Alright, I've gathered some components to…something, and I've set up a base of sorts, Wilson thought as the fourth day dawned. Silk and pig skin are vital now…but maybe I should just gather what I can while I can. This confused area is perfect for that, since it has some of everything.

Except twigs. Ugh.

He'd already used up all of his twigs getting his basic supplies sorted out. Spiky trees, which were still scattered randomly about, could provide twigs, but that was such a waste, and he had no ax left anyway.

But he did have a shovel now, and he went back to where he'd started so he could dig up the stumps for more logs. He spent the whole day gathering whatever he could, even picking a few spiky bushes clean for the twigs, ignoring the scrapes on his hands that he was left with. As he worked, it occurred to him that he was actually pursuing a way home.

A way home. After being stuck in the fake world for so long, home was a distant memory, barely more than a dream - the idea of actually being able to go back was surreal. By the time he'd stumbled on that portal, yeah, he'd been searching for a way out, but that had been more for the sake of having a purpose to keep him relatively sane than actual hope that such a thing was out there.

Now, with a more immediate and clearly defined challenge before him, setting up a full base camp would be a waste. His objective was clear: Find the things, put them together, get out. How many things were there? He'd find out when he found them. Would the resulting contraption actually send him home, or just to another fake world of Maxwell's making so he could do it all again? It was worth a shot.

When night fell, he started a fire grumpily. I really need a miner's helmet, too, he thought; with no fire in the equation, the light will be a lot easier to maintain.

Aside from a small fraction of the day, it had rained continuously, though the intensity of the rain did change at times, and Wilson wanted to get away from his stuff before another round of frogs started raining from the sky. As soon as the sun rose, he slung on his backpack, stored away everything he couldn't use on the go, chose a direction he hadn't been in yet, and started walking as quickly as he could.

A redbird flew by, and Wilson thought of his beloved pet with surprising wistfulness. It had been a very long time since he'd felt lonely - since just a few days after he'd first been dragged from his home, in fact. He'd had Otto von Chesterfield, then Mr. Ruber Feathers, and even the baby tallbird that had gone and turned on him once it had grown up…but now, he was alone again.

I wonder if Otto von Chesterfield is in this place somewhere, he thought as he walked, trying to ignore the rain. He was as much a part of this place as the birds and the bees; surely this new false world isn't that different from the first…

He'd have to find the Eyebone, though, if it was indeed anywhere to be found.

Silk, he reminded himself. Focus. I need silk. I don't need company, but I do need silk. And twigs, if I see any saplings, any at all.

The confused land continued on for a while…in fact, it looked pretty much the same as the one that had been in the first world. Wilson tried not to get too distracted with thoughts of whether or not this place was something Maxwell had made intentionally or simply a jumbled mosaic of bits that just sort of happened as a result of his world-making…

Squish.

Wilson looked down. To his surprise, he was standing in manure. But I didn't hunt down a Kolaefant, he thought, and there aren't any pigs or Beefalo…

He looked up, just as a Beefalo made a lowing sound.

What in the world…?

A single Beefalo was roaming around without care, far from any savannah terrain. There shouldn't be a Beefalo here! Wilson thought, alarmed. Beefalo don't just happen wherever!

Or at least, not in the first fake world he'd been in. Clearly, Maxwell had changed more rules than Wilson had previously thought. This one wasn't particularly worrisome, but it did make him that much more concerned about what other rules might have changed.

Wilson shook the manure off his shoe and kept walking. It was still raining, and his foot was clean within minutes. So I've found a Beefalo in a place where it shouldn't be…but I still haven't seen any spiders anywhere, he thought. With a sigh, he took out the divining rod again. The signal was still faint, so he pocketed it again. I don't even know where to look for anything anymore…

And then, just a second later, he came across a spider nest.

It was a small, tier-1 size, and he knew that meant three spiders inside and two pieces of silk if he destroyed it now. I haven't seen any others, so destroying it now wouldn't be wise, he decided, taking out his spear. He lured the three spiders out one at a time, drawing them well away from the nest before killing them; he only got one piece of silk and one spider gland, though, and monster meat that was of no use to him without a crock pot. One is better than none, he told himself as he walked away from the now-empty nest. Three would be better than one, it was true, but he didn't know if he'd find any other nests to get more from, and he needed a lot.

He looked back at the Beefalo as it made a noise, and it occurred to him that a lone Beefalo would probably be perfect for trying to get a Beefalo horn, since there was no herd to gang up on him - it would probably be the same as hunting a Koalefant. Which reminds me, I need to look out for Koalefant tracks, too, he thought, getting frustrated. Argh, there's so much to do! I just want to get out of here, why does there have to be so much to do?! For winter would happen, he knew that for a fact. He checked the sky…and was alarmed to see that dusk had already almost ended. And was it his imagination, or was the temperature already significantly lower than midsummer heat?

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…! Panic rose in Wilson's chest - was winter coming already? It hadn't even been five days! And he had nothing - no vest, no hat, not even earmuffs, and no heat stone.

He ran back to his science machine, heedless of the frogs that were raining once more - if nothing else, he needed to use his pickaxe to make a new heat stone, now. He remembered the ingredients, and he tossed them all into his machine and pulled the lever.

Nothing happened.

Even more alarmed, Wilson tossed in his pickaxe and all the stones of both sharpnesses that he could scrounge up, thinking maybe he'd gotten the recipe wrong.

Still nothing.

The alchemy engine told me how to make the heat stone, he remembered; is a simple science machine just not capable of it? He'd never bothered to wonder, he'd gotten his first alchemy engine going so quickly, before he'd even thought to experiment with the things he used to create things according to the engine's instructions…

He started to panic again, even more severely than before. Calm down, he told himself; you have plenty of logs and stones, and there's plenty of gold around here; you can make a new alchemy engine before tomorrow night if you hurry.

So hurry he did, and he had a new alchemy engine again quickly. It told him that yes, he'd had the ingredients right the first time; a science machine just wasn't capable of analyzing them and showing him how to put them together. He had a heat stone before morning, and having lit a fire pit upon nightfall, filled it with tinder, getting the heat stone to soak up as much heat as it possibly could. He then spent the rest of the night making a couple of animal traps to use on the rabbits he'd seen earlier.

When the sixth day dawned, cold as autumn, he quickly went to trap some rabbits; by nightfall, he had a new pair of earmuffs. He kept the heat stone as toasty hot as possible, worried but no longer panicking.

Just as well, too, because when the next day came, the world was tinged blue, and snowbirds fluttered past.

After only seven days, winter had come.