Sir omnom - I'm afraid that this story was planned out long before the Reign of Giants DLC came out so sadly there won't be any of that stuff included in it.

Cameron - While I did consider adding other characters, I've decided against it. The reason being that the main five are already splitting up the spotlight pretty drastically as is. If more were included, the story would likely become overly cluttered without adding much. Thank you for the suggestion though.

Disclaimer: I don't own Don't Starve or any of the characters.

The generally depressing atmosphere in the cabin was only made worse by the constant sound of the rain pounding down on the roof. It was a ceaseless, inescapable, drumming that wormed its way into Wendy's ears like grave maggots burrowing into a corpse. Perhaps not unlike the corpse of the unfortunate individual that had built this place.

The group had chosen to give Wickerbottom's remains a wide berth and leave them undisturbed. This was done partially out of respect for the fallen survivor, and partially out of a superstitious fear of some reprisal from beyond the grave.

There was only one room in the cabin, so space was a slight issue. Wilson had cleared out an area near the doorway, sweeping aside all flammable objects so that a small fire might be constructed on the dirt floor. The tiny flame gave a small amount of comfort to those around it. Even if it only offered a minimal amount of warmth, it sped up the rate at which their clothing dried and helped to block out the constant sound of the rain.

Wendy had consigned herself to sitting a small distance away from the fire, using the combined light of the flickering embers and her sister's luminescence to read from the second book the skeleton had been holding. The others had already looked inside, peering questioningly at the writing.

Wilson had been the first to dismiss it. In his words it was "nothing more than a bunch of nonsensical gibberish." Willow and Wolfgang backed up his assertion, neither realizing what was actually being said in those pages.

But Wendy knew. She could read the words inside the words. She could see the flowing structures of power built into every letter. There was so much hidden energy that it almost hurt to look upon, but she pushed on regardless. The words of the occult whispered to her, granting her solace from the ever present fall of the rain.

Wendy sighed softly as she turned another page. She wished she could have met the person who wrote it in the flesh. Whoever Wickerbottom had been, they'd tapped into a source of power that she herself had only started to explore. It was exhilarating to hold such power in her hands.

She kept the book's true nature a secret of course. Wilson and Willow wouldn't understand, and she couldn't be too sure about Wolfgang either. They all still saw her as a child, and in their misguided attempts to shelter her they'd no doubt take the tome away. With time, she was sure she could learn how to use it to her own ends.

Wendy smiled to herself. Soon she'd be able to beat Maxwell at his own game.

For a time, the only sounds that could be heard was the pounding rain, the crackle of the fire, the soft crinkle of turning pages, and the regular breathing of the survivors as they all slowly drifted off to sleep.

Feeling herself starting to fall under the sandman's spell, Wendy fought to keep her eyes open. There was still so much she wanted to learn from the book. She knew it was foolish to try and fit the whole experience into a single night, but that wouldn't stop her from trying.

Stifling a yawn, she fixed her eyes on the pages only to feel the breathy annoyance building up in her chest regardless of her efforts. It worked its way up her throat, catching as she struggled to keep it down. A silent battle of wills occurred between the girl and her fatigue, but its outcome was never truly in doubt.

Despite her need to learn more the yawn finally broke free, filling the cabin with the sound of her broken resistance. Slumping in defeat, she closed the book and placed it underneath her head as a sort of makeshift pillow. If she couldn't finish it tonight, at least it was close at hand.

It felt so comfortable to have a roof over her head. Having spent the better part of several months enduring the elements, Wendy had grown accustomed to suffering through near-sleepless nights when it rained. Hearing the pattering sound of drops breaking outside soon turned into a kind of lullaby. Its soothingly simply noises carried her away as her eyelids dropped. Little by little, she felt herself fading away from the conscious world.

…

What was that?

Regretfully, Wendy cracked one eyelid open to check on the others. They were all still in their positions near the fire where they had fallen asleep. That was odd. She could have sworn she'd heard-

There it was again!

Now fully awake, she sat up and strained her ears against the downpour outside to detect the disturbance. It took a moment, but she was soon able to discern a sound that stood out from the ambient noise.

A squelch of mud. A snap of twigs. The shuffling of something moving outside. Wendy's mind rapidly worked to put the pieces together, coming to a single terrifying conclusion. Before the shout of warning had even left her mouth, her fears were confirmed.

The door exploded inwards.

The deafening sound of wood smashing against wood jarred Wilson from his slumber instantly. The scientist shot to his feet so quickly that it made his head spin, but his efforts were well warranted. Were it not for the painfully real sensations around him, he would have thought he was having a nightmare.

Standing in the ruined doorway was a massive pig-man. Unlike the one's he'd come to associate with though, this one looked nothing short of terrifying.

Rippling muscle replaced the rolls of fat that had defined his portly builders. Built like an ox, the pig-warrior glared down at the scientist through tiny eyes and red war paint. Its mouth was twisted into an angry snarl that pulled back to show large, overly sharp, teeth. Not at all the kind of dental anatomy he'd expect from something that ate mostly plant foods. In place of the woven reeds that had acted as clothing on the friendly pigs, this one was decorated by tribal bone jewelry and what looked to be tied leather strips.

Letting out a bloodcurdling roar, the pig-beast made a truly gruesome declaration.

"Meat for king!"

Wilson's hand darted to his knife, drawing the sharpened blade just in time to see Abigail rocket forward and blast into the pig. The creature's battle cry quickly turned to a howl of pain as its skin rapidly withered away wherever the ghost touched it. It was hurled back through the open doorway, clearing a path for the survivors.

"Everyone up! We need to go, now!" Wilson shouted, having glimpsed more of the pig-warriors through the opening. "Move! Move! Move!"

The strongman and the two girls didn't need further encouragement. Knowing that staying put would only get them trapped, they all dashed through the doorway. The sight that greeted them outside was like something out of a horror story.

The house had been surrounded on all sides by the pigs. Each savage looking warrior was adorned with numerous tribal markings that gave the silent promise of violence. They carried torches strapped to their backs in order to both ward off the darkness and bathe themselves in a hellish glow. How the flames managed to stay lit in the rain, Wilson could only guess.

Abigail was currently darting to and from them, fighting to clear a way for her living companions.

The pigs however, were giving as good as they got. They attacked back with ferocious single-mindedness, exchanging fierce blows with the phantom each time she closed in. Each hit caused her form to shatter and reshape itself like the surface of a pond. Unlike the water however, she was growing visibly weaker. The strikes kept raining down heavily, leaving her less and less time to recover.

Wilson wasn't sure what would happen when she couldn't pull herself back together again, but he had no intention of finding out.

"Follow me! Break for the woods!" Escaping into the forest in the dead of night didn't sound like the smartest idea but staying here was just suicidal. They had to escape their hunters somehow and maybe there was a small chance that whatever lurked in the dark hadn't followed them through the doorway.

Lightning erupted nearby, burning the image of a dozen raging pig-men into his retinas. Using the sudden brightness to its fullest, he directed the group towards an opening that had opened up as more of the creatures swarmed towards Abigail.

The four of them dashed past the pigs who realized too late that their spectral opponent was only buying time for the others. With them out of the circle, Abigail shot into the air and out of reach of the enraged beasts.

Wilson ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards the darkened tree line. He braced himself to enter the pitch black night, but the pigs had other ideas. They were sprinting after the humans, rapidly gaining as they dropped down on all fours and launched themselves like a pack of ravenous wolves. The light from their torches held the dark at bay, but that was only a small comfort in the face of their aggression.

The scientist risked a glance over his shoulder to see just how fast they were approaching. What he witnessed nearly gave him a heart attack. In the span of several heartbeats the pigs had more than made up for the head start that their prey had taken. They were almost on top of the fleeing group.

"Willow! Behind you!"

His panicked warning didn't reach the young woman in time. She had only just started to turn her head when the frontrunner of the pig-men bashed her to the ground with a nasty sideswipe. Before she'd even stopped rolling another of the savages was on top of her.

Wendy opened her mouth to shout something only to have one of the pigs shoot in from the side and wrap a meaty arm around her neck while hoisting her into the air. The girl's strangled gasps sparked a violent screech of rage from Abigail who fell upon the monster with furious brutality. The beast used its free arm to try beating back the vengeful spirit while keeping up the pressure on her sister's windpipe.

Wilson ground to a halt, his shoes digging into the muddy earth as he used is full weight to stop his momentum.

"Let them go!" His scream cut through the deluge of rain as he charged back towards the pigs. One of the bulkier specimens answered his cry with a roar of its own, bulldozing towards him at full speed.

The smart thing to do would have been to try and adjust course, but the sight of his companions in mortal danger filled Wilson's mind with adrenaline and wiped away such complex thoughts. He gripped his knife tightly, accidentally pressing his thumb down onto the gem that had been infused into its handle.

No sooner had he touched the jewel than an agonizing sensation tore through his mind. Caught entirely unprepared, Wilson screamed in anguish as a thousand invisible tendrils clawed at the inside of his head as though trying to worm their way into his thoughts. He instinctively tried drawing his consciousness away from the alien beings, severing his link to the gem with a desperate yank.

He didn't get the chance to ponder what had just happened. Using his distraction to its advantage, the pig rammed into him like a truck made of meat. The impact blasted the air from his lungs and hurled him bodily into the mud.

Wilson hardly had time to regain his bearings before a heavy blow to the back of the head wiped away sensation entirely.

Wolfgang's heart pounded against his chest like a jackhammer as he fled. He'd never run so fast before in his life, but he could already tell that it wasn't enough. The light from the pig torch was getting closer and even his mighty legs couldn't compete with a monster running on four limbs like that. He was truly terrified.

As the trees started to thicken around him, he was forced to slow down by the tiniest fraction to avoid hitting one. This minor opening gave his hunter the opportunity it needed. Nearly six hundred pounds of fleshy muscle crashed into his back, propelling him forward and down into the ground.

Thankfully, the strongman's time in the circus proved invaluable in that moment. His training had ensured that he knew how to take a fall.

He hit the soggy soil rolling, using the pig's forward inertia to throw it off of him. The creature tumbled head over heels before crashing to a halt. It was back on its feet almost instantly, and the spill had done very little to improve its mood. It glared out at him, squealing in anger as it charged again.

Wolfgang held his hammer in a two handed grip, jumping forwards with energy that was half survival instincts and half desperation. He let out a wordless yell, swinging the stone tool with all of his strength.

The hammer cracked sharply with the sound of breaking bone as it smashed into the base of the pig's skull, pulverizing the berserk pseudo-human flat into the dirt. He held his breath for a moment, waiting for it to leap up and attack again.

It didn't.

Wolfgang collapsed down, sinking slightly into the mud. His hammer fell from nerveless hands as he drew his knees up to his chest and moaned pitifully. He couldn't stop shaking.

They were gone. They were all gone. His friends… his companions… all taken by these freakish creatures.

And he'd left them behind.

He hadn't meant for it to happen, but the others hadn't kept up with him. They'd been caught long before he even realized they were no longer by his side, and at that point it was far too late to do anything to help them. They'd been stolen away and he hadn't so much as tried to save them.

Wolfgang lay there in a miserable heap next to the dead pig for the rest of the night. He didn't notice when the light from the torch finally started to die. He didn't notice as the darkness crept dangerously close, nor was he aware that a shadowy end was mere inches away from him by the time the sun peeked over the horizon. He knew nothing until the thick heat of the day roused him from his stupor.

The strongman rose from the muck, not like a burning phoenix, but rather like a desiccated zombie crawling up from its grave. His face bore the strain of the guilt he'd been subject to during the night.

What was he meant to do? Go after them? He couldn't fight those… those things! Just the thought of their monstrous forms and hate filled glares made him want to curl up and hide. Not to mention they outnumbered him drastically. He might be the mighty, but he was still only one man. Even he had his limits.

He couldn't simply leave them to their fates either. They were his friends; he owed them for all that they had done for him. He knew that none of them would abandon him to the mercy of some sickly twisted beast-men.

Wolfgang whimpered, sinking down once more as standing became too much of a burden. He was torn. Neither option could end well. One led to certain death at the hands of the pigs, while the other offered a miserable survival followed by a very probable death by whatever other nightmares lurked in the world he was trapped in.

What is there to be afraid of if death can't touch you?

Wilson's words slapped him upside the head like a sack of bricks. Blinking several times, he looked down at the necklace that still hung over his chest. The so called 'life amulet' that he'd been gifted with.

He took the medallion up in a trembling hand, examining its crimson center with a sorrowful gaze. Very slowly, his fingers curled inwards over it.

A deep breath tore itself from Wolfgang's chest as he closed his eyes. Opening them once more, a fire burned inside his heart. The strongman picked his hammer back up, his features hardening into a stone expression of determination.

He would find the others. He would get them back. He was Wolfgang, the strongest man alive and nobody would endanger his friends and get away with it. If he had to smash through a legion of pig-men to save them then you could be sure that he'd do just that.

It took three hours for Wolfgang to locate the pig village. The only reason he was able to find it at all was due to the enormous plume of smoke that rose a mile into the air being given off by the massive bonfire at its center.

The congregation was massive. Nearly one hundred huts dotted the center of a giant clearing. The pigs all bustled around as they made ready to accommodate their new prisoners.

Willow, Wendy, and Wilson had been trapped in wooden cages near the fire. Of Abigail, there was no sign. Judging by the bones that littered the area, they weren't being kept alive just because the pigs were feeling merciful. They were going to become the main dishes in what looked to be a ritual feast.

That is, unless Wolfgang saved them.

He'd watched the campsite from the relative safety of the trees, observing as much as he could without being spotted. By all accounts, things looked grim.

He was absurdly outnumbered and there was absolutely no chance of him winning a head on fight with so many. To even try would be a death sentence. He had to figure out a way to even the odds when he was down almost a hundred to one.

And then there was the king to consider…

There was no mistaking the pig king in this village, even if he was drastically different from the dreadfully obese creature that had ruled the others.

This beast was an absolute terror. He stood a full ten feet tall, his entire body seemingly bulging with barely contained muscles. Even the largest pig-warrior looked minuscule by comparison.

While that alone would have been enough to crack Wolfgang's nerves under normal circumstances, it got worse from there. In addition to his size, the pig king was wearing some kind of armor. Its dull bronze plating reminded him of something he'd once read about indigenous tribes. It had intricate designs that matched the ones on his helmet.

As a final disturbing addition to the hulking display, the pig king's front legs didn't end in the cloven hooves that his soldiers had. Instead, hairy pink fingers extended outwards and wrapped around a massive club that appeared to be made out of the same material as his armor. For all intents and purposes, the king was equipped like a military general.

Despite the daunting nature of his task, Wolfgang was not about to turn back. The others were depending on him and he wouldn't let them down. He needed a plan, and as luck would have it inspiration was quick in coming to him.

The village was sheltered on one side by a massive hill that extended out of the clearing. The uprising, likely sheltering them from intense winds, jogged his memory and reminded him of the hill he'd been standing on when he first met Willow.

A surprisingly clever idea forming in his mind, Wolfgang set off to start climbing. It was time to put his might to work.