Webber's POV

"Whoa, whoa, hey, take it easy," Wilson cautioned, supporting us with his shoulder. "You haven't been on your feet in awhile. You're probably very weak right now."

"Haha, yeah, we can tell," I laughed nervously, trying to keep from collapsing. Our knees felt weak and refused to lock into a standing position. Our legs ached, but it was a slight pain, not at all like the burning agony we used to feel in them.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Better. A lot better actually." We gave him a toothy grin. "Thanks a lot, Wilson. We probably would've died without you."

"Nah, I don't think so. You said that you survived on your own for awhile, so we probably would die without you." He looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, "WX seemed pretty eager to get you back on your feet. I'm not sure if he wanted to fight something or if he really wanted you better, but hey, it's a nice thought anyway."

"Speaking of the devil, where is he?"

He laughed a bit. "I honestly have no idea. He was gone when I woke up so." He shrugged. "He found a new area, so he might be over there, but he never tells me anything. Why'd you ask?"

"He was acting really strange the other day."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... he asked if we were feeling better, you know, after the whole insanity episode?" He nodded, so we continued. "It wasn't as much what he said it was how he said it. He sounded a touch worried for some reason, and he spoke almost... gently."

"Are you sure you weren't still feeling the effects of insanity?"

"We might've been, given the circumstances." Beginning to get uncomfortable with the conversation, we changed the subject. "Winter's coming."

"How can you tell?"

We didn't say anything, slightly surprised. How can you not tell? "The air is crisp," I said slowly. "and clean, like snow, is on its way. The air has a slight, frosty chill for it, that you wouldn't get unless you were very late into fall or early winter. Can't you tell?" We broke away from him holding us up and sat.

"Your senses must be stronger than mine because I can't tell any of that." He smiled. "Pretty impressive, Webber."

"Thanks," I huffed. We didn't even walk and we're out of breath! It's going to take forever to be able to walk properly again!

"I don't want you two fighting," Wilson said after a minute, and we turned sharply to look at him.

"We have no idea what you're talking about."

"You and WX. I don't want you two fighting... or at least wait until you can walk properly again."

"Whaaaat? Us, fighting? That sounds nothing like us. We are an innocent little seven-year-old, Wilson. Never hurt another person in our life." We couldn't keep a straight face, and even Wilson cracked a smile.

"I can only wish."

"We're angels, WX and us."

"Let's see how you two are when you can walk properly. Come on, you aren't going to get your strength back sitting." He grabbed us by the uninjured arm and pulled us up again, letting us lean against him. "Try walking."

"We can't," I puffed.

"Just try. One step at a time."

Our legs could barely support us, but at his urging, we forced them to move. It was a jerky movement, but it was enough. It was exhausting, but despite our reluctance, we knew we had to, or else it would only get worse. Determination set in our features as we tried another step.

"It's going to get easier," he promised.

"When?" I growled, taking another shaky and hesitant step.

"Eventually. You've been crippled for weeks."

"Weeks?" I echoed. "It's already been weeks?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Come on, focus. I know this is draining your energy, but you have to."

We almost argued. We almost told him to stop, but when we looked at him to see his partially relieved, partially concerned, and partially gentle and understanding, we couldn't bring ourself to. He's really trying to help us... and he's probably helping us a great deal. It's difficult now but it'll get better. "Thank you," I managed, forcing a smile. His eyes glimmered.

"Trust me. You'll be better in no time."

The air smelt of frost and dying leaves. With dawn came mist, giving the woods an eerie orange sheen as the light from the sun reflected off of it. We could hear animals scuffling in the undergrowth, preparing themselves for the barren winter. Food will get scarcer, but our skills will become all the more valuable. We clenched our fist around our handmade knife, feeling our fingers slide easily into the grip. This world was made for us. Just like this knife. We fit in. Squeezing our eyes shut, we tightened our grip.

No.

Reluctantly, we forced ourself to open our eyes and look around, noting the fact our hearing dimmed slightly as we did. Interesting. However tempting the blade was, we weren't that desperate.

Yet.

Stop that. You have a job to do, Webber. You have this blade for a reason. The others count on us. They act like they know what they're doing, but neither of them has proper instincts. We let out a deep breath we didn't know we were holding. This winter will be tough. We might have to carry this entire group through spring. Or at least until they understand that this world isn't going to hold their hands. This world is set out to kill us.

This world is going to kill us.

For crying out loud- Stop that Webber! We felt something warm run down our hand and through our fur, and we sharply looked down to see claws digging into our palm. We stood, closing our eyes again and letting the forest's sounds engulf our senses. When our eyes were open, we couldn't tell if the rustling was from the browning leaves still hanging on to the otherwise barren treetops or animals scurrying in the dry leaf mold, but when our eyes were closed we could hear the differences. Animals made a light thumping sound along with their rustling, while we could distinguish the faint sound of branches bumping against each other as they swayed along with their dying burdens.

The world was somehow almost scarier when we heard it like that.

There! A small, furry animal, near us. We took a few steps forward, listening, then lunged towards the sound. The brown animal, its fur beginning to turn white for the cold months ahead, screamed and thrust itself forward with surprising speed.

It wasn't fast enough.

Weeks after Wilson had given us the all-clear, we had spent trying to be able to walk and run again. Now, we were almost able to run as fast as we could before the accident, and clearly, it was enough to give us the edge on the rabbit, and not five seconds after its initial flight it was caught and stabbed by the knife in our hand. A satisfied grin set itself on our face, as we flicked the animal's blood off of our hands. We need to learn how to kill cleaner, but otherwise not a terrible kill. The mist was beginning to clear, so the sounds were becoming even louder as they were no longer deterred by the watery air.

We looked back at where we had come from, towards our camp. It may become difficult, but we can survive.

After all, it's not the first time we've been in this situation.

And at least this time we're not alone.