Chapter 1 of 5

A Cold Reception

Webber's POV

The air had been unusually warm before the rain had started up, but the warmth was starting to dissipate. Instead, I noticed hints of winter frost on the wind, something that should have been impossible if it was spring here at the moment. And yet, my senses had never failed me. I didn't know the laws of this land. Perhaps the seasons worked differently, with only two functional seasons.

The idea itself was impossibly stupid, even in my head, but I had to take it at face value. I honestly didn't have the energy to question it much.

The four of us huddled under the wide branches of what appeared to be a birchnut tree, although one that was taller and fuller than any birchnut I had ever seen. Our protection from the elements was meager, but better than nothing. As the rain grew heavier, it only drew the four of us closer and closer to the trunk. Which, unfortunately for me, had the added effect of forcing me into close quarters with the others when all I wanted was to be alone.

Winona and Wilson were speaking to each other in hushed tones, but the bite of Winona's words told me it wasn't a pleasant conversation. Her anger had softened but was still very much present. That left Wilbur by me, his brown fur almost black from his drenching. I chose not to engage in conversation with him and he allowed the silence to stretch. It was a comfort. I remained sitting with my back to the bark of the tree's grand trunk, perched on one of its twisting roots that erupted from the ground. I gazed out into the torrential downpour and tried not to nod off.

At one point, Winona glanced at me with a strange expression. As she did, I realized I was humming to myself, and immediately stopped.

"Don't let them stop you," Wilbur murmured. He appeared to have given up his alertness and now had his eyes closed. "You can hum if you want."

I didn't.

Soon, all-too-soon, the light was starting to wane into dusk. The rain had calmed only slightly, and so it was still impossible to tell the exact time, but I recognized twilight when I saw it.

"It's getting dark," Wilson observed aloud, just moments before I could make the same statement.

Winona picked at the strap of her overalls, face creased in a frown. "How can you tell? It can't have been more than a few hours since the rain started up."

"Wilson's right," I said. "I guess we did probably wake up late in the day."

The words broke the quiet air that had fallen between us. I finally dragged myself to my feet and stretched, legs quivering as I stretched them out one by one. Wilbur did the same, uncurling like a catcoon and drowsily blinking up at the others.

"It doesn't look like the rain will stop any time soon. We need to set up camp here." Wilson's words were, for all intents and purposes, useless, but the spoken direction seemed to snap a sense of urgency back into our limbs. "...assuming we can even find a place that's dry enough."

"Ah, leave that to me," Wilbur said. He reached one hand out to Wilson as if to stop his train of thought, and shot me a grin. "If you think this is bad, I've had to build fires in hurricanes. You and I can set up the fire. Tell the others to... uh... I dunno, find something to eat. I'm starving and I'm sure you're starving."

I relay the message to Wilson and Winona, who both look varying levels of unsure about Wilbur's direction.

"It's still raining, though," Wilson complained. "If anyone goes out there, they're sure to at least catch a cold. The last thing we need is for someone to get sick again." I twitched at his comment and shot him an icy side-eye, but he didn't even seem to notice.

"You're a big boy," Wilbur said as he rolled his eyes. "Would you rather get the sneezes or starve to death?"

"We could just starve to death," I said to Wilson, echoing Wilbur's sentiment.

Wilson looked very much ready to argue, but Winona beat him to the punch and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's right. Let's just be quick and see what there is we can get."

The scientist closed his mouth and nodded. Winona wasted no time in delving back into the rain, and a moment later, Wilson joined her.

Wilbur turned back to me with a grin. "Alright. A Chiminea. You ever make one?" I shook my head and he clasped his hands together. "Perfect. Usually, you use limestone for something like this, but without that resource, we'll have to make do. Feel the dirt. Notice something about it?"

It wasn't much dirt anymore as it was mud, but I tried to follow his train of thought anyway. I dug my claws into the mud below me, shivering as the gooey substance oozed between my fingers. "Um..."

"Notice how sticky and heavy it is?"

I blinked down at it, then back at him. What was he going on about? "...because it's mud?"

"No!" Wilbur scooped up a ball of the mud and presented it to me, a glimmer in his eye. "It's clay! It's always important to keep an eye out for this kind of soil because it's really hard for things to grow in it. But! It's perfect for crafting!" With that, he beckoned me over with his tail and led me through the steps of molding the heavy mud into a decent fire protection.

"This would help for keeping a fire burning," I started uneasily as he worked. "But how in the world do you even get dry kindling when it's been raining this hard for this long?"
I almost expected Wilbur to be annoyed by the question, but instead, he seemed delighted that I asked. From there, he showed me how to get dry wood from under the damp bark of dead trees, and to use the fire to dry further kindling. By the time Wilson and Winona reappeared, it was almost too dark to see and Wilbur's fire was burning strong.

"There's no use," Wilson sighed. "There's nothing out there right now. The animals are all hiding from the rain and there's no edible plants, either. No berries, wild carrots, nothing."

"Any grass that could possibly be strong enough to use is also dried up," Winona reported. "Even with all the rain, there's very little usable out there."

"No berries, no meat," Wilbur muttered as he poked at the fire. He fed strips of dried bark into the hungry flames. "Looks like we'll need a couple of creatures with better senses to hunt if we actually want something to eat." He looked up at me as he spoke, but I decisively ignored his attention. Something about the idea of hunting animals turned my stomach. I pushed the feeling away. It made no sense. I had killed more animals than I could count at this point; I had no trouble hunting on the archipelago.

Or, maybe, I was just really hungry and the idea of hunting was bringing my attention back to that hunger.

We stayed there the rest of the night. None of us slept, even though the night seemed to drag on so much longer than any other night we had endured. I tried to sleep, which was better than Wilbur and Wilson, but I could never quite drift off. Eventually I noticed the rain slowing down to a sprinkle, and I took advantage of it.

Without the same resources I was used to, it was a bit harder than normal to fashion a torch to take out with me, but Wilbur's technique to dry kindling proved fruitful.

"What are you doing?" Winona asked as I worked.

"I'm going to find food," I responded. "The rain's slowed down, so maybe the animals will take advantage of it."

"It's still dark, though. I don't think it's really safe for any of us to leave camp until the sun comes back up," Wilson pointed out.

I didn't respond to his point. He was right, of course, but I wasn't stupid. I knew that it was dangerous to go out at night. I was simply more concerned with the buzzing in my feet telling me to be useful, to do something. I lit my torch and threw one last look towards my companions. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"If you're going out there, I'm joining you," Wilbur said. He dragged himself to his feet, clearly tired. I raised a hand to stop him.

"I'd rather be alone."

Wilbur cringed back as if I had physically hit him, but he relented. I tried not to scoff at his reaction. It wasn't as if I was going off to face a Giant. I just wanted to get on my feet and move.

I left the safety of the great tree behind and walked in one direction until the light of the fire disappeared from view. The ground was mush beneath my feet, oozing between my toes and clumping the fur of my legs as I trekked. It was unusually silent for a spring night, but that might have been from that pesky chill in the air. It was still there, hanging threateningly over us. It might have been spring now, or this world's equivalent, but winter was approaching nonetheless.

My journey through the forest was largely unremarkable, and I was soon leaving the trees behind entirely. Lush grass now coated the ground, but Winona and Wilson's assessment was correct: any usable tufts of thicker grasses were dry and dead. It was a strange combination, one that made me think it was entirely intentional. After about an hour, I knew that I should really be turning back, but the thought of being surrounded again caused shivers to run up my spine. Instead, I finally let myself rest on the plush grass. It was soft, softer than anything I would have expected though the rain was likely to thank for that.

The torch still had some time on it. I stuck the end upright into the ground and laid back to gaze at the sky. The rain had let up for now, and the clouds had all but disappeared. In their place were stars. Hundreds of them, more than I had ever seen before, in constellations I didn't recognize. Grass tickled my back, and rainwater soaked into my fur.

"We really are in another world," I muttered to myself. I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. "Not home, though. We're still so far away."

Find the machine.

The words appeared in my head without warning. I held a hand to my forehead and tried to forget them. Tried to forget everything related to Nightmare, actually.

Find the machine.

That's what it had told me to do before sending us here. What machine was it talking about?

I rolled onto my side and picked at the grass, shuddering as cold water soaked into more of my fur.

Find the machine.

We'll be waiting for you in Darkness, Young Heir.

I sat up abruptly as I remembered the demon's other words. "Waiting for me in darkness?" I echoed softly. I looked directly ahead, facing darkness on all sides. Darkness that was drawing steadily closer as my torch burned lower and lower.

I could test the theory blooming in my head. It would go against what Maxwell had said to us, but I didn't trust the man as far as I could throw him. The last time I trusted him, I had been ripped away from my homeland and forced into this twisted game. I didn't trust Nightmare either, of course, but there had been something eager in the demon's words. Something almost excited. As if it was giving me a puzzle that it couldn't wait for me to solve.

"Nightmare?" I called into the night. "Are... are you out there?"

I received no response. I couldn't tell whether to be disappointed or deeply relieved.

"I'm here!" I said again, louder. "I'm here. I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Right?" My words echoed into the shadows without reaction. I leaned back again and let out a frustrated huff, but when I spoke, my voice came out embarrassingly scratchy and raw. "Right?"

No reply. Nothing. Emptiness.

I could step into the darkness. The idea teased my mind, fluttering around like a caged bird. I couldn't quite catch it but I couldn't figure out how to release it. I could step into the darkness and force the monster in the dark to respond. To answer me. To see me.

But that wouldn't do anything. It wouldn't fix or solve anything.

At all.

At that, I released all of the breath in my chest. I didn't know why I even tried to make something happen. I knew nothing would.

I closed my eyes and leaned back again. Weariness dragged at my limbs, and not the kind that could just be slept off. I was tired. Desperately tired. And yet I knew that if I fell asleep here, in the waning light of a torch, far from my companions and even farther from home, there could only be one of two outcomes.

I could wake up in a new day, when the sun broke through the seemingly endless night and shooed the monster in the dark away. I might drag myself to my feet and wipe the sleep from my eyes before trudging back to the camp. I would undoubtedly be met by concern and frustration from the others. I could almost hear their voices asking me if I had a death wish, if I was stupid, why would I go out, didn't I understand the danger? I could see Wilbur's pitying expression as he asked me if I was okay, if something was wrong. Wilson's frustration and anger at my stupidity, deflected only by Winona's neverending thoughtfulness and consideration towards the youngest among them. Maybe they would scold me. Maybe I would listen to them. Maybe I wouldn't test the darkness again. Maybe I would live to see the end.

Or... the night may never end. I might fall asleep and never wake up. The torch might die long before the night, leaving my body helpless against the creatures that wanted me dead. Night-dwelling animals would find me long after my body had been mutilated by demons. And I would be nothing more than a faceless creature, maybe a food source. Maybe my death would allow for something else to live.

That second passed, and the thoughts were replaced by sickening nausea. I curled into myself and closed my eyes tighter, trying to force the images away. If I was going to die, I would die fighting.

Or I would die by my companions' hands. A mercy killing. To save the last of my humanity before it was lost forever to the spider that tried to take it away so long ago. Whatever my final moments looked like, I would not be patient in letting them come.

It was that resolve that dragged me back into a sitting position with the knowledge that I needed to return to camp. The torch was burning low, so I could only hope it would be enough to get me back. Or to last me until dawn. Whichever came first.

I had been smart enough to walk away in a straight line, so it was only a matter of walking in the opposite direction, following the same line, to find the others again. I was doing so, almost reaching the tree line if my mental map was accurate at all, when my fur started to prickle. I stopped abruptly in my tracks, a sixth sense of being watched causing my whiskers to tremble and sweat to immediately collect in my palms.

I swung around, causing the torch to waver and sputter but ultimately, it held. My eyes darted from shadow to shadow, straining to catch sight of whatever was watching me.

It was Nightmare. It had to be. I felt it in my gut. Sweat dampened the fur on the back of my neck as my lower stomach roiled with tense sickness. The instincts of my human half cried for me to run, cursing the trembles that caused my legs to feel shaky. The more animalistic instincts caused me to freeze as still as I could. The shaking couldn't be helped, but somehow, standing as still as possible seemed more likely to work than running from its eyes even though it was already well aware of my presence. The light was the only thing preventing it from coming closer.

When the shadows split, the terror surged into a fever pitch and broke my stance. I fell back, crashing against the ground straight onto my bottom as I shimmied away from the movement. The torch bounced on the ground, once again giving a dying sputter before catching on the wood itself rather than the kindling. I was using borrowed time and stolen light.

The thing to breach my shrinking circle of safety wasn't a beast or a monster, though. Rather, the second its form became clear to me, I cursed every bit of myself for my stupidity and childish fear.

It was a rabbit.

A small thing, likely not quite an adult, but big enough to be on its own. Acting as an animal with no predators would, it seemed to hold no fear of me. It had clearly never seen a human before, and if its bravery had anything to say, it had likely never seen a spider either. As it was, the little creature showed only curiosity to the visitor to its lands. It stopped a few paces away from me, tiny nose twitching and fur caked in mud.

Wordlessly, I offered a hand to the animal. It hesitated only a moment before nearing the offered hand and sniffing it. It didn't run or even flinch when I moved my hand down to pet between its long ears and scratch around its spindly antlers.

"Antlers!" Wilson had cried the first time he had seen one. "That's not a rabbit, that's a jackalope!"

"Nope, it's a rabbit," I had responded with a sort of arrogant huff. "The antlers just get in the way." I snapped them off effortlessly before using one claw to dig out the stumps. "It's easier to get rid of them when cleaning the animal."

"RABBITS DO NOT HAVE ANTLERS," WX-78 said, his words slow as if speaking to a particularly stupid child.

"Well, I'm holding one right now, and it clearly does. I'm right. You're wrong. End of discussion."

Somehow, knowing how fragile the appendages were made it all the more endearing to me. My claws had killed more rabbits than I could even count, but this one seemed to trust me enough to use those same claws to show it affection.

When its advances were reciprocated, the bunny closed the distance and climbed into my lap. A childish and entirely undignified giggle left my throat as it dug into my legs before settling in them.

"I can't stay, little guy," I informed it. It didn't seem to care. I didn't try to move it.

My claws twitched as the call of the void flashed images in my head. I knew how easy it was to kill a rabbit. I knew how fragile its spine was, exactly how much force it would take to snap its neck and kill it instantly, or how long it would take to bleed out after a fatal blow to its jugular. I felt its heart beating in its chest, far faster than most animals' heartbeats, and knew precisely how it felt when that beat stopped. It took almost more strength to keep my hold and touch gentle, knowing how easily the animal's decision to trust me would end with its death.

It was there, within reach of the forest my companions were camped in and yet too far for my voice to be heard that the torch finally fizzled out.

It was a slow process, one that I should have noticed happening long before it did, but it wasn't until the rabbit's fur was cast in shadow, just inches below my face, that I realized how long I had waited.

And I was left with darkness.

My body was quick to react to the threat before my mind even registered that I was out in the darkness. With my animal instincts winning again, I froze entirely. The rabbit was none the wiser, fast asleep in my lap. I drew my whiskers close to my face and tucked my hands closer to my side, but remained perfectly still otherwise.

Smaller target.

Don't notice me.

Don't notice me.

And it noticed me.

I was aware of its presence. Its breath just feet away from me. I tried to draw air into my chest, but it came as an awkward hiccup and produced far too much noise and movement. My claws tightened around the rabbit, almost as afraid for this too-trusting animal as I was for myself.

It was there. It was staring at me. It knew I was there. It knew that I was aware of it.

I was the rabbit, sitting directly in the lap of a creature that had killed hundreds just like it. I was the bunny, too stupid to see the danger directly in front of it. I felt the night's claws against me, purposefully gentle as to not cause harm to the little creature caught in its midst. It knew I was at its mercy, and yet its claws were gentle. It threaded its fingers through my fur, carefully unfolding my whiskers to scratch around the base of them. It regarded me curiously. The rabbit was struggling in my grip. Wide awake. Only one set of claws could be holding a weaker being so gently as the night was holding me. As its regarded my furred cheeks, my untamed spiderlike nature, with impossibly cautious movements so as to prevent my injury, mine grew harsher and harsher, dug deeper and deeper.

And when it suddenly left me alone, left my body unharmed and whole, something beneath my palm snapped.

I stayed perfectly still. I did not move. Don't notice me. Don't notice me. It already noticed me. It noticed me. It left me alone. It spared me.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die.

Dawn broke on the scene, hours later. I had not moved an inch. My whiskers remained out from where the creature in the dark had unfolded them, and my fur remained mussed from the borderline affectionate pets and scratches.

And the rabbit was dead. Had died long ago. Its little neck snapped by my hands. Its little heart still, and its blood drying on my fur.

The others were ecstatic to see me return to camp, whole and unscathed and with prey nonetheless. Wilbur wasted no time in taking the bunny from my white-knuckled grip and preparing it like he had so many animals just like it. He smiled at me and laughed as his claws tore its belly open and removed its mess of organs, its once fast-beating heart so small that Wilbur nearly accidentally crushed it like a berry and Winona patted me on the back for having brought back food and expressed her gratefulness that I had returned safely.

I forced the meat down while they were watching, and as soon as I could get out of their range of sight and hearing I scrambled behind a tree to vomit into the grass.

That was the last time I ate for days afterwards.