Wilson's teeth were banging together so loudly that he woke himself up, causing him to jolt a bit. The jolt caused him to bite his own lip, which in turn made him splutter in surprise, which turned into a cough. After a few minutes, Wilson was able to take a few breaths, but the air was cold. Painfully cold. Wilson looked over and found the fire-pit dwindling into ashes. He whipped his head about, looking for Willow, but he didn't find her. He sighed. He knew she'd come back, he knew she'd be fine, and he knew that he could keep the fire going. Even still, he couldn't help but worry.

That, and God was it boring. No-one to talk to and nothing to see but the campfire. Wilson would've killed for his journal. He figured it had probably been destroyed up in the cave. Perhaps blown out by a gust of wind or something. Wilson sighed again and poked the flames. At least you won't leave me, he thought.

"Yo! Willy!"

Wilson spun about, shrieked, and fell backward, "Clothes, Willow! Where are your clothes!"

"Right here," Willow ran over and presented her poncho-pack, "anyway, I've got something important t' ask. Do ya think y'can make a pickaxe?"

"I do not know, now could you please put those clothes back on," Wilson asked as Willow crashed on top of the flames, "how are you naked anyway? it is freezing!"

"Ah, well my clothes weren't that warm."

"So you just took them off?"

"Nah, I set m'self on fire," Willow explained, pulling her shirt on. The wood cracked beneath her shifting weight, sending up sparks.

Wilson looked like he wanted to argue with that, but he gave up, "so hang on, why do you need a pickaxe?"

"I found gold! Huge boulders, fulla gold!"

"My goodness," Wilson stroked his chin, his embarrassed grimace giving way to his more natural inquisitiveness, "how big are these boulders?"

"God, musta been up to here on me," Willow stood up and reached her hand as high above her head as it would go.

"Well that's fantastic! With that much gold, I can use it as a conductor," Willow smiled, his eyes lighting up, "Willow, I can go home!"

"Fuck yeah!" Willow said, causing Wilson to wince, "and then you'll get me home, right?"

"Of course. Now, grab me that Flint. Let me see if I can make that pickaxe."


Twenty minutes later, after making a new spear and another axe, Wilson was holding a pickaxe. It was as sharp as the spear, with excellent balance and weight. Willow gave it a few swings, testing it out as it cleaved through the air.

"Man Willy, you make some beautiful stuff."

"I have to agree," Wilson said, watching the pick move, "now, before you leave, show me how you set yourself alight."

"Y'sure y'wanna see that? Ain'tchu gotta wife?"

Wilson took a deep breath, sitting himself up as straight as his pained spine would allow, "this is for science."

Willow gave him a sideways glance, "a'ight, don't have a heart attack, okay?"

Willow wandered out of sight of the camp for a moment, and returned with an armful of twine and grass. She dumped it near the campfire, before stripping the evergreens of their leaves. As she began to undress, yanking off her shirt and skirt, Wilson's neck began to go a curious shade of red. In a moment, it was all over, and Willow had strapped the leaves around her torso. She wrapped it around her head, then legs, then finished up on the arms with some help from Wilson. Finally, she was ready, looking like a tiny tree if not for the eyeholes she'd cut into the leaves.

For the final touch, she belly flopped onto the fire, where her upper body immediately caught. She stowed the pick in her insulated bag as her arms began to catch, waved Wilson goodbye, and began to run back to the gold.

"I can't believe that was in my brain.."