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Luggs

A Cold Winter's Night

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Luggs    668

I do a tiny bit of writing and wished to apply it to one of my favourite games.

A Cold Winter's Night

He was tired. Hadn't slept in days. But as Wilson gazed into the fire, he knew he had to stay awake. Dang hounds could attack at any moment. Throwing twigs into the fire, he sat himself down on a log, a rudimentary seat but it would have to do. A strong wind blew through the camp, sending chills down Wilson's spine. He buried his hands in his beard, now long and unruly. He needed a shave. After winter perhaps. After summer's warmth returned.

A growl echoed through the plains. Instantly, Wilson bolted upwards, gripping his spear tightly. It was only when it echoed a second time did he realize it was not the sound of a feral monster but of his stomach. He hadn't eaten in three days. Wilson looked over at his berry fields. Damn Gobblers had eaten them all the day before. His bees were dormant for the winter. That left Wilson with one option. He hobbled over to his ice box and opened the small door.

Wilson's heart sunk. There was only one piece of monster jerky and rot had already started taking it. Somewhere in the distance, a ferocious roar echoed and with that, Wilson made his decision. He grabbed the piece of meat and ate it as fast as he could. It hit his stomach like a rock.

Gradually, the sun's gentle rays crept across the sky. With the rising sun, Wilson smiled ever so slightly. Taking his trusty axe, Wilson set off in search of food. He wasn't going to starve. Not yet.

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