologist. Dalton's face writhed in an expression of pure horror as he quickly stood up and took a few steps back, moving away.
"You're not telling me the truth." She remarked, stopping walking when she saw the scientist's despair. "You're hiding something from me! Come on, confess me."
"I told you it's nothing!" Dalton replied, frowning, his tone of voice had also worsened a little. "Well, come to think of it, I suppose we can wrap up our interview here! I have already gathered some information that will be necessary for the next sessions, enough for today!"
"Hmpf..." As much as her expression didn't show much, you could show that the little one wasn't very satisfied with the situation, she was convinced dalton was lying.
"Now, let's go back to camp!" Dalton said. "Make me an favor, and go ahead!"
"And why should I do that?" She questioned, putting her hands around her waist, in a tone of defiance. Now she was really angry!
"Oh, please!" The clumsy screamed, hitting himself in the face. "Just do it for me!"
"What a beautiful psychologist you are..." Wendy commented as she turned around and began to drift away. She was clearly disappointed with her first appointment. "But it's okay, I'm used to disappointments."
"Be gentle." He sighed and began massaging his forehead as he began to follow his patient through the forest.
Then, the two abandoned the beautiful field of flowers, the same, no longer looked so beautiful and colorful when they had arrived. The two walked through the forest in the middle of the night, without uttering a word to each other, however, Dalton's sighs momentarily cut through the silence that covered them.
"Well, well, well, well!" Wilson said, juggling axes, pickaxes and his Glass Cutter. "Who do we have here? If it isn't the scientist who thought he could modify the organization I set up for this camp." The tyrant then approached his old friend, he did not appear to be enraged, but certainly was not at all satisfied with what Dalton had done.
"I dispense with your rebukes." The other scientist responded, with a serious tone. "We have more important matters to attend to!"
"Oh, is it?" Wilson's tone of voice worsened, he seemed to be getting angrier and angrier. "Tell me!"
"Look at this!" Said Dalton, handing his clipboard to his old, unrecognizable friend. The clipboard continues the sheet with Wendy's questionnaire and answers.
The camp leader analyzed that sheet for a moment, and then threw the clipboard away. "What does it matter to me?"
"What does it matter to you?" Dalton screamed, angry, as he ran toward his clipboard to retrieve it. However, Willow had arrived first.
"What is written so important here?" Asked Willow, the clumsy man quickly took the clipboard from the hands of the pyromaniac.
"Nothing! Nothing you have to worry about, at least!" The clumsy one answered.
"Dear God, you don't have to be rude!" Said the pyromaniac, crossing her arms.
"I'm sorry, luv." Said Dalton, running his hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to sound rude, it's that these papers contain delicate material..."
"Hmm, ok then..." Willow replied, a little confused, but still suspicious. "And you just called me luv?"
"Remember, it's just a common cordiality between us British people!" Dalton replied quickly. Worried that the pyromaniac would misinterpret what he had said.
"Fine ..." Said the pyromaniac, still suspicious, even with Dalton trying to clarify.
"But anyway, these matters are up to you, Wilson!" The clumsy one then approached the tyrant. "What the hell have you been doing with these kids?"
"I gave orders." He answered simply. "Orders not to be complete useless to the group."
"They're kids, Wilson!" He exclaimed, already stressing with the scientist. "They are not your slaves! They deserve decent childhoods, even in this hellish place! Didn't you read what she wanted to do to you?" "It's not natural anything, let alone a healthy person her age to have desires like that! Don't you remember Amy Taylor?"
"Oh, yes! I remember her perfectly!" The tyrant answered. "And I'm surprised to know, after all these years, you still haven't gotten over it!"
"For the sake of the holy God, you know how traumatic that was for me!" Said Dalton.
"Who's Amy Taylor?" Wendy questioned, approaching.
"It's nobody you have to worry about." Dalton replied, looking at her.
"No, no, no, no!" Said Wilson, with a sadistic smile accompanied by a "no" sign in his hand. "Come on, Dalton, tell her!"
"She's too young for me to tell you about these things, Wilson!" He replied, pointing to Wendy.
"But she wants to know, Dalton!" Wilson kept insisting, it didn't look like he'd stop until the clumsy one gave in. "Are you going to disappoint her?"
"It may horrify her and traumatize her!" Dalton replied. "Not only her, but possibly many others!"
"Well, if you're not going to tell, I will!" Said Wilson, his smile just increased.
"Don't you dare!" The clumsy screamed, grinding his teeth. "I've already lost my patience with you, Wilson! In the old day, I was working together with you, enduring your neglect and cruelty to members of your group for the greater good, but now, this is already becoming personal!"
"Oh? And what are you going to do if I tell her?" The tyrant asked, in a provocative tone, was really curious to know Dalton's answer. "
"If you dare to do this, I'll tell you what we've been working on all this time!" The other one replied.
"Ah? You're going to appeal to that, are you?" The tyrant really seemed to be having fun with the situation. "What if I want to tell her anyway, huh?"
"You're bluffing!" Said Newton, approaching. "I know you very well, Wilson! For years of my life, I've lived with you, and I know you're very methodical and would never give opportunities to ruin your plans!"
Wilson's smile only increased, and he let out a somber laugh. "Congratulations! In fact, you know me very well! I don't really give you opportunities for idiots to unsell and ruin my brilliant and invaluable plans and purposes! And that's why I made it up..."
"This!" The tyrant shouted, removing from the pocket of his pants a strange weapon, very different than any ever seen by the man. "This weapon can do many amazing things, such as erasing certain memories! And not only that, it can also partially or completely erase your mind! That is, just one shot, so you can't even remember your own name!"
"You couldn't invent something like that!" Dalton exclaimed, a little nervous. "You're just bluffing again!" As much as he really believed it was a bluff, he kept getting a certain fear, since no one knew what the tyrant was capable of.
"Really?" Wilson questioned him, stirring his strange gun. "So tell me, Dalton, what's her name?" He then pointed to the pyromaniac.
"W-Willow." Dalton replied, still full of nervousness.
"All right, and now..." Suddenly, the tyrant shot Dalton, making everyone start by watching the strange gun shot. "Tell me, what's her name?" Wilson again pointed to the pyromaniac.
"I..." The clumsy looked at Willow, who possessed a confused expression on his face. "I have no idea! I don't even know her! Where the hell did she come from? Has she been here before?"
"What?". Willow questioned, confused and discredited, it was not possible that it had worked. "That's a joke, isn't it?
"Not really." Wilson replied, again stirring in his peculiar apparatus, and then throwing another shot toward the clumsy. "What now, Dalton? Tell me her name?" For the third time, the scientist pointed to the pyromaniac.
"Again?" You questioned Dalton, angry. "I told you it's Willow!"
"See, it works perfectly!" Wilson for the pyromaniac, he sported a smug smile that seemed to break his face in half. "And do not try to take over this macanism to try to erase my mind, I have already taken preventive measures to do so." The scientist then hit his own head, and for some strange reason, a metal sound echoed. "Did you see? I'm always infinitely ahead of everyone!"
"You're crazy!" Said Willow, she was always surprised at how insane the tyrant could be.
"Oh, but thank you very much!" The scientist thanked him, though he seemed sarcastic, he even saw it as a compliment. "Well, I guess it's okay for me to tell now, right?"
"Don't you dare, Wilson!" Dalton secreamed. He's so tempted to punch her old friend now, punch him until it triggers him in blows.
"Well, here's what we're going to do." Wilson said, with a huge smile on his face. "I will not reveal to them about such a dark secret, if you agree to stop meddling and criticize the way I command my minions. However, if you try again to modify the rules of my camp, I will make a total point of revealing to Wendy, in detail who Was Amy Taylor."
The clumsy sighed. "But you really are a coward!" He said, completely enraged. "It would be selfish of me to agree to such a ghastly deal, I even tell Wendy who Amy was, if you agree to let the children free of their tyranny!"
"I promise nothing." Wilson replied, shaking his head negatively, still a gigantic smile on his face. "But let's go! It'll be fun to see you try your luck!"
"Forget it." Wendy answered with a dead voice. "I don't want to know who she is anymore."
"Oh, " Dalton was relieved. "That makes things easier!"
"Oh, what an anticlimactic!" The tyrant exclaimed, disappointed but still smiling, he would not stop insisting yet. "Are you sure? Isn't it a mystery that stirs up your curiosity?"
"Sometimes not knowing is better." Wendy answered, with a dead tone.
Wilson's face instantly writhed, and quickly turned into a frown, the tyrant was discredited that he had heard it. "Sometimes not knowing is better?" He repeated, outraged and indignant. "If you continue with that kind of thinking, you run the risk of becoming a denialist of science!"
"Leave her in peace, Wilson!" The clumsy exclaimed, already tired of hearing the tyrant speak.
"No!" The scientist screamed, now he was really angry. "I can't allow this girl to grow up like this, so she doesn't remain stupid and risk someday she'll start believing, for example, in flat Earth theory or in some religion, because these idiocies are real delays to science!"
"Oh, but to allow her to be a slave without childhood you will right?!" Dalton raised his tone of voice, was also getting angry. "You're a creep!"
"See Wolfgang, for examples!" Wilson said, pointing to the muscular man, who can't help but cringe when he hears the tyrant quote his name. "I one day heard him say that Pluto is a planet! It just killed me even more inside! You want Wendy to become like him, Dalton? A completely lay imbecile in terms of science? Because frankly, I suspect he also thinks the Earth is flat..."
The muscular man approached. "Wolfgang..."
"I don't care!" The tyrant interrupted him by his screaming.
"And who cares about that?" The clumsy exclaimed, increasingly furious. "What matters is that these kids have a decent life, Wilson! And the other survivors too! You treat everyone like slaves!"
The tyrant just growled. "After this stress, and the disgust I was forced to endure, I lost all desire to tell you anything about Amy Taylor! That would bring no pleasure or comfort..."
"Ridiculous..." Said the clumsy, seeing his friend, or rather, who he thought was his friend, walking away.
"Whatever!" Wilson screamed, in response.
After that, the night came. Darkness rumoured through the camp, Charlie strolled freely from side to side, just as many other dark creatures passed by, surrounding the survivors in and out of mind...
Dalton was the one who felt it the most, the day had been exhausting, and it had drained a great deal of his sanity, which was no longer the greatest, due to the severe traumas of his past...
The poor scientist, who was accompanied by a laterna, was a little distant from the camp and the rest of the survivors, and he felt watched by thousands of bright eyes, heard whispers and giggles, voices calling by his name, saying things like "Dalton, come here, please...". In addition to seeing on the ground, a gigantic shadow, with two eyes, which watched him starly. Dalton shuddered his eyes as much as he could, and then the mysterious shadow was gone. And yet, of course, the clumsy saw gigantic hands in the field of light that the campfire emetia, however, they were unsure, noticing the look of the scientist.
As if all this were not enough, he also saw shadows in the corner of his eyes, which closely resembled the such Terrorbeaks and Crawling Horrors he had seen in Constant's substolo, however, whenever he looked toward the shadows, they disappeared, as if they were not even there. He also listened to Charlie's name, repeatedly, in a whispering tone.
Dalton then made a creed upon his chest, closed his eyes, and began to recite:
"Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen."
The young scientist no longer felt so bad, it is true, that he still felt observed, however, this feeling had diminished a little, he felt a little more sane. Praying always appeased, calmed and reassured his mind, causing him to enter a state of contemplation.
"Not even your God, can help you now, scientist." A voice echoed through the darkness, a dark voice as many dark and hazy voices as the mist, which kept repeating itself in Dalton's mind.
"Who's in there?" Dalton yelled. "I demand to know, and I demand that you reveal yourself now!"
"Praying to your imaginary friend, Dalton?" Until the clumsy's last hair got goose bumps, he felt that his soul would come out of his body by the throat due to the scare taking. He heard a voice coming from behind him, a very familiar voice...
Dalton turned around and there was the well-known figure, with whom he for years, was familiar.
The illustrious Wilson Percival Higgsbury, tyrant scientist. And he harbored a smile of derision on his face
"What do you want this time, Wilson?" Dalton questioned, his tone going from fear to pure hostility in seconds, could no longer stand to see the tyranny smile of the tyrant.
"Nothing." Wilson replied, with his smile diminishing, but remaining on his face. "I just saw you talking to the wind, and I came to try for the onet time to make you abandon that damn lie."
The clumsy one only growled and pressed his fists with all the strength he possessed, though it was little.
"You're past the age that was considered normal to talk to imaginary friends, Dalton." Said Wilson, with his smile finally disappearing. "God is a delusion, and nothing more, and everyone who believes in him has an erroneous view of the reality that surrounds them, so they are delusional! Abandon this lie Dalton, abandon your imaginary friend."
Dalton just sighed and shook his head negatively. "It is preferable to have an imaginary friend like my God, or even a chair that is capable of modifying the laws of the universe, than to be friends with someone real like you!"
"Wow, what a cruel comment!" Said the tyrant, smiling even more. "I feel like I'm going to die of pain and shame! In pain and shame!" His sarcasm was clear by the tone of his voice.
The tyrant then turned his back, and began to walk away from his old friend, well, they no longer seemed to be as close as they used to be before.
"I'd really like to slap you in the face, now." Dalton whispered, For himself.
"I heard it!" Said the tyrant, his tone of voice shone his joy and his derision. Soon after, a storm of laughter appeared.
"And I know it was you who said what not even my God could help me!" The clumsy screamed, looking toward the path by which Wilson had left.
"Your sanity is low, my naïve friend, I never told you that! It is extremely common for you to start listening to whispers and voices, this always happens to weeping cowards like you! I recommend you go to bed to sleep."
Dalton just shook his head negatively and sighed once more, and then rubbed his eyes, damn, he felt so tired now!
And then he again got startled to see among the trees that were illuminated by the Fire Pit, the shadow of the tyrant. The projection of that man's body was really scary, his sharp, spiky hair gave the impression that it was a demon! Well, now that Dalton was thinking about it, i wouldn't be completely wrong...
However, the clumsy noticed something strange, the tyrant had simply disappeared! He wasn't anywhere, so that shadow couldn't be there, according to physics!
Dalton again looked at that shadow, which was standing there, just like that, and that shadow seemed to be looking back at him...
A burning sensation went through the clumsy's head, and he began to sweat cold when the temperature of the habiente around him seemed to rise progressively and absurdly.
And then the shadow simply began to run, and disappeared into the darkness among the trees, leaving the clumsy alone, and perplexed.
"Jesus, what the hell just happened?" Dalton questioned, for himself, and then shook his head from side to side. "Wilson is right about this, I'm having visual hallucinations, there's nothing supernatural going on here right now! While in a world like this, this is a very pretentious statement! I think I'd better get out of here before I see something much worse!"
Dalton, still quite tormented, sat on one of the camp's trunks, under the light of the campfire, he could see other survivors, both outside and inside their tents. Their presence calmed the poor scientist's mind.
"Hey..."
He screamed, scared when he heard someone's call. His outing had been so scandalous that all those inside their tents came out so they could check what was happening.
Dalton said that the caller was just Willow, who was also arfava, she had been frightened by the blow that the scientist had given. "Don't ever do that again!" She said. "You scared me!"
"You scared me too!" He protested, a little angry. His heart beat at an absurd speed.
"You're the one who gave a hysterical scream!" The pyromaniac exclaimed.
Okay, yes, whatever!" The clumsy soon interrupted, calming down. "What's up?"
Willow sighed. "I just came here to keep you company." She said, sitting next to the scientist.
"Okay?" Said Dalton, seeming a little confused by this initiative.
"I must tell you that you were very brave facing that asshole like that." She said, with a sweet, docile smile on her face, her teeth didn't show up, but that's exactly what gave magic to that smile and that face, illuminated by the light of the fire.
"O-Oh." Dalton was a little hearty listening to this, but soon disguised it. "B-Well, I just did what I thought was right! Things need to change around here, even if he doesn't want to."
"It's..." Said Willow, still with a sweet and warm tone of voice. The pyromaniac then slowly grabbed the scientist's arm with both hands, while her head went down and snug on her shoulder. "You were very brave..." Her tone just went on and kept becoming a suit.
"Thank you, I suppose!" Dalton replied, completely embarrassed, as he gently removed Willow's hands from his arm, and then pulled away. "Sorry, I don't appreciate such an approach."
"Oh, yes..." Willow replied, beginning to play with her hair, while her temper and tenderness seemed to die. "I understand."
"Hey, buddy!" Said Winona, approaching the scientist with a big smile. "I must comment that I was also quite impressed with your attitude and how you behaved in front of that asshole! You also seemed to act like a true leader as you stood up to him at that moment, and I was very impressed how determined you were to fight for those children."
"A-Ah, well, thank you..." Once again the clumsy was blushing, but just like the other time he soon tried to get himself back on his part. "But I just said what I believe, I can't keep my mouth shut watching him treat everyone in such a precarious way, especially the kids!"
Willow only observed the conversation with an illegible expression, but Wendy who was around at the time, watching the scene, would venture to say that she was frustrated and deeply hurt for some reason, and the little girl understood perfectly these sensations, she had experienced them before, and kept experimenting until now...
However, the desolate was distracted by the scientist's conversation and mechanics, seeing that Walter and Webber quickly approached, looking at each other as they talked.
"Dude, I still can't believe we're finally going to camp away from this camp for an entire night!" Walter commented with happiness, kind of whispering, so that the camp leader wouldn't listen to him.
"I'm sorry to interrupt as I am to question, but the tyrant did not forbid you to do so?" Wendy questioned, her tone of voice revealed that she was a little worried. Although she still felt hurt by the terrible imprisonment of the feeling of abandonment, she cared frankly about the indigestible, and even her Scout friend, although she felt he had taken Webber away from her.
"Yes, he forbade it." Walter answered, with a great insolent smile. "But we don't care, nothing will stop us from camping!"
"But what if he finds out his desobedicence?" The girl questioned, was afraid of what the tyrant could do if he ended up seeing both, considering what he had already done in the past was a very worrying possibility.
"fI he finds out, we are armed and ready to remove his crown, and cast him off his throne!" Answered Walter, full of confidence. The scout then removed from his polso his slingshot and some pointed stones that he carried in the other pocket.
No word came out of Wendy's mouth after that, he knew perfectly well that if Wilson discovered the act of disobedience of those two, they could end up badly hurt and even dead!
"I recommend you not to go." The desolate finally broke the silence. "A mere slingshot can't even hurt or kill that man."
"It's not a mere slingshot!" The scout said, clearly too confident in his ability. "It is the slingshot that will bring down the tyrant!"
"If no one in the whole group has managed to defeat him so far, do you think a slingshot would do that?" Wendy questioned, almost without waiting for Walter to finish talking, she was very worried about what might happen in this situation.
"I don't think, as I'm also sure!" He answered, proudly. "It's just a matter of technique!"
Wendy just sighed and shook her head negatively. She felt that something horrible was about to happen...
"Well, we can't keep wasting time!" Said Walter, looking at his friend Webber. "Every second is precious as gold and diamond! This is going to be the best boys' night in history!"
"Can I come with you?" Wendy questioned, meekly as he slowly approached the two of them.
The scout and the indigestible looked at each other together, and then they looked back at their friend. "I'm sorry Wendy, but this is supposed to be a boys' night of all!" Walter explained, still with a big smile on his face, however, his tone of voice was calm and gentle. "So, soon, you won't be able to participate."
"Hmm." Wendy replied, frowning. The way she had spoken, perhaps allowed the two of them to find out how angry she was getting to Walter. Although Wendy's reason told her that the Boy Scout had no desire to offend and despise her and reduce her in front of Webber as if she were not a person, her emotion screamed at her with fury and disgust, that Walter was acting purposefully as a scoundrel, sarcastic and a thief of friends.
"... Well, let's go then!" Said the scout, turning to his friend, despite slightly realizing how angry Wendy was, had no idea that it was her words that had offended her, it was very difficult to read the emotions of that girl after all.
Webber just smiled and began to follow his friend, who quickly ran away with a flashlight in his hand, the indigestible brought one with him too, and in a matter of seconds, they disappeared into darkness, leaving Wendy alone and lonely again. She sighed, the situation of her life was always miserable, according to herself...
She turned around and was surprised to see Wes behind her, doing with her index finger in her mouth, as if telling her to be quiet, keeping the secret of those two boys. Truth be told, a somewhat selfish side of Wendy had revealed herself at that very moment, she felt the sudden urge to warn the tyrant about the disobedience of those two boys, ruining their night of fun, only for their dissatisfaction. It was lightning, the little girl quickly repressed these atrocious thoughts, shook her head from side to side, trying to push them away, the sudden movement frightened Wes, forcing the mime to move away a little. But soon after Wendy calmed down, he slowly approached and tried to cheer her up with his old trick of pretending to be trapped in an invisible box...
My goodthing, how it was getting boring, bored and frustrated Wendy. Those tricks just made her feel more dead inside than she had ever felt, something she had long considered faithfully impossible because she believed she was completely dead. And she felt so eager to shave the mime at that moment...
"I'm not in the mood for this." She answered, monotonously.
The mime soon stopped, doing a sad and disheartened pose, with his arms thrown, his attempt to cheer up the poor girl had failed miserably.
Wendy sighed and hit her own face. Hell, as she hated herself, she couldn't do anything, say a sentence, a word, even a letter, without feeling guilty and filling herself with remorse. Her selfish side, screaming, trying to convince her not to care about the well-being of others, she suffered, and everyone else suffered, it was common and natural, so soon there was no reason to worry about it. However, her other side, her gentle side, screamed and tried to convince her, that precisely because she knew pain, suffering and loss, more than anyone else, sealed and reinforced her duty to behave kindly and sympatheticly to everyone else, and help them heal their wounds and ensure that their scars did not open again , no matter who.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." She answered, with a suit tone, this time. "I'm just too upset for this right now, I suppose sleeping will do me good. You're an amazing artist, I must comment."
The mime's pose quickly changed, going from one that expressed sadness to one that expressed happiness, easily showing these emotions without even sketching a facial expression, he was really very good at what he did.
Meanwhile, Dalton, after having a rather awkward conversation with Winona, withdrew from the bench on which he was seated and entered his tent. Make no mistake who thought he would leave in the middle of the night, in a monster-infested world, in the most complete and profound pitch to find out what that shadow he had seen was. He wasn't an idiot!
Wendy soon also headed towards her tent, she was extremely tired, the day had been tiring. And she returned to think of the discussion that the two scientists had said about that mysterious figure, who continued to haunt her mind. Dalton seemed desperate about the possibility of Wilson revealing the identity of who this dark secret was, and the clumsy seemed determined to do everything he could not so she wouldn't find out. The desoded little woman had said that she had lost her interest in knowing who it was, but this was just a lie, told to reassure Dalton and appease the discussion. However, curiosity and doubt continued to torment her...
Who could be Amy Taylor?
