Chapter 3 of 5

The King of Winter

Wilson's POV

If I really wanted to, I could wax poetic about the types of cold and how miserable each type was. If I tried hard enough, I could probably form some sort of unnecessarily grand poem all about the temperatures we dealt with, especially in the previous world. Really, though, it was a waste of time to do such a thing, and I knew that well.

Apparently, the world must have taken some sort of offense to that. Maybe it thought that I didn't appreciate the frozen wastelands enough? Whatever the initial cause, the effect was obvious immediately as I stirred awake in the next world.

I was the first awake, I noticed quickly. A quick headcount of my companions turned up a favorable answer: none of us were separated this time. After the last little game of Maxwell's, I wouldn't have been surprised if he or Nightmare had simply decided to tear us all apart just to see us run around like headless chickens.

Winona was unconscious off to my left. Her eyelids fluttered and I could see her hands twitching as if she was experiencing some sort of vivid dream. At one point, I heard what almost sounded like a pained whimper escape from her throat. I reached out and gently shook her shoulder. Normally, I wouldn't try to wake them up, but I wasn't going to just let her suffer through a nightmare when I was right there.

She shot up with a start, one hand flying to grip her chest and the other pushing herself off of the ground to face me. For a moment, Winona simply stared blankly through me. The second passed, though, and I saw her eyes refocus on my face and her fingers curl slightly into the fabric of her top. "Wilson," she breathed. "You scared the crap out of me." She pointed one finger accusingly at me.

"Sorry." I rubbed at the back of my head. "Were you having a nightmare?"

She frowned a little bit. I could see her defenses start to lower again, and she took to massaging the fingers of one hand as she considered.

"I guess so? Don't really remember it now."

I nodded to acknowledge her words, but quickly changed the subject when I saw what she was subconsciously doing. "Your hands okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine. Why do you ask?"

"You keep- you know-" I did the same motion with my own hands.

"Oh. Yeah, just a bit numb and tingly, I guess. Trying to get it to go away."

I offered one hand up, and after a brief hesitance, Winona rested her hand, palm up, on my own.

"It's fine, really," she said breezily. "Nothing that a little TLC can't fix. It's really, really not a big deal. Trust me."

As she spoke, I carefully removed the glove covering the bothersome hand. Immediately, I found myself hissing in a stream of air between my teeth as I saw the damage. The majority of her fingers were pale and waxy, almost artificial in appearance. In fact, I likely would have assumed they were some sort of prosthetic if there weren't blue-black tinges towards her fingertips and under her fingernails. Instead of being concerned at all about her obviously frostbitten limb, Winona looked embarrassed instead.

"'Not a big deal'?" I repeated incredulously. "I think our standards of what counts as a 'big deal' are very different! You realize people lose limbs to frostbite?"

"It could be worse," she protested as she ripped her hand back. She dutifully replaced the glove over it even though it wasn't hiding anything anymore. "It's just a bit on the one hand. I can live with it. Either way, if this trend keeps up, there's gonna be much worse to worry about than some frostbitten fingers." She motioned with open arms towards the landscape around them.

And, really, I couldn't protest with that at all.

Because what we really, really, really needed was another cold world that tried to step up to the last.

As it was right now, the previous challenge had been colder. At least… atmospherically. One thing the previous challenge didn't have much of was wind, and even though we were mostly surrounded by trees at the moment, I could hear the roar of wind tearing through leafless branches high above our heads, and thin trickles of an icy breeze crept through the words and brushed against the small party hidden amongst them. If I had to guess, the second we left the safety of trees, we would be blasted by the full force of frozen winter winds.

Also similar to the previous world was the setup of our surroundings. A campfire blazed a few feet away, directly in the center of a clearing mostly cleared of snow. The drifts out of range of the warmth reached from my knees to over my head. I wasn't even sure how deep the normal snow was.

Wilbur and Webber woke up at about the same time, although it was likely because Wilbur was practically on top of the boy and his own stirrings disturbed Webber. Wilbur stumbled off of Webber and threw his arms out in a stretch. When he yawned, I couldn't help but eye his unnaturally sharp canines with care.

When Webber caught me looking his way, he gave me a strange sort of grin with all of his teeth. Because I needed to be reminded that he also had unnaturally sharp canines. It was a wonder none of the bites I received from either of them ever got infected.

"World Three," I mused out loud. "We're almost halfway done. Isn't that weird? Then we'll finally put Maxwell in his place and get home."

Wilbur grumbled something lowly in a different language, cut off sharply by Webber elbowing him. "Hey, I know you were speaking English yesterday. You can't go back to pretending you can't speak."

"You were dying yesterday, and yet you're pretending that never happened."

"Hmm." Webber's whiskers twitched slightly as he thought. "Fair point."

"It didn't matter what almost happened," Winona said sternly. "What did happen was that we made it all out alive with no casualties and no lasting severe injuries." When I opened my mouth to protest the latter point, she quickly leaned almost indistinguishably forward and said in a whisper: "Don't tell them. I don't want them to worry about me."

"It's not like it's something that'll ruin their lives," I muttered back. "Webber has a bad hand, too."

"Yeah, but…" she chewed at her lip. "Just… don't worry them about it. It's fine."

I couldn't quite fault her stubbornness, although ignoring the issue wouldn't make it go away at all. I sighed, but before I could speak again, Wilbur blinked up at Winona and I and spoke.

"Hey, um, can I talk to you two for a moment?" He asked.

Previously, I couldn't really focus on the fact that Wilbur was freely and fluently speaking English due to the rest of the situations going on at the time. Now that it was rather calm, the strangeness really struck me. I had known the entire time- or at least, had a good hunch- but it was still weird to hear full human words out of a monkey. More than that, but the accent he carried was strangely clean and almost pretty. Musical, if I had to put a single word to it.

Once again, before I could say anything, Webber jumped in on his own and threw an arm in front of Wilbur. "Oh, haha! Before any of that, I'd like to steal him for a moment. Not for any particular reason! You know, uh, chats! Friendly, normal, not-serious at all chats. Super goofy, genuinely, you guys wouldn't get it I promise. Inside jokes!" Despite the playful tone of his voice, I couldn't help but feel unnerved by the way his face looked guarded. Not hostile or anything of the like, just… plain. Almost no emotion at all.

Winona shrugged. "Sure. We'll be here."

Webber gave another one of those big grins- the one that showed every single one of his fangs, before hurriedly pushing Wilbur off to the side.

"I'll be right back," I whispered to Winona. She tipped her head.

"Where are you going?"

"Eavesdropping," I said truthfully. I didn't have a good lie ready, so truth it was.

"Don't eavesdrop!" She shoved me lightly with a stern look on her face. "If they want to have a secret conversation, that's their right."

"His face doesn't match his words."

I wasn't sure what was going on in the boy's head, but I stayed away often enough that I knew it was better to know what he was thinking than to not know. Those grins weren't convincing, and there was something almost manic about them.

I didn't want to say the words 'murderous intent', but I was certainly thinking them quite loudly.

Ignoring Winona's further protests, I slipped behind one of the trees nearby and made a wide circle around the camp until I was closer to Webber and Wilbur than to Winona. I could almost hear her complaints from here, but I had to shut them out.

"-joke about!" Wilbur hissed to his companion. I heard the slightest creak of pressure on snow, as if something was shifting their weight or trying to get comfortable. "I'm sorry, Ty, I don't trust you."

"Well, I didn't say it was a joke, just a major exaggeration," Webber responded breezily. Just in the way he spoke, I could almost see the motion of a hand brushing off the issue- whatever said issue was. "Listen, do you think I'm someone who would give up that easily?" After a moment of silence from Wilbur, Webber scoffed. "The answer is no, Wilbur, I wouldn't."

"I wouldn't say it's been easy-"

"Oh please." The boy sounded almost irritated. "I was just being dramatic. You know how you say some things you really don't think when you're being dramatic? I do it all the time."

"I don't think you were though. The least you can let me do is say something-"

"And have more people staring at me all the time? No. Thank. You. I'd rather not. Like I said, Wilbur. I'm fine. I'm not going to do anything stupid. Even if I wanted to, it's not like my sword would help any-"

"Tyler!"

"Joke! I'm joking!"

"I can't tell if you are joking or not! Have you ever had thoughts like that before, even if you don't right at this moment?"

"Of course not," Webber scoffed. "I'm better than that. You don't have to worry about me, and you don't have to say anything to anyone else and cause unnecessary worry, okay?"

So, it sounded like they also had their own little secret. I chewed at my lip. What on Earth was Wilbur so worried about that Webber didn't want to get out? I shifted very slightly to try and get a read on their body languages, but froze abruptly when I noticed Wilbur facing straight towards me. He didn't really visibly react, but I saw his eyes flick towards me and back. He knew I was there.

"...okay…" Wilbur reluctantly gave. "I won't say anything. But if you start thinking like that again-"

"I'll come right to you, okay? Promise."

Wilbur nodded slowly, but again I saw his eyes pass towards me. There was something meaningful I was supposed to take from his expression, but I couldn't tell what exactly it was.

Sorry Wilbur, but if you wanted me to read your mind, it's not going to work.

If it was that serious, he would say something to us later, when Webber was asleep or gone.

…

Once we were all around the fire again (still burning high and hot without additional fuel somehow), Winona and I took quick stock of our supplies.

The sack that we had received from Maxwell in the previous world had transferred over with us, and I was certain there were a few extra logs in there as well as the kindling and scraps we kept in there. The food situation was still rather atrocious, but Wilbur immediately proclaimed that he could smell rabbits on the wind. Either we had gotten extremely lucky in that sense, or more strings were being pulled to make us succeed.

But who was pulling those strings? Maxwell was the one to help us, but I couldn't convince myself to believe that he was suddenly giving and benevolent to his favorite pets.

The second food was mentioned, Webber's eyes lit up. I couldn't help but scoff a bit at his excitement. Most of that was enforced on his own part, not anything that we did. Wilbur spared the time to glare at me.

"Wilbur, let me hunt with you!" The boy exclaimed. "Who knows what lesson this world is gonna want from me. Maybe giving into bloodlust!" This was followed by an awkward, fake-sounding laugh. "Besides, when was the last time I ate something that wasn't spider meat? Too long!"
"Like, a day ago," Wilbur said breezily. "We practically poured bone broth down your throat."

"Wait, really?"

"Are you going to forget what happened the last time you went hunting?" I quirked an eyebrow. "You know. That part where you refused to hurt anything?"

Webber immediately opened his mouth to argue before shutting it just as abruptly. He looked away and puffed his cheeks out.

"Glad we got that sorted out." I shook my head. "Do either of you two know when we're going to get out of winter?"

"We wouldn't be in winter if we stayed back in the other world," Wilbur complained. "It was just getting nice out!"

"Not any time soon. I can't smell spring whatsoever."

"Hmm. Well, it looks like we'll have to try to stock up on food while we know it's still running around. I'd volunteer, but I don't exactly have any weapons."

"Well, we can make rabbit traps," Wilbur pointed out. "Grass and twigs, easy peasy."

Webber grimaced at the thought.

"Or we can continue relying on the prime ape acclimated to tropical weather for winter hunting. That would work, too." It was said as a joke, but the sort of crooked grin Wilbur shot towards Winona made me think it was also somehow a dig on me. "Oh, and I'm taking Wilson with me."

I blinked, surprised to be called out by the monkey. "But don't you not like me?" I blurted before I could think about anything.

"Oh I hate you," Wilbur confirmed with an ecstatic nod. "But my other choice is to take him with me-" he pointed a thumb towards Webber. "And I'm not choosing that one."

I didn't dignify that with a response. So, Wilbur was simply being childish. Annoying, but I couldn't really expect anything different. He was just an animal, after all.

I gave Winona a handful of instructions to set up and keep the fire going and she nodded through all of them. Simple things we had already done a dozen times at this point. Wilbur had to take an extra moment to drive home that she absolutely had to keep an eye on Tyler because both of them still seemed convinced the boy couldn't handle himself.

"You don't have to babysit him, you know," I scoffed to Wilbur as we set off. I was following his nose, but also doing my best to keep in step with him. I wasn't about to let a monkey lead me around like a mother duck. "He's more than capable of taking care of himself."

"Went great last time," Wilbur responded. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "If you ignore the poison and the holes in his stomach- which he probably still has, mind you."

"Honestly, it's just natural selection at that point."

"Natural selection is why there's no humans native to the archipelago or mainland. And yet…" he motioned towards me and tossed a fresh glare my way. "Do you really have to draw every conversation between us into an argument about Tyler?"

"I'm sure we can find a whole new set of topics to disagree on." I rolled my eyes. "You strike me as the type to believe in a flat Earth."

"Don't know about your weird world, but the Constant is, indeed, flat."

"Really," I deadpanned. That was not something I expected him to actually believe. "You're kidding me."

"If your world was a sphere, doesn't that only make half of it livable? It's a stupid concept."

"No? Gravity is a thing."

"Let me guess, you were the fun one to have in class. I can hear your shrill little voice asking the teacher about the homework right as your class leaves. 'Mister teacher, how ever will I learn the difference between 'effect' and 'affect' without the paperwork to memorize?' Puh-lease, Wilson."

"Repetition is memorization!"

"I guess someone with a lifespan like a human would need paperwork to learn anything. I was basically a toddler at your age."

"I'm almost thirty!"

"Congrats. I'm your elder by…" Wilbur made a show of counting on his fingers, muttering under his breath. "Anywhere from Four Thousand Two Hundred and Sixty-Seven years to Four Thousand Two Hundred and Seventy-One years. Keep at it, champ!"

"Yeah right. Having an 'old soul' doesn't count, you know."

"It does when we're biologically immortal and don't die of old age like the lowest class animals do. Oh wait-"

"Aren't we supposed to be doing something productive?"

"Shame on me for assuming you're capable of being productive in your life. Go on, maybe you can use a math equation to figure out where the best spot to find rabbits is. Oh, do tell me all about the literary masterpiece of Moby Dick and all of the ways it helps to survive in the wild."

I gritted my teeth. "Did you have any goal of bringing me along other than to try to make me hate you more?"

"Aw, jealous? It's okay, I'm sure Tyler will warm right up to you again once you start calling him his real name regularly instead of when you feel like it. Although, you definitely would be the one to refuse to use someone's preferred name. Shame on you, Wilson." Wilbur tutted and darted ahead. I let out a wordless shout of protest and shot after him. Wilbur was surprisingly fast despite trudging through snow just as I was and, on top of that, having shorter legs than me even when on two legs.

"Wilbur, why did you even bring me if you were just going to argue?"

"Because I thought I might actually get through your thick head and have you listen to me but you kind of went and blew that immediately."

"Fine then. I'm listening. Go ahead and imbue your wisdom unto me, great monkey of old." If I rolled my eyes any harder, they'd end up in the back of my head. Wilbur growled under his breath before finally slowly again to a trot.

"Yeah, sure, I'll talk. I'm worried about Tyler."

"Tell me something new." I folded my arms. "It's not like you talk about anyone else. I'm beginning to think you don't think about anyone else either."

"Usually I'm worried about his general habit of getting into danger," Wilbur pushed on without acknowledging my words. "But I'm starting to get really worried about… you know, what he might do. He doesn't want me to tell you guys, so-"

"And yet you immediately break his trust."

"Like you weren't eavesdropping!" Wilbur snapped. "You saw him! He's not acting right! I'm worried that he's going to do something he's going to regret and I won't be able to stop it."

"Like any one of us couldn't easily take down a literal eight-year-old."

"He's nine, in case you missed that."

I rolled my eyes again but didn't say anything.

"And can't you take this seriously for just a minute? I'm not worried about what he'd do to us, but what he might end up doing to himself."

I gave a small hum. "Well, if I see him about to jump off another cliff I'll stop him next time, 'kay?"

I could see the twitch of Wilbur's jaw as he clenched it tightly. His tail flicked furiously at the end, and I couldn't help but recognize the tell tale signs of an attack. I didn't even ready myself back. I knew he wouldn't attack me now. After a moment, he did relent. His hackles fell, but his glare remained just as icy.

"Fine. Be that way. That's why I never wanted to talk to you. And to think- he used to love you so much he actually called you his father."

I froze. I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled deeply through pursed lips. The words twinged something in my heart, like poking at an inflamed sore. I shook my head to dispel the feeling.

"If you want to go back, be my guest. I can do this alone."

"I never told him to call me that."

"Yeah. You didn't." Wilbur gave me one last long look. His eyes were ablaze, but his expression was eerily calm. As if it had been iced over as part of the rest of the world. "But maybe you should have. Instead of forcing him to crawl up to you for the scraps of attention he deserved."

"I'm not a parent. And I never wanted to be."

"I never wanted to be, either." Wilbur turned his head until he was facing away from me again. "But now I'm the father of two. And it's the best thing that ever happened to me."

And he bounded into the snow.

"Wilbur!" I snapped, immediately pushing forward to catch up. Before I even reached a run, though, my vision pulsed with darkness, and I ended up basically throwing myself face first onto the ground. I hissed with displeasure as snowflakes flew from my area of impact, clinging to my hair and eyelashes and dusting my face with rosacea. I gritted my teeth and pushed myself back to my knees. Instinctively, I raised one hand to the side of my head and pressed against my temple. A small headache was beginning to form behind my eyes.

When I looked back up, I saw Wilbur again. He was standing a few paces away from me, on all fours with snow clumping the fur on his chest and stomach. A strange expression had settled over his face, and his brown eyes were dark with thought.

Because, naturally, he would come back to watch me fall on my face.

Instead of laughing at me, though, I simply saw him take in a deep breath, then let it out in a heavy sigh.

"I get it," Wilbur said. He trudged slightly closer, his tail curling and hovering awkwardly near his side.

"Get what?" The question wasn't meant to be entirely hostile, but whatever the intent was was lost on the angry tone of voice it came out in. Once he was close enough, Wilbur used his tail to brush a few snowflakes off of my shoulder.

"Your eyes just now." He waved one hand towards his face. "They flashed."

"...flashed."

"I've been a slave under Nightmare, too, you know. I know what it's like." Wilbur shook his head and brought himself back onto two feet to offer me a hand. I stared at him for just a moment before dragging myself from the ground as well, leaving him hanging. He dropped it without comment. "Sometimes, you aren't sure what you're doing or what you're saying. Sometimes you can't control it. Sometimes, it-" He spread his hands out and motioned with them as if trying to convey a point without the words to do it. "It feels like your heart is locked in a cage."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It was always so much stronger when I was in Maxwell's Throne Room," he continued without answering. "I never even considered how it would affect someone under Nightmare's rule when they were getting closer to it. I mean, I guess I always knew Nightmare had some sway over you, I just…" Wilbur rubbed his face. He looked pained, like simply having this conversation was causing him physical agony. "It didn't affect my ability to love my family. Nightmare was never able to shatter that, no matter how hard it tried. But my companions? My friends? Yeah, it could manipulate my feelings on them all the time.

"I miss them, Wilson. I never thought I would- Warly's shrill voice, Woodlegs' stupid obsessions, Walani's laziness- but I… I miss them. And yet, Nightmare made me feel like I hated them. I wanted them to die. I wanted to kill them. You… you're so young compared to me and you don't even have the same kind of resources I had. I had so many years to learn how to defend against Nightmare. You don't have that."

"So what are you trying to say?" I growled bitterly. "That I'm destined to go crazy because of Nightmare's influence over me?" I scoffed.

"I'm not your enemy." Wilbur's voice was soft, a far cry from the harsh snap that had punctuated his earlier words. "Tyler isn't your enemy. Winona isn't your enemy. These things that you feel- your anger, your hatred… it's not yours, Wilson. It's Nightmare's. I know it's easier said than done, but… you have to push past the feelings that Nightmare forces into you. It's not you." He paused, then added: "Well, I don't think it's you. I don't know, I never met you before this started happening. I'm just noticing that you're getting worse the closer we get to the Throne Room, and I'm running exclusively on previous experiences with little evidence supporting otherwise." Wilbur shrugged. "Winona and Tyler both say that you weren't always such a terrible person, so hey. You've got that going for your character."

"Like your heart is locked in a cage…" I murmured, pressing one hand to my chest. I suddenly understood, with perfect clarity, where Wilbur's mind was. He had dealt with Nightmare before, and it had made him feel things and do things that weren't him.

I remembered a conversation I had had with Webber, not too long ago.

"Sometimes, I still think of you as like a son. And it makes me worry about you."

"What about the other times?"

"The other times, I'm not myself at all. I can't think of you as anything when I can't even think anything of myself."

I only noticed when a spot of blood welled up on my thumb that I was picking at my fingers again.

"If that's… true. If my heart is really locked in a cage," I gave carefully. "Then… what? What can I do if I even wanted to fix it?"

"Well, that's a shame. Because I'm been asking myself a very similar question for a very long time."

"But you broke free from Nightmare's influence."

He shook his head. "Nightmare got tired of me, more like. It could control a lot of what I felt and thought, but like I said, it couldn't control what I felt for Roselyn and Elizabeth. And it was that that allowed me to think freely enough for Nightmare to drop me like a sack of rocks."

"You're telling me to get a girlfriend," I deadpanned. Wilbur immediately started laughing.

"Absolutely not. Did I not mention it took me over four thousand years to meet Roselyn? Some people never settle down. Whether or not you have a mate and kids is not relevant. It's the love you feel for the people around you. Family doesn't always mean blood, and it doesn't always mean parents or mates or children. Family is what you make of it. Nightmare can control many things. It can affect many emotions, twist your feelings and your thoughts into something not you." He lowered his voice a bit as if sharing a secret. "But there's something They don't want you to know. Nightmare's one weakness. You see, the one thing Nightmare has never been strong enough to conquer... is love. Yes, I loved Elizabeth and Roselyn, and yes, they were my family in the most literal sense of the word." Wilbur looked away with a gentle smile growing on his face. "But I also love Tyler, even though we don't share a drop of blood. Do you know who I don't love?" He raised one hand and started counting on his fingers. "My mother. My father. My siblings. The ones I am related to by blood. Hate all of them with a passion. You know what they say: The blood of the troop is thicker than the water of the womb."

Wilbur started forward again, shaking the melting snow off of his fur as he led the way. I stumbled after him, brow furrowed in confusion as I took in his words.

Some of his words made sense. I knew very well that people would often call close companions family. How many people in the world had an uncle that wasn't related to them at all?

But to love someone outside of your family? That couldn't be right. It just… sounded wrong. You could care about people, like them and want to see them happy and safe, but that didn't equate to love.

"You're overthinking it," Wilbur said without looking back. I startled, wondering for a moment if I had been speaking out loud before just deciding that he was reading me based on experience. "You keep lumping love into one big conglomerate, when it's way more complicated than that. Do you feel the same way about your parents as you do your grandparents? Siblings? Cousins? Of course not. You can love in a million different ways."

I had to jog to keep up. "Wait."

Wilbur turned to me with folded arms, his eyes sparkling with passion. I hesitated. He knew exactly what he was talking about. And honestly, it struck me that he really did have age on me. Even alongside Winona, I still often felt like the adult of the group. Maybe it was because of the fact that Wilbur was smaller than me, but I always lumped him into the younger category in my head.

That wasn't true, though. He was my elder by more years than I could even comprehend. It was easy to pass off his words as the wishful thoughts of a child, but that would simply be wrong.

I swallowed hard and released the breath I didn't know I was holding. "What… what do you suggest then? If Nightmare's control over me is… because I've forgotten how to love? How can I fix that?"

The monkey was quiet for a moment, then another. Just when I thought he wasn't going to give a response, he spoke. "I don't know. It's… something you'd have to learn on your own. After I lost my girls, I fell right into that trap as well. Trauma can do that to someone. Trauma like losing people you loved, or even facing death yourself." I winced, hands immediately flying towards the scars hidden beneath my shirt. Did he know about them? About the fight I had lost against the Dragonfly? "So… the only thing you really can do is try to heal. And I know it's easier said than done. Believe me I know. But it's possible. It just takes a little effort, and a whole lot of time." He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. Then, finally, with another little smile, he added:

"But there's no better time to start than now."