Hey, guys, it's me, Jesspikapal, but you probably already knew that!

So, I've been heavily addicted to the game Don't Starve for a while now and was thinking it'd be fit to write a story about it. It'll be a Wilson/OC (yeah, I'm lame like that, so sue me) and a chapter fic. I'm not quite sure though... it's funny, because this story is going to almost random in terms of plotting, yet I have the sequel all sorted out if I ever get that far. Anyhow, here's to hoping my story will be a success~! Also, I'm imagining Wilson as part of the fanart I've seen on Deviantart – so please, look him up there, and you'll understand why he seems a little more "in detail" than his regular game-play self.

Please review and tell me what you thought! I'd love to hear your opinions~!


X x

Lost and Found -"It's funny, you can be within a group of people and still feel completely lost. It's ironic that the person who usually finds you IS you..."

X x

It was difficult being the chosen one. The one bound to knowledge that had never before been told; the one who was expected to express interest in these nuggets of wisdom; the one who was supposed to use his endless scientific innovation in order to exploit the never before told secrets. And now that he had that knowledge... it completely sucked. He couldn't help being smart – couldn't help being a genius. And here he was, paying the price for being clever.

There he sat in the midst of a forest, his head throbbing and his hand stinging from the cut he had made into it in order to get that damned machine working.

"Say, pal, you don't look so good," he had heard. Charming, he thought as he mentally smoothed his own hair over. The mysterious man wouldn't have looked so good had he been whisked through a mysterious "warp-zone" either. "You'd better find something to eat before night comes." and then he vanished, without a trace. His vision slightly blurred, Wilson sat himself up and surveyed what he could see of his surroundings. Bushes coated with berries, grass fluffy and looking luxurious as ever and a couple of rocks and pieces of flint scattered the ground.

Getting up meekly, he steadied himself and began to collect things. As soon as he had the correct tools to do so, he immediately made a makeshift axe. It was pretty decent for something made out of pure instinct and wood.

"I suppose this will do," he mused quietly, beginning to make quick work of a tree, collecting the logs left behind. His pockets in this "world" were bizarre – they held many items and seemed not to take up any space at all. After a brief experiment (picking numerous pieces of grass and stuffing them in until he could carry no more in order to see how much his pockets would enable him to hold at any given time), he proceeded to count out his current supplies, checking he had enough for a camp-fire. He definitely had. With wood and flint to spare.

He inspected the sky, but it was still light out – now he needed to find food. As Wilson wandered through the eerie forest, he began to doubt his capabilities. He was a scientist, but what good would that do him if there was nothing to create in a world so bleak that hope itself would flee? What could he possibly do? Perhaps... he could build some kind of contraption in order to be able to make scientific things – or at least adapt what he could already build to suit his needs better? It was his best shot right now – what else did he have to lose? But the science machine was for later as, for now, he was beginning to feel his stomach rumble and groan against his will. Damn humans and their necessities!

"Hmm..." he murmured as he came face to face with a rabbit. Flexing his fingers and stretching his legs, he readied himself to charge towards it; then, with a furious battle cry ("I will destroy you!"), he swung his axe at the little critter – and missed. The rabbit darted down a hole and refused to come out, even when Wilson feigned his leave, like masterminds did. Eventually giving in, he began to drag himself away from the hole and headed towards the trees. There seemed to be nothing for him. Was he going to die here...? No! No, of course not! He couldn't die here, the world had yet to witness his brilliant scientific capabilities!

With a new found determination, he picked himself up and began to search; as it came to be, he found four carrots, two sets of seeds, a handful of berries and another rabbit, in which he had sneaked up on and killed successfully. After downing the rabbit with a gluttonous growl, Wilson wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and began to search around for a suitable place to camp. For whatever reason, it was beginning to get dark now, whereas minutes before, it had been the equivalent of midday.

"It's getting late. I should make a fire..." he whispered to himself, beginning to scuttle in the wilderness, searching for a suitable place to make camp. He could eat more once he was settled.

As he made his way through the brambles and bracken, he found a nice spot that was between two big trees and next to a bush that had berries growing on it laboriously. Gingerly, he took out his crafting material to make the fire and set it alight, smiling to himself as a feeling of accomplishment washed over him. He was going to be just fine... though that didn't explain the man who had dumped him there's actions. Maxwell, his name was if he remembered correctly. Which he was sure he did. What motives did he have to dump Wilson here? Did he even have motives? Perhaps he was just a cruel puppet-master in need of some toys to keep him occupied for a while before he eventually got bored and killed them off. The thought sent a chill through the scientist as the world around him faded to dark, leaving only the quaint gentle light of the fire to aid his vision.

And then the thought came back to him suddenly: those berries!

Slowly, he stood up, stumbling in the darkness as he dashed to where he felt the bush had been in the daylight, eventually locating it with just enough light to pick the berries accordingly. It was off-putting to do such a task in the dark, but probably for the best; after all, if he was to light a torch, there was a good chance something around him would also catch fire. And he was in no mood to deal with extra 'casualties'.

"I had a feeling they we- wait, what was that?" he pulled back hastily, berries in hand, as he heard a guttural growl from somewhere past the trees. He stiffened, his back erect as he listened closely, his breath hitching in the silence. Something in him cursed him – it was against Science to be thinking that some kind of monster was out there; monsters didn't exist after all. That was when he noticed the fire dying out, nothing but tiny sparks alight. He had no choice. He'd have to light a torch.

Fumbling with his tools blindly, he managed to light a stick rather quickly and immediately held it up in front of him, looking around more confidently this time around. There was nothing that could even startle him now! Still, he found himself scuttling back to the fire to set it up once more, only for the sun to shoot up moments later.

X x

And that had only been day one. He had been here for a grand total of ten days now, all the naïvety and optimism having been drained out of him, slowly but surely. That happy sense of accomplishment whenever he made it through to the next day was quivkly replaced with the bitter urge to just disappear. Now it seemed there was nothing for him but gruelling, hard routine. He was in no way starving – he had plenty of supplies, both in his pockets and his now-structured back-pack, and he always had enough material by the end of the day to make a decent camp fire. It wasn't running out of life he was worried about so much – it was never returning home. How was he supposed to become a proper scientist if he was to never make it out of this hell-hole alive? It seemed trivial to most, but the Gentleman Scientist, though accurate, was only a self-given title; he'd have loved nothing more than to be a world-renowned scientist in which everybody looked up to. He'd finally prove he wasn't mad, just ambitious and experimental in his affairs.

Gobbling some berries, he paused for thought – he had shaven his beard that morning and his face was oddly cold and feeling empty; a cool breeze was building up and he could only guess it wouldn't be pleasant in the near future. He sighed, and trekked through the trees, one foot in front of the other like an old song he'd sang one too many times to sing it cheerily any longer. He used to hum and even sing on some occasions while walking... now it was a wonder he stayed up and moving instead of stubbornly slumping in the dirt like an ill-fledged loser.

"When did my life turn so dull...?" Wilson mumbled as he bent down and hoarded some berries together. By now, he had so many, he could have fed an entire country. He wasn't one for wallowing in his own self-pity and sorrow, but what else was there after being strong and hopeful for so long?

Shovelling a selection of seeds and berries into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully and chopped a tree down, collecting the logs together like a sheepdog gathering its sheep together.

And that was when he saw it.

A hand. A human hand. Checking his vital signs, he did a double take. He was perfectly sane... but there was nobody else here! He had spent days searching for another! A Week even! But then he had given up... why was this here?! Why now?! Was this another one of Maxwell's cruel schemes? He'd encountered enough of them (his sanity slipping, the monsters that chased him, hounds in particular, shortage of food as the days continued, and the list went on and on), it wouldn't surprising if there were more.

Clutching his dirty vest above his heart ,which was now pumping vigorously in both anxiety and hope, he dropped his scientist-values for a fraction of a second and prayed to some kind of God that this was real. That he was seeing something human. It didn't seem like a huge deal, particularly as he was a human himself, but it was beyond relieving after no type of human contact for more than a week! He couldn't wait to meet the person and-

"Oh my..." he whispered to himself as he saw a small girl lying face down on the floor. He would have presumed her dead... if she hadn't been mumbling to herself. Slowly, he stuck a foot out and forced himself to walk forwards, the soft grass beneath his feet suddenly feeling ominous and odd. "E-Excuse me...?" he managed to force out, his voice a squeak. Mentally, he slapped himself. What a first impression!

The mystery female tensed, before lifting her head and turning to the person who seemed to be talking to her. Her big, bleak eyes studied him: his hair was most definitely fabulous, and a proud shade of black, propped atop his head certainly like an exotic hat. His slightly tussled red vest gave her the implication he had been there for a while – just as she had. A full seven days, and she was ready to quit. Silently, she wondered if he was even real. She hadn't eaten in a while...

Meanwhile, he found his eyes guiltily drinking her image in. Not because he was stooping to low ungentlemanly ways – how ludicrous! - but because it really was surreal to see another person. He knew it was rude to stare, but in this set of circumstances, how could he not? She was wearing a tattered pair of leggings that reached the bottom of her shins, leaving the last quarter of leg showing. However, her socks looked as if they could cover that easily with how they were bunched around her ankles as if she had run a very far distance in a very short time. Her torso was covered by a dirty shirt, and her arms, bare and pale, were littered with bandages. Her long brown hair stopped at her mid-back and curled up venomously at the bottom of it, as if a warning sign to others to stay away. He wouldn't heed that warning, however. Oh no.

"Sorry... I haven't seen a person in so long, I figured it'd be fine to talk to myself and not face consequences..." she suddenly spoke, pulling him out of his bewildered stupor. She chuckled meekly at her little joke and he made room for a smile, polite as always. How long had she been there? He was curious. But he didn't dare ask.

"Understandable," he gave his best knowledgeable grin, despite how wary he was feeling. Even if this was a dream (knowing his captor, soon to be nightmare) conjured up by Maxwell or some other evil force, he didn't want it to end. Not yet. The human contact was simply too special. "I am in the same predicament actually. I have been here for a little over a week, and in that time, have not seen another human either."

Her already big eyes seemed to widen a fraction at this; he looked fine if only a little bit rugged around the edges.

"I see... I've been here a week," she replied, barely audible. Wilson strained to hear her, fearing her image was already fading. "And I'm.." she trailed, looking at him wearily. "I'm so tired..." and with that, collapsed. The gentleman rushed forward to catch her before she could smack her head on the dirt and managed to successfully. He managed to prop her on one of his long legs, before shifting her into his arms, though not without worrying about how light she was. Probably some kind of indication that she hadn't eaten in a while. Perhaps a long while.

Wilson clumsily arrived back at his temporary camp site in the nick of time, the dusk just beginning to settle. He thought the usual thought: "It's getting dark. I should make a fire."

Gently, he leaned her against him and took a bundle of fluffy grass out of his back-pack, making a slight cushion for the little lady – as to keep her head off of the floor. Had he had the proper surroundings, he would have offered her better hospitality – particularly as she was a female – but he was unperturbed as her scrawny body rested across the floor with only her head slightly elevated. That was the best he could do – he was not going to bend over backwards to hospitalise her simply because he felt slightly blessed to have come across another human.

As he watched her sleeping peacefully, he sighed outwardly, a slightly cold expression coming onto his face.

"You better not bring me trouble..."

X x

First chapter out of the way and completed! I hope this is okay – for this chapter, I was focusing more on Wilson's desperate and Gentleman persona – the type that would hold the door open for a lady and such things. But don't worry – he's not going to be a complete softie throughout the whole thing; he'll get over the joys of having found another person, trust me. XD

Anyways, please review~!