To begin. So much has happened since I last sat down to write. I found that the cave I have taken up residence in is far larger than I had thought. It also turned out to be more dangerous than I expected. This new back area I found was too dark to see and smelled of something dead a thousand times over. I do not remember what happened in between my entering and the rest of the day, but Willow told me that she ended up "exploding the smell" as it were. She did tell me the name of whatever the smell was, but I think she made it up. I was thrown down the cavern into a strange pool and knocked unconscious for a time. When I was roused, it was by willow. Not my own mind's willow, but that willow made flesh and blood by the strange unholiness of this place. She seems to be as my hands wrote her, but I fear a demon or a shapeshifter of some kind. They may use me for sustenance or as a slave. After all, this...willow, is like no other human being I have ever met. Her eyes have no pupils and are too large for her skull, yet she is able to see perfectly. Even stranger, she is able to hold fire, to touch it without pain or damage. No human would be up to such a task or look such a way. But then the obvious question is why be so blatantly inhuman? If the demons task was to fool me, why be so transparent? Certainly, it should be impossible for a part of my brain to manifest as human, but I have seen no writing coming from willow since this beast came to be. Time will tell I suppose, but I must keep up my guard.

Now that there are two of us, we will be going through food twice as fast. Willow does look quite a lot smaller than me, but from the way she eats it is likely due to a strong metabolism. It's rather strange really. From a creature supposedly born from my brain, she does not look much like me. And I still don't know where she got those clothes from. Are they a part of her? Did she make them, or find them?

Okay, according to Willow, they were on her when she was "born", as it were. So if she is to be believed, then that means they must be a part of her. So then the question is, what are they made of?


"Excuse me?"

"Can you give me your shirt?" Wilson said, as if he were asking for a cup of sugar.

"Uh, what? Why?" Willow asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I need to find out what material your clothes are made from,"

"Dude, it's cloth. Seriously, why do you care?"

"Are the clothes fused to you? Can you even take them off?"

"Of course I can you twit, what kind of clothes do you think these are?" She replied, gesturing to her blouse, skirt, and leggings.

"I do not know, that's why I want to check," Wilson replied, "do you not think it is strange to be birthed into existence with perfectly fitting clothes already on you?"

"Uh, no? What, did you expect me to come out naked?" Willow replied, genuine surprise crossing her face.

"What kind of... Okay, give me your shoe at least," Wilson replied.

"Fine, but I better get it back," Willow slipped off one of her heeled shoes and threw it at Wilson, who fumbled the catch and dropped in his lap, where it hit painfully against his crotch. One sudden intake of breath later, Wilson was lying down, examining the shoe.


My previous hypothesis was incorrect. Willow is not connected to her clothing, at least not her shoes. Examination shows rather little, as they feel, for all intents and purposes, like ordinary shoes. In fact, I am sure I have seen Charlie wear a pair just like these. The tread, the shape, the strange leather smell. It is all the same. The only difference is that these are about a size or two smaller. That and the awful smell of foot emanating from the inside.
It could be possible that these shoes, as well as the rest of Willow's attire, was created from my own mind, my own subconscious, just as she was. Okay, I must simplify this. The scientific method has done good things for me, so let's break it into hypotheses.
Hypothesis one, Willow is a being created from my own fevered and crazed mind, like an illusion or some sort of hallucination. This one's tricky, as on the one hand we have all these similarities to things in my subconscious, but on the other we have her influencing the world in ways I couldn't be doing, either because I don't know how or because I am doing something else at the time. However, it is also perfectly possible that I am currently starving to death and hallucinating everything that's happened since day one. I hope it isn't that, but I have no accurate way of knowing.
Hypothesis two, Willow is a shape-shifting demon. I think this can be discounted, unless this demon can somehow copy what's in my mind but doesn't know how people look or act.
Hypothesis three, Willow is a real human being, born from my brain, with supernatural powers and clothes that come from nowhere.
Personal note: find out how to make alcohol.

On the upside, the rain appears to finally be abating. The forest is becoming visible, and I can see some clouds. Almost three and a half days of bucketing rain. What kind of place is this to have such weather? I think I should get out and get as many supplies as possible in case this is only the eye of the storm.


Wilson's pen went down and the journal was closed. He stood up, looked outside and shivered under a cool breeze. His white chest was still clearly exposed to the elements, and it looked even paler than usual.

"You alright?" Willow asked, looking up from the fire she was poking with those haunting eyes.

Wilson picked up a sharpened stone and walked towards the meat husk of the mega-buffalo. "I will be fine," he said, as he began to rake the stone through the skin.

The knife, as it were, did its work. The blood of the creature had dried and become brownish red. It didn't flow so much as it peeled off to reveal redder blood beneath it. Even in death, the creature's blood clotted. Cutting the flesh, as Wilson did so inexpertly, released a strong iron smell. It was dry, dry enough to feel like you were choking on it, with an ugly sweetness underlying it all. It took about half an hour, but Wilson finally cut out enough hide to make a coat. Well, he thought he had. In fairness, it looked more like a cape, or a rather large and square scarf. It was still bloody on the inside, and it had chunky bits of flesh still clinging to it. He wrapped around his shoulders and torso, leaving his pasty midriff exposed to the elements. It looked like a very poorly made poncho, which I suppose is what it was.

"Ew," was all Willow had to say as Wilson walked back to the cave entrance. She pinched the bridge of her nose and mimed gagging.

"It will do until I can find what passes for sheep here," Wilson said, trying not to gag himself, "now, I must go and gather supplied. I will be back within a few hours."

"Wait, you're leaving me alone? There's nothing to do here," Willow said, hopping to her feet, "besides, I want to go exploring."

"No no no, it is far too dangerous for you out there," Wilson replied.

"Yeah, because I'm soooooooo defenseless," Willow said, grabbing a burning log with her bare hands, "oooh, that feels pretty nice."

"Point taken," Wilson said, tearing his eyes from the crackling log, "just do not leave my sight."

They began to walk down the mountain. They weren't high up enough for it to be steep, but there was a still a lot of loose stones for them both to trip on. And trip they did. Willow fell on her butt first, much to Wilsons amusement. He was laughing so hard that he didn't notice Willow getting back up. She leaped forward, pushing him back into his sled. Willow watched him careen down the hill, screaming at the top of his lungs as her smile grew wider and wider, till she began to run, arms out, down the hill. Wilson bounced and rocked and did everything he could to keep his bones intact, picking up speed until the wind was all but pulling his poncho off his shoulders. In less than a minute, he hit the grass, and was bucked off by a particularly strong bump. He landed on the grass and carried his momentum, rolling wildly through the brush. He finally came to a stop with his arms and stomach covered in grass burns. Seconds of stunned silence passed before willow appeared above him, panting and smiling that primal smile of hers.
It was at this very moment that Wendy came out.

"Are you death?" She asked, a little bit of hope seeping into her monotone voice.

"Hehehehehe, you're not hurt that bad you faker," Willow replied, brushing some hair out of her face and helping Wendy to her feet.

"Who are you?" Wendy asked, looking down at her chafed arms.

"I'm Willow? You're not Willy, are you?" Willow said, knowing the answer, "wasn't there someone else... Wait, are you Wanda?"

"Wendy," Wendy said.

"Oh. Well, cool! It's a pleasure ta meetcha," Willow said, sticking out a hand.

Wendy looked at it, and then back at Willow.

"Okay, no handshake," she retracted the hand and looked around, "Alright, well Willy said we need supplies, so let's go do some 'splorin!"

"Suplorin?"

"'Splorin! You know, like exploring?"

"Oh."

"Yeesh," Willow said, turning on her heel and walking towards the forest. She then had to turn right back around when she saw that Wendy was not following her, "you comin?"

"I don't want to."

"Well, why not?"

"I don't know who you are."

"Yes, you do! I just told you my name!"

"No, you're a stranger. Strangers are dangerous."

"Don't you keep goin' on about wanting to die or somethin? If I'm all dangerous and stuff, then surely I'm the one you wanna go with."

Wendy considered her for a moment, her head cocked to one side. She spent such a long time considering that Willow wondered if she'd fallen asleep. When she went to rouse her, Wendy jumped away, which in turn caused Willow to jump back.

"See! You're trying to touch me!"

"Jeez girl, I thought you'd fallen asleep!"

"And then you were going to touch me!"

"No that's not- I was going to try and wake you up because the man who owns the body you're in needs food, and so do I," Willow stopped to inhale deeply, then continued, "so unless you wanna starve to death, you need to get up and come with me, alright?"

"What's the point."

Willow tried to get words out, but her voice wouldn't go anywhere. She took a few deep breaths and tried again, "I just told you what the point is, we need food or else we will both starve to death."

"Yeah, but we're going to die anyway, why prolong the inevitable?"

"AAAAAAAAARRGGGGHHH!" Willow yelled, jumping up and down like the ground was covered in hot coals. She then proceeded to stalk off a ways into the forest. Wendy could hear a click, a sudden light, and a deep exhale of breath. Willow returned to her with a burning log clutched in her hands. They sat like that for a while, with willow transfixed by the fire in her hands, and Wendy staring over the top of her knees.

"Only you can prevent forest fires," Wendy said, repeating a foggy memory as she stared at the flame.

"Shut up," Willow replied

By the time Wendy swapped back to Wilson, a pile of ashes had begun to build upon Willow's skirt. Wilson looked at her and got up.

"Did I change?"

Willow did not look up, "yeah. That Wendy's a delight, I tell ya."

"Mmm. Shall we move on? You can bring the log."

Willow nodded and stood up, the ash whipping away and falling between the blades of grass like reverse raindrops. They began to walk into the woods. It was about midafternoon now, and the sun was coming down from midday. Red blotches were already forming on the two of them. Willow only had her nose to worry about, but poor Wilson looked terrible. His beard was shielding his lower face from harm, but his forehead and cheeks were as red as slapped buttocks. His arms, his midriff, even his legs were all sunburnt. The worst of it was around his burns, fire or grass related. Every time he moved, he could feel the pain spike throughout his skin, like a million paper cuts. Willow didn't really feel it until scrunched up her nose. She did that because she had just trodden in a massive cow pat that she had mistaken for solid ground.

"That must be mega buffalo poo! They will be close by," Wilson said, wincing from the pain of moving his face.

"Great, wonderful even," Willow replied, wrenching her foot out of the crap. It was thick, but had an elasticity to it, like stepping in five kilos of rotting bubblegum. When she finally got her foot out, she fell backward with a crash, hitting herself in the face with the log.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, rushing over to try and help. Of course, this meant trying to grab the still smoldering log, which burnt his hands.

Willow pushed the log off, revealing her soot-covered face, "I'm fine, don't worry." She clambered to her feet, "also, I was gonna say, but mega buffalo seems like a really dumb name. It's got way too many letters."

"Well, what else could you call them? They are buffalo, and they are extremely large."

"Nah, needs to be all one word. So they're big...hmmm, big, large. Would you say they're buff?"

"Uh...I suppose, they'd need a lot of muscle to move around."

"Buff-buffalo?"

"That is not an improvement."

"Yeah, I don't like it much either. How about...what else means buff?"

"Toned, muscular, beefy..."

"That's it, how about beefalos! Cause they're strong, and they're buffalos, and they taste like beef!"

"How do you know what they taste like?"

"I had some last night. It's really chewy."

"Hmmm, well I suppose. Beefalo it is."

They continued to walk for some time. Willow tried to restart her log, but it was effectively ash at this point, so she tossed it away. There was silence between the two of them, at Wilson's request, so as not to startle anything they might need to catch. Finally, after half an hour, they came upon an enormous clearing. It was here that they found a whole herd of beefalo. Wilson pulled willow behind a bush as they watched.

"My goodness, there must be at least sixty here," Wilson whispered, barely able to contain his excitement, "I wonder how long they've been here!"

"I dunno man. So what's the plan, how're we catching one of these?"

Wilsons face froze for a moment and then dropped, "oh, right. Ummmm. Well, while I remember my plan, how about you tell me what you think we could do."

"Willy, this is the first time I've seen one of these things alive. How'd'ya figure that I'll know what to do?" Willow peeked out of the bushes at one of the bigger ones, who's horns would easily be as long as she was tall, "we don't even have any weapons besides a dinky sleigh, and there's no way either of us is punching one of those things."

"Hmm, maybe another day then," Wilson replied, "though we should take this time to run some experiments."

"Like what?"

"Well, it would be worth knowing if these creatures are territorial."

"Well I can see a few babies in there, so I'm gettin a hunch that they are."

"That is an assumption, and assumptions have no place in science, now out you go," with that, Wilson shoved willow out of the bushes and in front of the whole herd. Almost immediately, the faces of the ten largest beefaloes swiveled around to look at her. Willow stayed as still as she could, "Wilson, what the actual fuck."

"Look, now we know they are safe. Get closer, see if you can get a feel of their mane."

"You do it if you wanna know so badly!" Willow said, much louder than a whisper. The beefalo shifted uneasily, looking at her with glazed eyes.

"I am strictly an observer," Wilson replied.

"Observe this asshole!" She yelled, reaching and yanking Wilson out of the underbrush. The largest beefalo let out a groan and began to run straight at the two of them.

Now, neither of these two could be described as athletic. They were both skinny, sure, but that didn't make them fit. But there is something about being charged by a beast the size of an elephant that puts a bit of energy into a person's muscles. They ran at full pelt into the forest, the beast crashing behind them. Wilson screamed as he ran, harmonizing strangely well with the groaning roar of the beefalo. Willow didn't make a noise, but she was not enjoying this either. The beast tore down trees in an attempt to get at them, throwing splinters into the back of their clothes. It was at this moment that Wilson felt this sharp, wood-based pain that he swapped to Wolfgang. Now Wolfgang did not know what was going on, just that there was a loud noise in him and behind him, and that he was flat out running through a forest. Of course, Wolfgang quite enjoyed running, so he kept on doing that, but something needed to be done about those noises. He twisted his head around, caught sight of the creature that was gaining on them, and his scream became a roar of delight.

He turned to Willow, "You found bear for Wolfgang to wrestle!"

Willow looked at him, her eyes not comprehending anything for a moment. Realisation hit her, and her face tightened, "Wolfgang, no..."

"WOLFGANG YES!"

With that, Wolfgang turned around and leaped. The beefalo was moving so fast that Wolfgang didn't so much land on it as he was flattened against it. He clung to the fur above its neck as the beast continued to run, laughing through the white hair in his mouth. It slammed into a few more trees, and Willow had to leap to the left to avoid being flattened. Wolfgang became to slam his fist against the creatures tough hide, but he made little headway. The beefalo, to its credit, had stopped and was trying to shake Wolfgang off like an enormous mosquito. Grunts and growls came from beast and man as Wolfgang kicked the creature where the back of its skull met its neck. This had some effect, as the beefalo groaned in pain.
While the two of them fought, willow set to work doing what she did best: making a fire. Assembling several rocks and a stick, she managed to carve a basic spear. Then, she smeared on some of the beefalo crap from her shoe and set it on fire with the other rocks. It caught instantly, and the smell made her gag. She stood up, one hand on her nose and the other on her spear, and began to advance. The great monster shook itself one final time, bucking forwards and flinging Wolfgang off of itself. He bounced and tumbled along the grass floor until coming to a stop some meters away. For a second, Willow thought he might be dead, then one of his arms shot into the air with all the fervent excitement of a mad person. The beast closed in on Wolfgang, taking its time and completely forgetting about Willow, who jabbed her burning spear deep into the flank of the beast. The beefalo did the closest thing to a scream and jerked itself away from willow. It's body smacked into a tree, and Willow was unable to hold on as the spear snapped, leaving the sharp, burning half embedded in the creature's thigh. It bucked and flailed, sending tremors into the surrounding trees. Willow had to back up to avoid being crushed beneath it, but she needn't have worried. In one moment of carelessness, the creature jumped, got its hoof caught in a thick tree root, and tried to jump again. There was a sickening snap as the beefalos own muscles worked against it, and it collapsed, crippled and in shock, on the floor of the forest. Willow got to her feet, before stumbling over and helping a bruised Wolfgang to his.

"We eat well tonight," Wolfgang said, smiling under his emerging black eye. He gestured at Willow, "put some meat on Witch bones!"

"I'm not a... Actually, y'know what, I might be. Willow the witch does have a pretty good ring to it," Willow replied, wrapping an arm under his as they both limped towards the beast, "but how're we gettin it all home?"

"Wolfgang will lift all!" He said, going to flex and then thinking better of it.

They both looked over the beast. It was still alive, and it's blank eyes were wide with shock. It wasn't feeling any of the pain yet, but it would. And that alone might kill it. Its mouth was slackened, and Wolfgang could see the enormous light red mass that was the creatures tongue. Enormous on any beefalo, but downright massive on this titan of a creature. The way it flopped about lazily in the cavern that was its mouth made it look like its own creature. It was as if it were a parasite that had replaced its real tongue long ago. Wolfgang didn't really make that connection though, he was too busy wondering how it might taste. He was thinking that it might taste like calamari, or old sushi, both of which he had never even eaten.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was just beginning to set. Willow set about gathering some berries, and some firewood, while Wolfgang was to rest off his injuries against the beefalo. At some point, while Willow was getting a proper fire pit ready, the beefalo's breathing gave way to a quick and violent spasm, followed by stillness.

"Is dead!" Wolfgang proclaimed, slamming a fist against its thick hide in victory.

"Sweet, that's more food for us," Willow replied, "any chance you know how to serve meat?"

"Wolfgang can serve knuckle-sandwich, but is acquired taste."

"I saw that," Willow said, stirring the fire with her fingers, "why do you like fighting so much?"

"Wolfgang like fighting normal amount. Once in morning, twice in evening. Is healthy," Wolfgang replied, rolling his shoulders, "when was younger, Wolfgang fight too much. Sometimes thirty fights a day. Too much, mama said, too much for growing boy. But I not listen."

"What happened?"

"Mama say too much fighting pop Wolfgang muscle like balloon! Wolfgang not believe that, so he fight and fight and fight until one day; Wolfgang puny man," he gestured to his scrawny body. Then he pulled open his shorts and his face dropped, "oh no, all muscle pop!"

Willow had to fight herself to not laugh as Wolfgang bemoaned his unfilled trousers, "but surely there's a way to get your muscles back? I mean, you're fighting's all healthy now, so your muscles won't pop."

Wolfgang looked up at her, a bit of suspicion crossing his face for the first time maybe ever, "there is way, but how does Wolfgang know witch girl will not steal them? Witch is even scrawnier than puny man!"

"Oi, I'm petite, thank you very much. And I like being this way," Willow replied, folding her arms, "all that height you've got is just asking for trouble."

"Bah, speak for self pipsqueak," Wolfgang said, his suspicious gaze easing off. He chuckled, "Wolfgang know how to make more muscle. This why Wolfgang run and fight, because Wolfgang is biggest. Easy to be biggest when others not trying though."

Willow rolled her eyes, "title's yours mate, I don't care."

"Why not? Is good to be powerful, is good to be big," Wolfgang said.

"Nah Nah Nah, I'd much rather be fast, light on my feet," Willow replied, "it's easier to run and hide than to fight."

"Bah! No one get food by running from prey," Wolfgang said, patting his kill.

"What about predators y'can't fight? Your muscles don't help you if y'can't hit what you're fighting."

"Wolfgang never fought something Wolfgang couldn't beat."

"Now that's a load of bullshit, what about birds?"

"Wolfgang never fought a bird. They not have enough meat."

"Alright, how bout a bet?" Willow said, leaning over the fire, "if you can catch and kill the next bird we see with only your fists, I'll let you make me stronger. But if you can't, you have to eat a handful of beefalo poo."

"You has bet." Wolfgang replied, and reached his hand across to shake Willow's.

They shook, and as Wolfgang sat back down, he swapped back to Wilson.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. What did I miss?" he asked, trying not to move. He turned around, took one look at the felled beast and leaped backward, slipping dangerously close to the fire, "Ow! Arrrghh! What the! why is it...wait, is it dead? What did you do?"

Willow sat him back down and explained the situation to him. Wilson, to his credit, didn't say anything until the end, even if he really wanted to.

"So wait, where's my sled?"

"Ah crap, I forgot. We left it at the herd when we ran. But it's going to be too small to carry this thing back home."

"Yeah, I think so. Did you guys eat any of it yet?"

"Also no. I haven't had a knife."

"Rocks do the job pretty well," he said, picking up one such rock and digging into the fur. It disappeared underneath the fluff but made no headway into the actual skin. The hide was too thick and the stone too dull.

"Yeah, I did get the sense that cutting open a freshly dead adult would be a little different to a dead baby."

"Shush you," Wilson said, clawing at the fur in a desperate attempt to get the meat, "didn't you say you killed it with a spear?"

"Again, a little bit different to hitting it with a shit ignited spear as opposed to a dull rock," Willow said with a smile.

"Pass me that stick, it cannot be that hard,"

Willow chucked the stick at him, missing his head and bouncing off the creature. Wilson gave her as reproachful a look as he could before fumbling about in the dirt. He laid out the branch and the rock, looking for some way to hollow one out and stick it in the other. Willow just watched the fire crackle away as he proceeded to over-complicate a problem. Finally, Willow got tired of hearing his dissatisfied grunting and threw a bit of twine at him just as he was mashing the stick and rock together. It landed on the stick, and there was a small flash of green light. Once Wilson had blinked the spots from his eyes, he saw the perfectly made spear now laying in his hands.

"What the fuck?"

"Language!"

"Seriously Willy?"

"Those kind of words are never appropriate!"

"You just fused some stuff into a spear, what kind of response is appropriate to that?"

"You could have said 'well I never', that would have been fine!"

"Yeah no, what did you just do?"

"I have no idea."

They both looked at it for a second, peering it over with curiosity. Wilson wondered if he had accidentally set off a chemical reaction of some sort, maybe fusing these things together. Willow wondered if it was actually going to work as a spear.

"So...you gonna test it?"

"No! Do you have any idea how volatile this could be? No no, I must run some tests to find out what caused this."

Willow then proceeded to roll her eyes, grab the spear out of his hand, and plunge it into the hide of the creature. It sunk all the way down to where she was holding it, slipping in like a blowtorch through snow. She pulled it back out, covered in blood, gore, and loose organ parts. She gave it a bit of a shake and handed it back to Wilson.

"Well, it does what you made it for, so carve me some beef!"

"Buh, wha, fa-" Wilson spluttered, trying to find some words. He didn't, but he kept looking for a few more seconds until he sat back against the beast and began to cut off some hair.

As he sliced, he marveled at the clean cut. Every angle of the rock had been sharpened to flat perfection. It was difficult to see where the blade ended and the air began, but he felt that might be because of the low light. Still, a fine tool, and something he would hold on to, strange chemical happenings or not. By the time he had finished carving out uneven slices of flesh, Wilsons forearms were covered in red. He looked like a butcher, his exposed skin looking like gloves and an apron in the half-light. He offered the pieces to Willow, who looked back at him with a questioning expression.

"I cut, you cook."

She nodded and set to work, immersing the meat in the fire. The blood crackled and popped as the meat burned, filling the air with a salty copper smell, like a sea-side lighthouse that has been plagued with rust. They cooked quickly, tanning brown in a few minutes. Wilson got a few leaves to serve as a plate as he hoed down on his strips. Willow left hers in longer until they were black as ash, before crunching them up between her teeth. It was a quiet dinner, save for the chewing, crunching, smacking and crackling. When they'd finished, Willow peered out into the night, a look of anxiousness on her face.

"I think we should take turns keeping watch," Wilson said.

"Yeah, I'll pay that," Willow replied, gazing out at the darkness, "scissors paper rock?"

They threw their hands out a few times, but willow won with scissors to Wilsons paper, so she turned over and tried to make herself comfortable. Wilson pulled the spear close and fiddled with some chipped wood on the handle as the night waned on. He watched the fire grow dimmer and dimmer, throwing on a stick or two with each hour, and waited.