Consciousness returned to Wilson slowly. Eyes closed, he registered that he was lying on his back; what felt like a warm blanket weighed on his torso, while the ground beneath him was cold and wet - he was lying in snow. Before he could muster the strength to move, he heard that same whoosh noise that had greeted him before, followed by a voice that was all too familiar.

"Well, would you look at that," Maxwell said, though he sounded more bitter than amused. "You survived. One down, a few to go."

The same sound passed over Wilson again, and by the time he got to his feet, there was no sign of his captor.

A quick look around was enough for Wilson to get his bearings: He was in a new iteration of this fake world, at what looked like the height of winter - the sun was barely above the horizon, and the angle it moved at didn't look like it would provide much daylight. The ground below him was muddy, but though a few spiky trees dotted his immediate vicinity - a couple of them burned, oddly enough - he didn't appear to be in a proper swamp. Just next to him, a fresh homing device stood in its hexagonal base, waiting for him to pick it up.

Almost afraid of what he'd find, Wilson looked down at himself. What had felt like a blanket had in fact been his ankle-length beard, for which he was grateful in the cold. His pockets held the four items he'd placed in the strange machine's mouth, and he preemptively took out the tentacle spike, if only for comfort. His mind, body, and stomach seemed to all be in exactly the state they'd been in before the shadows had taken him, not just his beard; while the first transition had made it as though his time in initial captivity had never happened, this time seemed to be different.

Sighing heavily, Wilson plucked the homing beacon from its stand, then turned in the direction of the sound of crackling flames he'd been hearing. Just a few meters away, a campfire burned, and he hastened to start warming his heat stone. Beside it was a chest, and Wilson hesitated only a moment before opening it. Inside, he found seven logs, three flint, and a brand-new winter hat, the last of which he donned immediately.

Starting off in midwinter may be a bit cheeky, but he's giving me more than I could reasonably have asked for, Wilson thought. So what's the catch? If nothing else, he knew by now not to take any gift from Maxwell without questioning it.

He took out the homing device, but the signal was almost nonexistent. Legwork during winter, that won't be fun, he thought. Maybe I should just stay here…

Should I stay here regardless?

Assembling a dimensional traveling machine once had gotten him essentially nowhere, there was no reason to continue playing Maxwell's game. Unless…

He said 'a few to go', Wilson remembered. If I clear enough of his challenges, will he finally release me, is that the deal?

And then, Wilson thought on the man's tone. The first time he'd been taken from the real world, his captor's greeting had sounded amused, and the same again when he'd found the portal in that first fake world. This time, Maxwell had not sounded amused. Perhaps the bastard didn't want Wilson to proceed at all? It was almost strange to think on a person's tone of voice, it had been so long since he'd last talked to an actual human, but the more Wilson considered it, the more convinced he became that his captor did not want him to keep going.

And if he didn't want Wilson to continue, then continuing was exactly what Wilson was going to do. What else did he have to motivate himself at this point, if not spite?

Steeling his resolve as dusk fell far too soon, Wilson began gathering resources. Twigs were back, as were berry bushes, and of course carrots and tall grass grew as they normally did in grasslands; the trees were lumpy and coneless, but that was of no real consequence if he didn't intend to stay. There was a young spider nest not far away, as well, which the sounds of spiders emerging in the absence of daylight alerted him to immediately. The scant few minutes of proper daylight had him worried, but when he looked at the sun again, it seemed to be all but resting in a sunset position, barely moving at all, so perhaps there was still a fair amount of time before proper nightfall.

Another welcome surprise came as Wilson gathered enough grass and twigs and found he was able to weave a proper backpack for himself immediately, without needing a science machine - his catalogue of recipes that worked in this fake world seemed to have also carried over from the previous challenge. There was nothing else he needed and could immediately build right now, but the fact that he could construct an alchemy engine from scratch was worth keeping in mind.

Very quickly, Wilson found the shore, and decided to start following it, torches ready to burn things to keep him warm if the need arose. Surely, if this world was intended to pose a specific challenge, it would be small, and he needed a better idea of what land there was to explore. The terrain changed quickly from grass to forest under his feet…and then, shortly thereafter, he found a bit of land jutting out from the shore: a bridge of marble flooring covered in evil flowers, with a huge cluster of metal beasts slumbering just beyond the range of the forest, including one modeled after the castle chess piece that had been absent from guarding the wooden thing but which Wilson still knew the capabilities of from underground.

There's a thing across there. It wasn't difficult to guess at that. Even so, Wilson didn't want to charge in unprepared, so he skipped past the bridge and kept following the original shoreline.

The land changed from forest to savannah, but with no sign of Beefalo, though spider nests continued dotting the area. A few herds of pengulls emerged from the ocean as Wilson explored, but he ignored the squawking birds and kept building his map. Night still hadn't fallen before he found another bit of land sticking out from the cliffs he'd been following, this one a thin, spiral pattern of swamp mud that, as Wilson stepped onto the first stretches of it, seemed to be host to a solid line of tentacles. Nope, not that way, not yet, he thought, though of course he knew he would have to go that way eventually.

Again, the land shifted to fertile grassland, and shortly after that, night fell. Wilson lit a fire, kept it going with logs, ate his carrots, and waited, then set out when the sun rose. Nothing happened well into the 'dusk' that seemed to take up half the day, but Wilson gathered resources until he was overflowing, though he'd only seen one or two boulders, neither of which had held gold. When the land changed again, Wilson checked his mental map on a hunch, and found that he had indeed simply walked around the edge of a peninsula, which didn't bode well.

By the time a third land bridge came into view, Wilson was already starting to get an idea of what was going on here. This bridge wasn't nearly as hostile - in addition to a fair number of boulders, it featured tallbird nests in much closer proximity than he'd ever known the birds to live, and the width of the space meant that he would annoy several of them just by crossing it, but tallbirds weren't so bad, and he didn't think they were social. Despite that, he passed the bridge and kept walking, and eventually, he found a fourth bridge, this one covered in 3-tiered spider nests, though unlike in the last world, this was formed of thin, interlocking paths rather than being one straight bridge. He passed it and kept going, soon forced to double back around, until he reached the spot he'd started at.

His mental map said it all: he was on a small island that held only the most basic of resources - even if it were an abundance of those - and was connected to four more land patches by incredibly hostile bridges, all of which he would have to traverse at least once if he wanted out of here. To make matters worse, when he opened his eyes again and gauged the sky, he couldn't shake the feeling that the pattern of daylight wasn't changing at all, meaning he would probably have to do all of it during an endless winter.

Thinking hard to come to terms with this challenge, Wilson returned to the chest he'd been left at a slow walk. By the time he got there and started a campfire to wait out the night, he'd mostly coped with his frustration and his panic, and relinquished his umbrella and mining helmet to the container, at peace with the prospects before him.

Alright then, he thought. Where should I start?

~o~

Come morning, Wilson decided there was no sense in taking it slow - carrots and berries might have been relatively abundant for starters, but since it was winter, the berries wouldn't grow back, and of course, carrots were only for maintaining sustenance until something reliable could be set up. There were no Beefalo here, and even if there had been, birds wouldn't be pulling seeds out of the ground for him to grow because it was winter; no matter how he looked at it, food was simply not going to be reliable for more than a few days.

That meant running for it.

Of the four bridges he had to choose from, the tallbird path was easily the least daunting - the creatures never went far from their nests, so as long as he just hurried past they wouldn't be too much trouble to avoid. In addition, there were boulders along that path, and Wilson needed rocks if he was going to make anything useful. And so, he turned and headed for the tallbird bridge. Again, he noticed that the sun didn't appear to be on a different path from the previous two days, but while that was troubling in one sense, in another, he chose to take comfort in what seemed to be a constant here - the fewer variables he had to contend with, the better.

Even so, dusk fell by the time he reached the tallbirds. They weren't the most active of creatures, and preferred to nest when the sun wasn't up, but getting close to several nests would be unavoidable nonetheless. It was difficult to judge how far the nesting ground extended, and Wilson stopped to break apart some boulders that held gold nuggets that were just far enough from any of the big-eyed creatures for him to safely gather the resources. When one finally cooed and rose to indicate it felt threatened, that was when Wilson started running. By the time the ground beneath him changed, three more had joined the chase, but he crunched through the snow-covered savannah at full speed, and soon enough, they gave up and returned to their empty nests. Would it be worth waiting for them to lay eggs? Wilson wondered. No, probably not, not even for food…

Curious about how the land was divvied up, Wilson kept walking, exploring this much more extensive land of dead grass…and soon, to his relief, he came across a Beefalo herd. I need to shave them, he thought. If I find a Koalefant, I can make a winter coat.

For now, the herds were too thick to risk trying to hunt them for meat or horns, and part of Wilson lamented that he hadn't tried killing that one lone Beefalo in the last world, but it wasn't worth worrying over now. Content with his exploration for the time being, mindful of the cold and the need to keep going before his food ran out, Wilson took out the homing device, only to figure out that the thing he was searching for was back in the direction of the bridge.

Cautiously, he backtracked, and decided to get some more rocks and gold while he was at it, as a few more boulders stood along the tallbird path without coming too close to any of the nests. Night fell, cold permeating his body, and he picked some more grass and lit a fire. The sounds of spiders surrounded him, and he had noticed a few nests along the way; it was almost funny, how abundant spiders suddenly were, though he was in no mood to laugh.

At dawn, he took the homing device back out and followed it, finding that he should have turned immediately to the right upon passing the tallbirds. Before long, the device was going crazy, and he came in sight of a patch of marble land, with metal monsters slumbering around a wooden platform. It was identical to the one in the last world, from what he could tell through the snow, and he stopped.

No sense bothering with any of that now, he decided. It's enough to know that my final destination is here. Although…if it's all the same as last time, and there are five things but only four bridges… He shook his head. Might as well check what's past the other three before I start worrying about that.

Turning away, he returned to where the boulders stood, hoping to get a few more rocks, and that was when he saw it: a small dome made of snow blocks, sitting maybe two paces away from a small spider nest, right on the edge of the tallbird domain.

Walruses.

Immediately, Wilson froze in his tracks. The anthropomorphic walrus family that appeared during winter was always dangerous, with two icy hounds and a leader Wilson's mind insisted was named "MacTusk" who used incredibly powerful blow darts from a distance (there was also a young walrus, but he was of no threat or consequence). The clockwork bishops may have fought from a distance as well, but they weren't hard to chase; not so with MacTusk.

And yet…if Wilson could get his hands on a walrus tusk, running through these challenges would be a lot easier…

Hesitantly, he crept forward. It was almost dusk, so of course, the family was hunting, including the little walrus who would never be worth chasing. The two hounds seemed to be fighting with the spider nest, but the walruses were busy with a tallbird. With a tentacle spike, killing the hounds was easy, and Wilson did it quickly, gathering fangs from the fragile beasts with some relief. MacTusk himself was distracted, and was running away from his quarry…right towards Wilson.

Do I go for it? Wilson hesitated a moment, then lifted his tentacle spike and ran. It's worth it!

MacTusk backed into him, completely unaware of his presence, and Wilson swung hard. Surprised by the attack, the hunter flinched, giving Wilson the opportunity to keep hitting, and then, mercifully, the beast fell and died.

Wilson dove into the carcass, ignoring the angry walrus child snarling at him from a distance, gouging a good chunk of meat from within the blubber and taking the blow dart that had been the creature's weapon before trying to harvest a tusk…but, unfortunately, both yellowed spikes of enamel broke, leaving them useless.

But MacTusk's hat was another story.

Relieved, Wilson seized the tam o'shanter that had fallen from the walrus's head. The plaid-patterned wool was covered in walrus hairs, but Wilson clutched it gratefully. It was something made with proper craftsmanship, something he himself couldn't have made, it was tough and didn't feel like anything he could create using science or magic from the materials and rules of this fake world; in short, it was the closest thing to reality he'd ever managed to find in all his time since being taken from his home. Just wearing it always made him feel better, the pull of darkness had little to no effect on him when a hat like this was on his head.

That was enough for him to return to his base, such as it was, though he mined rocks along the way back as well, and kept his warmer winter hat on.

Already planning to set up a fire pit and an alchemy engine, Wilson deviated from the direct path on the way back to the chest after he passed the tallbirds to pick more carrots, and there he found another blessing: sitting on the ground, eye closed, was the Eye Bone. A smile split his mouth as he picked up the grisly wand.

Boing-y boing-y boing-y…

From out of nowhere, the rotund, orange form of Otto von Chesterfield, Esq. hopped into view, the pale red eyelid opening on the Eye Bone to fix on Wilson.

"Hello, old friend," Wilson told the living chest, crouching down to pet the fuzzy head. "It's so good to see you again…" As the creature rose to meet his touch, he frowned. "What happened to you? Were you reset too?" For he'd managed to conduct a ritual during the full moon one month that had changed the creature's properties, and he'd never managed to undo the transformation to experiment with other methods, but now Otto von Chesterfield was orange again. Still, the peaceful creature seemed as friendly as ever, and Wilson was happy to have a companion again as he returned to build his informal base of operations.