Chapter 6: What's A Treeguard?

Maybe Maxwell didn't control the weather patterns in this world. That was the conclusion Wilson came to after the events of another dreadfully rainy day.

The rain had struck hard in the morning, clearly a storm much stronger than the last one. Wilson feared what would happen to his campfire if the rain chose to stay overnight. It came down hard, soaking everything it touched. Already Wilson was shivering and sneezing. He prayed he didn't get sick. He wasn't sure a spider gland could fix that.

A loud boom erupted overhead. Lightning and the resulting thunder. It would definitely be a storm much worse than the last one. Wilson meekly pulled his vest over his hair and huddled close to his fire, keeping a steady stream of twigs flowing into it to keep up the warmth and light. Nightfall was coming, he was sure of it.

A loud CRACK made him jump, whirling to look behind him. Lightning struck into the forest east of his camp. Perhaps it struck a tree. The smoke curling in the distance concerned him but he turned back to his campfire to keep it alive.

Several minutes passed before Wilson broke down into a fit of sharp coughs. His eyes were watering and his lungs burned with the lack of fresh oxygen. Was his vision getting hazy?

No, that was smoke! And not from his campfire!

He turned and gasped. Between the thick greenery of the forest came flashes of orange, gradually growing nearer. Fire. The forest was on fire. The lightning had set the forest behind him aflame.

Panic set in. What if the flames spread to his camp? It would eat up all of his supplies, his Science Machine, all the wood he'd stocked up for his campfire. Night was nearly on him and there was a mighty fire surging toward his camp. He doubted he'd have enough time to put together a torch.

If only the pond was closer! If he could fashion a bucket, maybe he could put the flames out! But…the rain didn't seem to be doing much to the fire to begin with. Maybe they were immune to water? At this point, anything of Maxwell's seemed possible.

The flames roared closer, devouring whole trees in droves. Most of the eastern forest that he could see was reduced to smoky black spires clawing at the stormy sky. The rain seemed to be putting the fires of the burnt trees out quickly but did nothing to quell the spreading flames. They rushed nearer to Wilson's camp, hungry.

Wilson forced himself into action, stuffing his backpack and pockets full of his essentials. Maybe night would be merciful and give him time to fashion a torch in the wilderness before the night monster could get him. He lamented the loss of his Science Machine, that had taken him quite a while…to…make…?

The backpack dropped to the ground. Wilson watched in shock as the flames suddenly dispersed. The rain had caught up at last. That or the fire had run out of trees to consume. The rain beat down on the smoking trees, scattering ash and soot along the ravaged ground.

"Say pal, better build that up before Charlie gets her teeth into you."

Wilson jumped, whipping back around to his campfire. Across from him on the other side of it stood Maxwell, nearly doubled over at the waist to better observe the scientist. He chuckled, cigar smoking between his teeth. The demonic man seemed entirely unaffected by the rain, as if he had an invisible full-body umbrella around him. The raindrops refused to touch him, unlike the currently soaked and shivering Wilson.

"Charlie? Who's Charlie?"

And like that, the world suddenly went black. Wilson nearly screamed. His fire was out. Night was here. The only light came from Maxwell's cigar.

The scientist rushed into action, tearing logs and twigs from his pockets to relight the fire. The flames sprung forth, eagerly burning up the organic matter he desperately fed it. Maxwell straightened, suppressing his laughter as he watched the younger man struggle. When the fire was sufficiently tended to, blazing merrily between them, Wilson fell back and gasped in relief.

"You seem to have a love-hate relationship with fire, Higgsbury," Maxwell chuckled, removing his cigar to exhale smoke.

"I need it to stay alive thanks to your monster," Wilson hissed. "And you never answered my question! Who is—"

"I'm surprised at your luck. All that fire and not a single Treeguard," Maxwell noted, surveying the burnt forest. "I had thought for certain one would have awoken by now to wreak havoc. Strange…"

The word sent a shiver down Wilson's spine. Treeguard. There was a monster in the forests. Judging from the name, it guarded trees. Why?

"Maybe I need to make more and spread them out. That should make things more interesting," Maxwell commented, replacing his cigar between his teeth.

Oh god, don't do that, please, part of Wilson begged in terror.

Maxwell hummed, taking another drag of his cigar. Then he stepped back, the shadows drawing him in like an old friend. His cigar burned briefly…and then he was gone.

That didn't alleviate the fear and confusion. Who was Charlie? What was a Treeguard?

Wilson made a note to pay better attention when he went into the forests next, in case he ran into one of these Treeguards.