Poppies - Thank you for the encouragement and kind words. I was honestly surprised when I saw that there was only a hundred stories for Don't Starve. It seems like the kind of fandom that would have a lot more than that. I'll do my best to keep living up to expectations.

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

Cold. Dark. Cold. Snow. Quiet. Cold. Empty.

Wendy's mind was having starting to have trouble processing even the most basic of stimuli. Conscious thought had long since left her, and now she was hardly even aware of Abigail's worried presence at her side. Her departed sister knew that something was terribly wrong, but she was helpless to do anything about it. She couldn't directly aid the freezing girl and leaving her to go find help would have been a death sentence even without the things that lurked in the dark. Her light was the only thing keeping Wendy safe right now.

Limbs numb, awareness clouded, and body starting to fail, the young blonde slogged through the ocean of white powder. Her entire frame shook with shivering that made her teeth jar painfully against one another. She strove forward regardless, no longer even fully aware of why she was moving. There had been a goal at one point, but the nature of it was long gone from her mind.

After an indiscernible amount of time, her footsteps came to a halt. She swayed gently while trying to figure out exactly what it was that had caught her attention. Several more moments and her fatigued eyes were able to make out the shape of a large rock outcropping with a small cavern cut into the side.

Cave. Shelter. Warm.

Wendy's mind clung to the simple concepts, causing her to push forwards once again. It was funny how the idea of getting out of the wind and cold could have such an effect. Had she been more cognizant she might have noticed the sudden drive towards the opening. As it was, she merely continued onwards in her near catatonic state with the same single-mindedness that she'd had previously.

"Wendy! Where are you!? Can you hear me!? Say something!"

Wilson's shouts echoed into the night, returning as nothing but silence as they drifted away. With Willow's lighter clutched tightly in his palms, he'd been searching for the better part of an hour with little success. The lack of light made following the tracks of the giant much more difficult, and the snowfall was quickly erasing the trail.

The scientist cursed under his breath as a stiff breeze whipped across his body and hurled snowflakes into his face. He huddled over the tiny flame of the lighter, not for warmth but to keep the flickering source of illumination alive in the gale.

When the wind died down, he was once again left standing in the dark with no idea how to go on. He couldn't stay still as every passing moment put Wendy in more danger. He couldn't keep going like this either as the cold was already starting to seep through his trifling defenses. His fur hat kept his head warm enough, but the rest of him was woefully under insulated against the elements.

With a miserable sigh, he continued pressing on after the rapidly vanishing trail.

Maybe she slipped away from that thing. He thought to himself, trying to keep his hope alive. She's small, and she can be quick when she needs to be. She must have right? Otherwise I should be able to hear it stomping around. Come to think of it, shouldn't I hear it anyway?

As his thoughts turned to the mysterious absence of noise, he became dimly aware that something was off. Wilson stopped short, peering into the darkness in order to determine what was nagging at the back of his mind. In the poorly lit snow world, it almost felt like the shadows were starting to close in on him.

With a start, he realized that was exactly what they were doing.

Wilson's eyes shot down towards his palms with dread rising in his throat. His fears were confirmed when he saw the dwindling fire of the lighter as it began to waver. Three minor flickers, a shuddering sputter, and suddenly the tiny blaze went out, plunging him into almost total blackness.

"No, no, no!" He shouted, desperately trying to flick the device back to life. "Not now! You can't just die on me now! You've been working for so long; you can't just run out of fuel now!"

The metallic object, being inanimate and thus having no concept of mortal peril or human assumptions, failed to relight itself. It gave off minute amount of light with each spark that was shaped by the grinding metal parts, but the oil inside had been burned away.

A chilling dread ran through his system as he realized the futility in trying to reignite what had long since burned out. The darkness fell upon him like an avalanche, smothering, covering, drowning, and absolute. The meager light of the stars and moon did next to nothing to pierce it.

Wilson closed his eyes, bringing the lighter up to his forehead and silently fighting to keep his breathing in line. Panic wouldn't help him now. He needed to figure out a new way to create light. There were still the supplies in his backpack, and the lighter was giving off sparks when he struck it, maybe he could craft a hasty torch to help light his way? Yes, that sounded like the best course of action.

He stowed the near-useless tool away and started reaching around to remove his pack when something stopped him. It wasn't a noise, or a smell, or even a physical sensation. It was more of a sudden alertness. The subconscious warnings of possible trouble.

Someone was watching him.

"Wendy? Is that you?" The scientist called, hope rising tentatively in his chest. There was no answer, but the presence of the other being became significantly more pronounced. A sharp sense of danger entered his mind, wiping away all other concerns and making it painfully clear that whoever this was, it wasn't one of his friends.

Wilson knew he was in trouble when the darkness started moving.

"What in the world…"

It didn't seem possible but the shadows grew even thicker, blotting out the miniscule ambient light of the night sky and cascading around him in a wave of impermeable emptiness. He was helplessly swept along in its tide, being hurled around in the whirling void while remaining firmly in one place.

When the attack came, it came without warning. He'd been just about to open his mouth to try calling out again when a sudden, brutal impact stole the breath from his lungs. Five vicious points of agony tore through his body as some invisible limb whipped across his midsection and hurled him to the ground. A startled cry left him only to be drowned out by the sound of tearing as the appendage shredded through his clothing like paper.

Wilson tumbled into a snowbank, the icy cold of the frozen powder hitting his skin in stark contrast to the warm liquid that was now dripping across his front. For a brief span of time his ragged gasps were the only sound that disturbed the unnatural stillness of the world around him.

His reprieve didn't last long.

The rush of air as a phantom limb swung towards him was the only thing that saved his life. Hearing the coming danger, he rolled to the side just as the deadly appendage slammed into the ground where he'd been laying just a moment ago. Though blinded by the dark, he felt the spray of pulverized snow splash across his body as the impact sent it flying.

Spinning in place, Wilson ran. It was the only thing he could think to do against an opponent he couldn't see. Though his body flared up in pain with every step, the primal drive for self-preservation pushed him forwards. It no longer mattered which direction he was going so long as it was away from that thing.

His flight was cut short as the creature struck again. Though he hadn't heard it move from its previous position, it lashed out and crashed into his side. The blow was like being hit by a truck. All sense of direction was blasted out of him as he was sent careening to the ground once more. Whatever this thing was, it was far faster than he could hope to be.

Ignoring the screaming protest of his tattered body, he rose drunkenly to his feet. Each movement caused a new trickle of blood to leak down his front. Each breath felt like a thousand tiny needles ravaging his lungs. He couldn't give up now. It couldn't end like this. Not while Wendy was still out there alone, not while Maxwell was watching their every move, and certainly not while they were trapped in this world.

Wilson did the only thing he could think to do. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out his knife.

Gripping the chilly handle sent unpleasant tingles up his spine, not unlike the touch of hundreds of tiny spiders. Doing his best to ignore the disturbing sensations, he planted his feet firmly into the ground and strained his ears to detect any hints of when the next attack would come. It soon proved to be an exercise in futility.

Seemingly encouraged by the constant contact, the uncomfortable feeling increased tenfold. He gasped sharply as he felt the familiar pain of dark tendrils burrowing into the confines of his skull. His hands shook violently and his teeth bit down so hard that he was worried they might crack, but he refused to let go. He needed the weapon. Sensing his resistance the worm-like shades pushed harder, ripping away at defenses. They wrapped around each other, piercing through his mind and digging deeper until, with neither rhyme nor reason, they twisted.

Even with all the scientific knowledge and his advanced vocabulary Wilson could not have accurately described what happened next even if his life depended on it. It was as though the fabric of reality had suddenly wrenched ninety degrees to the side, smashing him with an almost unbearable feeling of vertigo. Reeling from the distortion, he could only watch helplessly as the shadows lunged towards him like a hungry animal.

Shockingly enough, no surge of pain followed them. The darkness whipped around his body almost like a raging wind. Though the substance couldn't possibly have been solid, he felt it conform to the shape of his body and even run across his fingers and over his knife. Once it reached the tip of the blade, instead of stopping, it continued to extend, broadening its surface until it reached almost a meter in length.

The shroud of blackness that had been condensing around his body came to a halt, leaving him draped in an inky fabric. In his hand, instead of his simple blade, was long, curved scimitar made of the same substance that his new clothing was.

Wilson was very grateful that it was too dark to see anything, because he was willing to bet that he looked fairly stupid with his mouth hanging open in uncomprehending shock.

Without thinking, his entire body lurched to the left, narrowly avoiding being carved open as his hidden foe swung at him from the shadows. His arm, driven by a will that felt alien to his own, swung the sword diagonally. He felt a very minor amount of resistance as it sliced across the limb.

A wail that was equal parts pain and surprise filled the air as his weapon made contact. He couldn't see his attacker, but it was almost like he didn't need to. He could feel it with an unnatural precision.

Taking several steps backwards, he brandished the weapon in his assailant's direction. After the initial screech, it had lapsed back into total silence. Wilson's grip tightened around the haft of his blade as he felt a drop of either melted snow or sweat drip down into his eye. Though he couldn't actually see with it, he didn't dare blink the offending liquid away or rub it off for fear of provoking another attack.

Seconds ticked by, stretching into minutes. Neither of them budged in the slightest. Though still battered and bleeding, Wilson's body was held up by a strength that hadn't been there previously.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity, the mysterious creature drew away and vanished into the night in search of less dangerous prey. The tip of the scientist's sword slowly lowered, ready to be brought back up at a moment's notice. When the light of the moon and stars once again shone through the previously impermeable veil, his shoulders sagged in silent relief.

Stop standing around. You've still got a job to do.

Coated in an armor of darkness, Wilson turned and continued down the path he'd originally been following. Fatigue no longer bit at his heels or threatened to drag him down. Fear was an emotion that he couldn't rightly understand anymore.

Driven forwards with a pure sense of purpose, he dove back into the dark.

He didn't know how long he'd been walking for. Minutes. Hours. Days. Perhaps even months or years. Who's to say that the light of the sun hadn't simply extinguished itself and thrown this place into an eternal night? He didn't know how long he'd been walking, but he didn't care. The cold didn't bother him anymore.

Wilson pushed through the hard-packed snow without pause or hesitation. He no longer felt the need to stop and rationalize what was happening.

He moved, therefore he was.

That was why it came as no surprise to him when he eventually spotted the faintest shimmers of light coming from a cave in the distance. Maybe the same force that had aided him during the fight had directed him here. Maybe it was just sheer dumb luck. It didn't matter what the reasoning behind it happened to be.

It happened, therefore it was.

A couple more minutes of walking brought him to the entrance. The sight inside was one of the most pitiful he'd ever seen.

Wendy lay stripped of her grass-woven cloak, leaving her almost entirely exposed to the elements. She was curled in a ball, gripping her legs close to her in an attempt to stave off the encroaching cold.

She wasn't moving.

Abigail, who'd been hovering and mewling softly over her sister, turned sharply at Wilson's entrance. Even without physical features to read, it was obvious that the ghost terrified. Whether it was for her sister's safety or because of his ominous appearance he couldn't tell.

"That's enough of that then…"

He didn't know why he spoke the words out loud, but the moment they left his mouth a painful wrenching sensation tore into the back of his head. He could feel it as the slimy sickening tendrils of wretched energy dragged themselves out of his mind and sank back into the jewel embedded in his knife. The shadows surrounding him and coating the blade quickly followed suit, diving into the depths of the gem and painting it a dark purple, only a couple shades off of midnight-black.

Wilson collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as though he'd just surfaced from beneath an ocean. He reflexively dropped the knife and scrambled as far away from it as he could get. Now that it was no longer invading the sanctity of his psyche, he could feel a million frantic questions clambering to be heard in a discordant cacophony playing out inside his head.

Struggling to avoid emptying his stomach on the floor, he drove all of them away. There was something more important he needed to focus on right now.

He rose back up to his feet, at least for the moment, and shambled his way over to Wendy's side. Abigail looked to him pleadingly as he knelt down beside her.

Wilson's first instinct was to try and massage her limbs to get the blood flowing once more, but some part of his mind held him back.

Core first. Then extremities. Warming the arms and legs will cause a sudden rush of cold blood to flood her system.

He nodded at his own thoughts, remembering just what kind of effects a frozen wasteland could have on the human body. Taking off his pack, he upended it and spilled its contents on the floor in front of him. After a few moments of work, he'd brushed away the small amount of snow that had blown into the cave and cleared a space to work with.

Sticks, branches, grass, and other flammable plant materials were all laid out in front of him. He piled them together to create a miniature campfire in the space he'd cleared. Now all he needed was a way to ignite them.

Reaching into his pocket, he drew out Willow's used up lighter. The bitter cold had robbed his fingers of feeling, but after several moments of blundering he managed to get a firm grip on it and work one of them over the striker.

Come on. Wilson silently prayed. Just a spark. That's all I need. Just a spark…

His hand was shaking so he brought his other one over to steady his grip. Clutching the small metal contraption, he lowered it over his newly-made tinder pile and flicked the switch. At first nothing happened, but after four or five attempts he was rewarded with a small flickering spark catching.

Putting the lighter away, the scientist lowered himself and began lightly blowing on the tiny ember with light breaths. Just enough to give it oxygen. If he accidentally blew it out, things would go very badly for both of them.

Much to his relief, the glowing light became a miniscule flame which quickly worked into a small but steady fire.

His first task taken care of, Wilson turned to Wendy. He stripped off his own cloak and wrapped her up in it as tightly as he could before lifting her up and bringing her over to the edge of the fire. She was still breathing, but her body felt terribly cold even to his own chilled touch. Even after physically carrying her she still lay unresponsive in his grip. He knew that she had issues with personal space, but survival took priority over comfort. Wrapping his arms around her bundled form, he did everything he could to ensure that she was sheltered from the winter air.

"Abigail?" He called, his voice cracking as the bitter cold stung his throat. "I need you to go find the others."

The ghost let out a noise of refusal, shaking her head quickly and hovering closer to the pair. She wasn't about to leave her sister in such sorry shape.

"Listen to me." He said, straining to speak. "They have more supplies with them. All I've got is what I was able to carry. Wendy needs more than just a small fire if she's going to get better. This one will keep us warm for a little while, but if she's going to make it you need to find them."

She wanted to protest. He could see it painted clearly on her shifting form. Even so, she knew what he said was true. After a bit of hesitation, Abigail made for the entrance and shot off into the night. The sooner she brought Willow and Wolfgang, the sooner she could go back to watching over Wendy.

The scientist sagged heavily as she departed. Now that he'd done everything he could for the moment, all the fatigue and stress of the past few hours hit him full force. He was too tired to even try pondering over the creature in the dark and his knife's convenient intervention.

Can't fall asleep now… He thought to himself, struggling to keep his eyes open. Too cold… Body temperature… drops… too low… have to watch… over…

It was a losing battle. After only a couple pitiful minutes of resistance, his eyelids fell as though dragged down by the weight of a mountain.

Desperately clutching Wendy's deathly-still form to his chest, he fell asleep.

"Damn it! I knew it wasn't a good idea to let him go off on his own like that!"

Wilson became distantly aware of a voice. It sounded someone he'd spoken to before. Crass, but still feminine. He wished it would go away. He was too tired to talk right now.

"Little girl is look like baby all wrapped up."

Another voice. Male, deep, unrefined. Also someone he knew. There was a wispy, practically ethereal sound that accompanied them, but he couldn't focus enough to determine exactly what it was.

"And look back there. Do you think they actively found that or was it just luck?"

He was so cold, but more than that he was exhausted. Couldn't they see that they were making it hard for him to sleep when they were practically talking in his ear like that?

"Here. Help me get them over to the doorway. I'll get Wendy, you get Wilson."

"Is that good idea?"

"We don't have much of a choice. The longer they stay here, the worse they'll get. Whatever's on the other side can't be any more dangerous than this place. I'll grab the knife and other supplies. No sense leaving them behind."

There was a sudden tug as one of the people leaned down to pull the object Wilson had been holding to his chest. In a surge of panic, he reflexively tightened his grip as much as his weary limbs would allow. He didn't remember what it was, but he knew it was important.

"Hey! Wilson! Easy there, it's just us!"

He groaned, unable to make any sound other than that. Despite his best efforts he was simply too weak to keep a hold of the item. It was pried out of his grip.

"All right, I've got her. Hoist him up quickly. We have to hurry."

"Hold on science man! We save you now."

A pair of meaty arms gripped Wilson under his shoulders and lifted him upwards. The action spurred him to crack one of his eyes open. He was greeted by the blurry outline of two… no… three figures all headed towards what looked to be some kind of wooden slab. The third figure was hovering an inch above the ground.

"Time to get the heck out of this place."

One of the figures reached out, pulling on some part of the wooden construct. Almost immediately the device seemed to split in two, revealing a swirling vortex of unidentifiable energy.

"Brace yourself."

Another pair or arms extended out from the doorway and took a hold of him. To zoned out to even process what was happening, Wilson simply allowed himself to be dragged along. The limbs pulled him into the opening and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. He was falling. Weightless. It was a rather unpleasant, though strangely familiar experience.

With nothing else to do, the scientist closed his eyes and waited for the jostling ride to end.