Willow awoke the next day, her head resting in the smoldering fire pile she'd used as a pillow the night before. Her jet black hair had become even darker with the soot, and she shook splinters from her face as she sat up.

Wilson was still asleep, his mouth hanging open and snores echoing from within. A string of drool dangled from his lips, bobbing above the grass. Willow let him be and wandered to the stream over the way. Taking off her clothes and tossing them into a heap, she began to wade into the shallow waters. It was cold, almost to freezing, but the warmth of the fading fire had done a lot to keep her skin warm. As she lay in the pool, she took stock of recent events. Her worldly "birth", the capturing of the beefalo, the fight with the hounds, her row with Wilson, teaching Wex how to eat. Her entering this world sprung to mind, unbidden. She hadn't thought about how she'd gotten here. She knew she'd existed before, and she knew she existed now, but the point that should've connected those two didn't seem to exist. She tried to remember what had happened before she'd popped into Wilson's head, but there was nothing. Not even the flicker of a long forgotten memory. Just an inky blackness where some of her should be.

Meanwhile, back at Shitbug camp, Wendy woke up. She took a look around herself, and saw no-one. She saw spears on the ground, a lump of ash, and a monster. Upon spotting the husk of the beefalo, she leapt backwards, letting out a small shriek. However, that shriek caught in her throat when she realised how much pain her body was in. She sunk to the floor, tears streaming from her eyes as her legs, arms, back and head burned. She tried to breathe, but every time she inhaled, her broken rib would catch on her lung and sing with pain. Her fingers curled into stiffened hooks from the pain, whilst cramps coursed across her back and thighs as her whole body contracted. After an hour of pain, tears, and being curled up on the floor, Willow returned. She was still soaking wet, carrying her clothes in one hand and some kindling in the other, with the plan to light herself on fire instead of making a towel. She caught sight of Wendy and dropped what she was holding.

"Jeez Willy, what happened?"

"H-H-hurts..." Wendy choked out, a dribble of blood running down her cheek and mixing in with her tears.

"Ah fuck, Wendy?" Willow looked around, trying to find anything that might be able to help, "Okay hon, hang on," with that, Willow picked up a spear and looked for some Giga-flys. She found three and brought them back, "here, eat these. It'll make ya feel better."

Wendy, to her credit, did her best to eat them. The tears, blood and snot seem to drench anything she tried to eat, but she soldiered on. Maybe she wasn't noticing the taste. She had other things to worry about after all. Willow looked on, feeling very ill as she watched the half naked body of Wilson leak from every part of his face. When Wendy had finished, she looked at Willow, still crying like a newborn, "it's not stopping."

"I know. Y'had a pretty nasty scrape. Well, you didn't, yer other..."selves" did. Our brother's got us into a right mess," Willow explained, offering a hand, "c'mon, that grounds not too comfy."

Wendy got to her feet, wincing in pain and falling many times, but eventually standing up. She and Willow walked back to the patch of soft grass that Wilson had been using to sleep. Willow tucked her in with the poncho, which looked rattier every day. Wendy shivered in a breeze, and winced again, sounding like a mouse squeaking in pain. Willow surveyed the area again, and landed on the beefalo.

"Well, it ain't like we're usin' it f'much," Willow remarked to herself. She picked up a spear and set to work, peeling off two long strips of fur. She made long strokes, taking out sheets of skin from the beast so massive that it would wrap Willow up twice over. Despite the skin being far thicker than the poncho, it came away easily under the edge of the spear. Underneath, she found the still red looking meat, looking fresh despite it being dead for days now. Even after cutting the sheets of skin away from its body, the beast still had plenty to spare.

Wilson's poncho, while doing its job, had rounded out to be a soggy, disgusting thing. He'd cut it poorly, and chunks of rotting meat clung to it still. Willow was no more of an expert, but she did scrape off the excess meat, leaving only the skin and fur. She threw it over herself then and there, but found it to still be cold and unpleasant. The still fresh blood dripped against her already wet back. Wendy watched as Willow scanned the camp yet again, and began to grab the biggest sticks she could find.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Wendy asked, her voice shaking with the effort.

"I'm makin' us some blankets!" Willow replied as she drove a stick into the ground near the campfire, "whassit look like I'm doin?"

"B-but what are the st-sticks for?"

"Ah! So, I'm gonna try and dry em off using the fire, but I don't wanna throw em into it, cause I reckon they'll burn. And as nice s'that'd look, we kinda need em," Willow replied, driving another stick into the ground.

When she had set up all the sticks, they formed a rough square around the ashes of the old fire. Willow spent a few minutes rekindling until it was roaring merrily. Then she draped the blanket over the sticks, where it immediately slipped and fell onto the fire. Willow yanked it back, but the long, dry fur had already caught.

"Ah shit, ah shit, ah shit," Willow said, watching the fire start to spread with fascination.

"S-Stamp on it!" Wendy called, trying to yell, but only getting a coughing fit and a bit of blood for her troubles.

"But...it's so...god, do you smell that?" Willow asked. She got on her hands and knees, shoving her face into the flame and inhaling deeply, "oooooooohh..."

Willow began to rub her face against it, rolling the thick hair strands under her chin, feeling the fire lick her eyelids, the heat invade he throat. She breathed in again, and her eyelids fluttered in the fire. The smell of smoke, of fire, of burning. It ravaged her nostrils. The rest of her body rolled around on the ground, stretching and contorting with the tongues of flame. They spread down the carpet, and she pressed herself into the fire, feeling the hands of warmth boil her stomach, her legs, her arms, her skin. The light of the dancing flame was all she could see, the light given down to her as a gift. No, a right. She writhed in the flame and screamed, but there was no pain.

And then it was out. The fire ran its course, leaving Willow laying in a charred pile of ash. Her skin had been blackened with soot, with only her milky white eyes were recognisable amid the tangled mess. Wendy had her face in her hands, muttering something Willow couldn't hear. Willow sat up, feeling the still standing hairs crumble to ash beneath her weight. She got to her feet, and felt a cool breeze whistle through her hair. A cloud of dust drifted off of her, making it appear as if she too was disintegrating. She moved, very slowly, towards the other hide and picked it up. Feeling the weight in her hands, she held it up to her nose and inhaled once more. The smell was no less overwhelming, but the edge wasn't there. She threw the fur down and gagged, dry retching at the smell of this unburnt skin. After a minute of keeping her food down, she turned to Wendy, who had done her best to huddle beneath the poncho. She approached and heard only whimpers. Whimpers and tears. Willow's fists balled up. She wasn't scary. Why was Wendy trying to hide. She hadn't done anything. Wendy was overreacting. Wendy was a child. Wendy didn't understand how it felt. Now Willow wanted to cry. It wasn't her fault! Wendy didn't know anything! Wendy was just a little girl! How dare she be scared of Willow! How dare she hide from Willow!

Willow bathed in the stream for a long time. Even after all the soot had fallen away and her skin was starting to wrinkle. She didn't spend her time thinking. At least, not anything new. It was all emotion. They swirled around her head like a fireworks display in a tumble dryer.

Wendy stayed under that poncho for the rest of the day, or at least until Wilson took the reigns. He had the good sense to not jump around when he got control back, but that didn't mean the blood on his chin and tears on his cheeks didn't surprise him. He unfurled the poncho, surveying the scene that was their camp. The fire was still crackling away, but the real draw were the sticks. Had Willow been making a tent? He looked down, spotting the stretch of beefalo wool, which he took to be a yes. But why build the tent over a fire? Inevitably, his gaze landed on the charred husk. Of all the people with a sense of fire safety, surely Willow would've known what she was doing. Maybe she'd tried to build a spit for roasting meat, but gotten fed up? Had she been trying to cook the meat in a sort of hammock of fur? But then where was the meat? Had they already eaten it all? Wilson felt a pang of hunger shoot through his chest, answering his question.

"Willow? Are you there?" Wilson tried to call out, but he could not persuade his lungs to go above a hoarse whisper. He tried again, and a third time, but to no avail. On his fourth attempt, he heard a faint shuffling noise from a bush behind him, "Willow?"

The rustling noise froze, as it had for Wolfgang. Wilson chose now to be the time to find his voice, "Raaaar! I am a demon creature! You should not come closer, this weak form is only a trap!"

The rustling didn't fire up for a few minutes, and Wilson wondered if his bluff had worked. Only moments later did he hear the shuffling of grass.

"Did you not hear me foolish one? I am a demon of the highest order!" Wilson tried to sound confident and failed in incredible fashion. His voice shook like his hands, and it sounded so high pitched that you could've mistaken him for a very sick twelve year old.

The beast didn't stop this time, and Wilson curled up as he heard the footsteps continue to approach. His eyes shut, his body shook, and he held his breath, as if it would help. The footsteps were upon him now. The creature would no doubt be ready to tear him apart and eat him. It would only be finishing what this world had tried to do since day one. Oh the humanity of it all. He began to think of his wife, and how he hadn't even said goodbye. He braced himself for the grasp of the creature, knowing he'd never be able to fight back.

He still heard the footsteps, but they were growing...distant? Wilson pulled down the poncho, his eyes flickering open. Now he saw the beast, as Wolfgang had. A great pig-like creature, enormous snout, hunched back, thick pink skin, floppy triangular ears, the works. It was currently ripping chunks from the beefalo and shoving them into its mouth. Flecks of saliva and blood dribbled down its double chin, highlighting it's yellow, pointed teeth. Wilson stayed quiet, watching in morbid fascination as the beast had its fill. After half an hour it collapsed, snoring, into the grass. It was now that Wilson got a good look at this monster's face, and he gasped.

"Uncle Bradley?"

-

Willow trudged back. She had forgotten her clothes in her rush to get out of the camp. She was shivering now, arms folded and rubbing her shoulders to preserve her warmth. Her feet were hard and calloused by now, as Willow had always liked being barefoot. It felt freeing, as if she could feel the warmth of the earth between her toes, the fire of all things. But she wasn't feeling any warmth now. All her feet felt were the spiny edges of brambles and the uneven footing in the rocks. Never had the husk of a dead beast been such a welcome sight as she stumbled back into the camp.

However, her relief quickly changed to suspicion, "Wendy, what the hell is that?"

Wilson turned, eyes wide as the moon, and put a finger to his lips. Only than did he notice she was buck naked. He went an interesting shade of red and covered his face in his hands. Willow looked behind herself, trying to see what had scared Wilson so much. She crept closer to him and flicked him in the head, "Wendy, what the hell is that thing over there?"

Wilson peeked an eye out of his fingers, caught sight of her and blushed even harder, "For goodness sake Willow, put some clothes on!"

"Why? It's asleep! if we get one of the spears, we can kill it before it wakes up."

"Not as armour! Put some clothes on to cover yourself! Were you raised by bush camping nudists or something?"

"That doesn't seem like the biggest concern right now Willy!"

"It is to me! Please, put some clothes on!"

Willow rolled her eyes and spun about in place. She rooted around for her clothes and pulled everything on as fast as she could, getting her head stuck in the arm hole at least twice. When she was finally dressed, she flicked Wilson's head harder than before, "alright fussy britches, I'm done, y'can look now."

Wilson flicked an eye open and seemed to calm down a bit. At least until he remembered the giant pig beast.

"This is some sort of pig monster or pig man. It walked right into camp even after I tried to chase it away. It helped itself to the beefalo meat until it fell over and went to sleep," Wilson explained, trying to sit upright on the log. He didn't manage it, but he was now leaning on his arm, looking up at Willow.

"And why didn'tcha kill it while it was sleeping?"

"I thought it would wake up if got too close," Wilson replied, not meeting Willow's gaze, "anyway, we cannot kill it."

"I'm pretty sure we can. Two good stabs and its pork for dinner," Willow replied, grabbing up a spear.

"No!" Wilson yelled louder than he'd intended to. They both froze, watching the pig beast as it stirred. Its sleeping form shuffled about in the grass, and it rolled onto its back. After a few seconds, it settled again. Wilson began to whisper, "No no, we need to study it!"

"Dude. How're we gonna study this thing? The cave is miles away, and we can't move a corpse, let alone an unconscious pigman."

"Well we should at least find where this pig goes home to. If we know that, we might be able to find it again."

"Alright smart guy, how do you propose we do that?"

Wilson told her. She was to scamper away and hide just outside of the clearing. Far enough away that Wilson could not see her, but close enough that she could still see the pig. Then, they waited until the pig awoke. Several hours later it climbed to its feet, took a few more bites of the carcass, and began to trudge away. Now Willow began to move, circling around the clearing, using the trees as cover, until she reached where the pig had walked away.

She crept through the underbrush, making as little noise as possible. Every so often, she would catch glimpses of the creature. It was like a lumbering pink Boulder carving through the forest. This monster was easily double her size, and yet Willow had scarcely an issue keeping pace. In fact, more than once she had gotten too close and arose suspicion. She'd held her breath in panic as the beast perked its ears up and sniffed the air. It's sense of smell can't have been good, because it never caught her.

After three hours of walking, Willow was starting to wonder if this creature had actually seen her and was leading her on some wild goose chase. She glanced about, looking for anything that might be following her, and the shadows seemed to come alive beneath her gaze. She kept walking, if only to please her and Wilson's curiosity. Even still, by the end of it all her neck was damp with sweat. Finally, she caught sight of light, signifying an end to the forest. Up ahead, the pig burst out and into...

Willow ran the last leg, pushing through the underbrush just to see what she thought must be a mirage. But there it was, clear as the setting sun behind it. A village.

Tall spindly houses dotted the landscape with no real rhyme of reason, and patches of vegetables grew everywhere. Cobbled brick paths wound through the village in confusing patterns, and a strange windmill structure sat in the middle of it all. All throughout, pig men, pig women and pig children seemed to bustle through the streets. Willow ducked behind a bush to avoid being spotted, and surveyed the scene. The one she had been following disappeared between the houses, and Willow had half a mind to follow him. But she stayed hidden, watching them. She'd never really seen a village before, but she was aware of what houses were. They were so misshapen and wooden, making a stark contrast to the uniform, ugly cubes of living spaces she was used to. Willow watched the scene, drinking in as many answers to the questions she had and Wilson was bound to ask, before turning around and heading back the way she came.

-

Night was fast approaching, and Willow had not returned. Wilson had slumped himself on the ground in order to grab the enormous woollen duvet Willow had not burnt. He was now much cosier, and the rough ground did not sting quite so much, but the fire was getting low. Wilson watched with mounting panic as the sun began to drift downwards in parallel with the dying flames. Wilson struggled, his body wracked with pain as he tried to grab sticks and bring them back to the fire. It was slow work, taking two hours at least, but he managed to get enough sticks to reignite the fire.
It was a tiny, yellow tongue of flame. It was nothing compared to the roaring great fires that Willow could conjure, but it did the job. As night fell, the only light came from the weak campfire, barely strong enough to light the two metres around it, and certainly not enough to keep Wilson warm. He did not mind. He kept looking into the darkness, trying to peer through its veil and find something. He shook from the cold as an unseasonal breeze whistled through the camp, threatening to snuff out his baby fire.
Wilson didn't see that, as his personality seemed to shift with the wind, leaving behind WX-78. Wex stared about the camp, stared at the darkness, and stared at the fire. All with the expression of a face drawn onto a rock with a sharpie. He tried to stand up, and although his muscles twinged, his skin burned and his head ached, none of it could stop him. He walked to the very edges of the camp where Wilson would've had to crawl, and began collecting sticks again. He worked tirelessly, finding sticks and using them to expand the range of the light so that he could find even more sticks. When he was finished, the tower of sticks and flame was almost as tall as he was.
WX took a seat back on the log, looked into the fire, and smiled.

-

Willow held her torch high above her head, being very careful not to set the forest on fire. If it had been hard to navigate this place in the day, it was an ordeal to do at night. Beaten tracks and paths all seemed to leave dead ends or double back on themselves. The coos of birds were haunting and only served to distract. The foliage seemed so dense in places that she had no idea what she could walk through and what was solid.

Finally, she seemed to find it. An enormous clearing, so so much more massive than Shitbug camp. She looked for the beefalo carcass or that creepy tree, but found neither. It was a completely new one. There was no way the torchlight would show her what was so special about this place, just because of its size alone. Willow stepped into the clearing, and her foot brushed against a mushroom. The mushroom began to glow blue, growing brighter by the moment. Two more popped up either side of it, glowing to match the intensity of the first. Then two more, then two more, then two more, until there was a huge, glowing ring of blue, illuminating the clearing. And in the centre of it all sat a gigantic statue.
Willow stared at this statue for a long time. It wasn't that it was hard to see, being almost twice her size in both height and length. Nor was it particularly magical, being carved of simple stone with no gems or strange effects. No, it was just so...odd. At first, it appeared to be a fly, with bulbous eyes and tiny wings. But even by the statues depiction, it was fuzzy, almost more fluff than creature, and it's eyes seemed far to numerous and haphazardly placed. It had no mouth that Willow could see, only short, sharp legs, more like teeth hanging beneath it than actual limbs. Then there were its wings. No way could any creature that big have wings so miniscule. Even for this place, this creature had to be a fiction. But then why make a statue? Had there been other humans here, ones good enough at masonry and deep enough into a fever dream to carve this strange beast?

Willow didn't care, and didn't really want those answers, so she turned on her heel, skirted about the ring of mushrooms, and made a break for it into the forest. Once again, everything seemed endlessly confusing, with dead ends and obstructions and low hanging branches and...

She was back. She'd found Wilson, yet again. But her eyes were not drawn to him, but instead the tower of flame before him. It had burnt down to her eye level, but was no less magnificent for it. She walked closer, a string of drool falling from her mouth as she watched it flicker and twist like an exotic dancer. She was within its range, so close she could reach out and caress it's burning face...

"HELLO WILLOW."

Willow snapped back to reality at the grating sound of Wex's voice. She turned to look at him, as if seeing him for the first time. He was sitting, hunched over the fire, staring up at her from behind his steepled hands.

"Hey wex, what's up?"

Wex extended a finger upwards.

"You know what I mean asshat," Willow folded her arms, just missing a flicker of a smile from Wex. She gestured to the fire, "did you make this? I thought Wilson was too weak to stand up?"

"A NORMAL HUMAN WOULD STRUGGLE TO FUNCTION UNDER THE CONDITIONS OF THIS FORM, BUT I AM NOT HUMAN," Wex leaned back, picking up a stick and tossing it into the pile. The fire snapped it up, as if it were a living beast, "WHY? WOULD YOU HAVE ME FREEZE?"

"You know I wouldn't, I was just surprised is all," Willow walked around the fire to the felled beefalo. Using a spear, she carved out two chunks of meat and threw them on top of the fire. They sizzled immediately, "This is a chat I wanted to have with Wilson, but if you're out, you'll have to do. We need to leave this place. There's food and water here, but not safety. We need to carve off as much of the beefalo as I can carry and we need to get back to the cave."

Wex listened as she spoke, watching her with the eyes that didn't fit him, "I UNDERSTAND. BUT WHAT OF THE BEAST? IT IS A VALUABLE SOURCE OF HUMAN FUEL."

"We call that food mate, and yeah, it is, but it's not worth what's been happenin'. Between beefalo, wolves and pig men, this place is just gonna to get us killed," Willow replied, flipping over a sizzling bit of meat, "plus, with this huge fire..."

Willow trailed off, her gaze back to the roaring flame. She moved her hand from the meat, running it over the bumpy edge of the sticks.

"DID YOU HAVE MORE TO SAY?"

"Ah, crap, yeah, uh... Oh! Now that we've built this," she gestured to the flames her hands were still in, "this place is running low on good wood."

"HOW WILL YOU MOVE THIS FORM? TO TAKE THIS BODY ANY DISTANCE WOULD LIKELY DAMAGE IT FURTHER."

"Honestly, I was hoping you could give me some ideas. If you managed to do this, wouldn't you be able to walk us back?"

"DO YOU KNOW THE WAY?"

"Uh... God... Y'know I think it was..." Willow shook her head, "I forget."

"EVEN IF YOU KNEW THE WAY, THE MODE OF TRANSPORT I EMPLOY WOULD ULTIMATELY DESTROY THIS BODY," Wex replied, "WHILE I DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE THE SENSATION OF THIS FLESH, I WOULD STILL NOT BE CAPABLE OF MOVING THE BODY SHOULD IT'S ORGANS FAIL."

Willow nodded and sighed, poking the meat with her finger. Once satisfied, she hefted them both out of the fire and tossed one to Wex. The smell of burnt flesh was immediate, and Willow spotted smoke rising from Wex's skin.

"Drop it dude!"

Wex obliged, and the hunk meat hits the ground. The grass, soot and dirt cling to it in an instant. Meanwhile, Willow inspected Wex's quickly reddening hand, "I think I'm startin' to see whatcha mean."

Wex looked at her, then down at his hand. With his other hand, he reached down and picked up the meat.

"No dude, drop it!" Willow yelled before the burning began again. Wex dropped it again, "Listen, I'll grab you another piece."

"NEGATIVE. THIS MEAT IS STILL EDIBLE."

"It's been dropped on the ground. You're not actually going to eat off the ground are you?"

"THE GROUND IS AS NATURAL AS THE MEAT."

"Yeah, but you're a fuckin' bot in a human! That meat is gonna make you sick!"

"INCORRECT. THE MEAT HAS BEEN WELL COOKED, AND ANY TOXINS WILL HAVE BEEN EXPELLED."

"Yeah, but it got dirty after I cooked it!"

"IT WILL REPEL TOXINS DUE TO IT'S HIGH STORED HEAT."

"Do ya know that, or do ya think that?"

Wex said nothing, but the moment Willow leaned down to stop the fire overflowing, he snatched up the meat.

"Oi! What'd I just say?"

"SPOILED FOOD IS STILL FOOD."

"Dude, this thing is enormous, I can get you more food if you're that hungry. Aren't you robots supposed to be all logical and shit?"

"I AM LOGICAL. IT IS ILLOGICAL TO WASTE GOOD FUEL, THEREFORE I SHOULD CONSUME THIS MEAT. IF YOU ARE IMMUNE TO THE EFFECTS OF FLAME, IS IT NOT POSSIBLE THAT THIS FORM IS IMMUNE TO THE EFFECTS OF FOOD POISONING?"

"Given his current situation, I'd rather not check!"

"DOCTOR DICKBUTT WAS A SCIENTIST, PROGRAMMING ME WITH THE SAME MORALS AND THOUGHT PROCESSES. IT IS NECESSARY THAT WE TEST THESE THINGS TO REDUCE WASTE."

"We have a giant dead animal made of more fuel than we can eat, there's no way you need that bit of meat so badly that you can't just ignore it!"

Wex looked from her to the meat, and stuffed it into his mouth before Willow could stop him. He chewed and chewed, gulping it down in seconds.

"Wex!" Willow roared, standing up and looming over the fire with her hands raised.

Wex lifted his own hands to defend himself, "DO NOT. THIS BODY CANNOT SUSTAIN MORE DAMAGE."

"That was my point you bolt-for-brains fuckwit!" Willow screamed, her face coming through the fire, her glassy eyes glinting in the flame, "you can't just fucking poison yerself cuz you're too stubborn to take my advice!"

"I CANNOT BE POISONED."

"Maybe not when you were a robot, but you ain't a robot anymore you dense clusterfuck of stupid!" Willow jammed a finger into Wex's bare chest, "You're human! Y'hear that you bastard? You're human, and so is everyone else in that head of yours! This ain't about you, it's about Wolfgang, Willy, even that Wendy girl! Every decision you make, every burned finger, every choked morsel, every dirt covered steak, that affects all of them!"

Wex just stared at her. Only, it wasn't Wex anymore.

"Willow..."

"Willy?" Willow came back to earth. She was leaning on top of the fire, an outstretched hand still held against Wilson's chest. Her eyes stung, but not from the heat. She turned her head, pulling herself out of the fire and back to her log. She looked into the darkness, "M'sorry."

"I understand."

"Dunno if you do."

"Yes I do. You want to keep me safe."

"..."

"Am I wrong?"

"You keep doin' things. Stupid, stupid things. Ain'tchu s'posed to be smart?" Willow looked at him, over the flames that dwindled lower by the second. The once mighty fire slowly reducing to ashy sticks, "if y'are, y'do a bad job a' showin' it. Ya think ya know everythin, that's the only way I can explain it. Ya think just cuz you read some books, that nothin'll hurt ya."

"I do not think-"

"No. No ya don't. Ya think you're this...machine. Cool, calculated, watchin' everythin. But yer here. Yer here, yer hurt, and yer not makin' it better."

"What would you have me do? Mend my bones with magic?"

"Oh don'tchu start that shit. Who threw me in front of those beefalo? Who didn't tell me they'd never fought a wolf? Ya thought Wolfgang was yer destructive personality, but you're only alive right now cuz the rest of us know what we're doin'."

"Then who were you yelling at?"

"..."

"Well?"

"Wex. He ate some meat off the ground."

Wilson gagged, clutching his throat, "What?!"

"It was cooked."

"How does that make it better?"

"Well, it would've gone rid of the bugs and shit."

"Oh, so he dropped it and then you cooked it?"

"That would've been smart..."

Wilson began to try to stick his finger down his throat, but was too disgusted to actually poke the back of his throat. After a few minutes of frantic panic he turned to Willow, who was just watching him, "how are you so calm? He just poisoned me!"

"Well, I'm thinkin', wouldn't ya have thrown it up if it was really gonna hurt ya?"

"Not if I swallowed some weird virus!"

"Well, we're just gonna have to deal with that later."

"No! I need to get it out now!"

"Look, if ya can make yerself throw up, then more power to ya, but I'm goin' ta bed."

Willow turned over, her limbs feeling leaden. Wilson stared at her, hoping she had been joking. After ten minutes, when Willow's chest began to rise and fall with a calm rhythm, Wilson rolled over and tried to sleep too.