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After another cold and rainy spring day, Wilson and Willow huddled next to the fire under a single umbrella, slowly getting soaked despite their best efforts. It might have been romantic save for the gloating of WX-78, who was was zipping around camp with an umbrella all to himself. Wilson put his arm around his girlfriend and drew her close, squeezing out a stream of water from between their clothes.
“This sucks!” complained Willow. “When’s summer going to get here? I want everything to burn.”
“We’re only a few days into spring,” said Wilson. “We’ve got a long season ahead of us.”
“Oh, it’s days like this when I really miss the other world. At least I could stay inside for the April showers. Never cared for the May flowers though. They’re not very flammable.”
“I miss being able to just buy honey,” said Wilson, rubbing a swollen bee sting on his arm.
“I miss fireworks. I remember being a kid and thinking that the 4th of July fireworks were a gift for my birthday.”
“Oh, you were born in summer?”
“Yeah. July 3rd, ‘01. My Ma told me it was a real scorcher that year, fires all up and down the coast. Wish I remembered it.” Willow glared at the fire, as if it could magically transport her back. It really bothered Wilson to see his firecracker so miserable. There had to be a way to cheer her up. But what? She already had a lighter.
Wilson’s gaze fell to Wickerbottom, who had given up reading due to the kittykit lying on her book. Willow did like fawning over the ever increasing menagerie of cute, fuzzy animals in camp. Maybe she’d appreciate a pet of her own? But he didn’t want to give her something ordinary. It had to be special. Unique.
What other tamable animals existed in the world? Spiders were right out. Bunnies might be okay, except that they had a tendency to become lunch. It needed to be tough enough to survive, and also preferably fireproof. And there was one creature that fit those criteria: the Dragonfly. Or more precisely, one of its larva.
Well, that settled it. Wilson would go hunt the Dragonfly, take one of its eggs, and present it to Willow, just in time for her birthday. What could possibly go wrong?
***
Wilson started preparing for the battle as soon as day started. The first time he’d been near the dragonfly’s lair, he’d nearly keeled over from the heat. So, into his pack went the materials for an exothermic firepit. He’d also need a weapon and armor. He opened the fridge door and made a big show of shoving some meatballs into his mouth, while also slipping some monster meat into his pack.
“Willow, I’m going to the pig village,” said Wilson, hefting his backpack.
“Oh, you need help?” she replied.
“No, I’m fine, you should, uhh, get some more manure for the farm. Yes, we have to properly fertilize the farms so the plant babies can grow big and strong!”
“But I don’t wanna scoop poop from a Beefalo butt! Can’t you make Maxwell do it?” Maxwell, who had been loafing around camp, sprung to his feet and grabbed an ax.
“I just remembered I have an appointment to help Woodie chop wood. It’s very important, I can’t be late,” said Maxwell, skedaddling out of camp.
“C’mon Willow, we need to stockpile watermelons for the summer,” begged Wilson. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “Say hi to Augustus for me.”
Wilson walked to the pig village, his walking cane tapping on the cobblestones. The rain had stopped, but he didn’t have time to play in the remaining puddles. He had work to do!
In the village, several pig men were milling about aimlessly. At the sight of Wilson’s meat, they all ran to him with their mouths open and drooling. Wilson parceled out a piece of monster meat to each, then selected his victim: Lucius, who had once eaten all the spoils of a battle with a frog. He did feel a little bit bad about betraying his trust like this, but not bad enough to stop.
“Hey, Lucius, you look like you’re still hungry.” The greedy pig squealed in delight as Wilson presented him with three more pieces of monster meat, stuffing them into his jaw. As soon as he swallowed, tufts of hair sprouted from his body. The pig dropped to all fours and howled, then turned towards Wilson with a vicious lunge.
“Get him!” shouted Wilson, pointing an ax towards the werepig. The rest of the pigs attacked their former friend, punching and dodging its enraged blows. While the melee sorted itself out, Wilson picked some berries from a nearby bush to distract himself from the pained squeals.
“HA HA HA,” said a robotic voice, startling Wilson. “THIS IS MY FAVORITE SHOW.”
“What are you doing here, WX-78?” said Wilson. The robot would have no compunctions about shouting Wilson’s secret plan all throughout camp.
“I CAME TO MURDER THESE BEASTS MYSELF, BUT YOU BEAT ME TO IT. THESE PIG MEN ARE ONLY SLIGHTLY MORE STUPID THAN THE REST OF YOU FLESHLINGS.”
“Well, it’s not like I want to kill them,” said Wilson, wincing at how the werepig tore an entire arm off another pig. “They just have a lot of meat on them.”
“YOU ARE A MAN OF SCIENCE. DO YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW MANY LIMBS A HUMAN CAN LOSE BEFORE EXPIRING?”
“Ha ha, nope, I’m good,” Wilson laughed nervously, and bent down to skin the corpses of the dead pigs. Jovian, the lone survivor, limped up to him with an ear entirely ripped off. Wilson fed him a piece of Augustus as recompense.
***
Bandages? Check. Helmet? Check. Ham bat? Check. Thermal stone, exothermic fire, meatballs, taffy? Check. At dusk, Wilson rifled through his backpack one last time, steeling his nerves for the battle ahead.
“Hey Wilson, are you coming in or not?” asked Willow from inside their tent.
“I’m not tired.”
“You sure about that?” Willow raised an eyebrow. “You look a little squirrely.”
“What? No, I’m behaving perfectly normally, not suspicious at all. I just want to get a head start on breakfast. I know you like your eggs well-cooked.” Willow yawned.
“Suit yourself. I’m stealing your blanket.” The tent flap closed. Wilson dumped some eggs and meat into the crockpot, then grabbed a torch and headed towards the Dragonfly’s den.
***
The first sign of the Dragonfly’s presence was a wave of dry heat, burning off the residual moisture from the spring rains. When he saw the hovering hellbeast in the distance, Wilson built an endothermic fire and banked it high. He pretended that his chattering teeth were merely the result of chilling himself as cold as he could stand. When his thermal stone was coated in a layer of frost, he exchanged his backpack for a log suit and put on a helmet. Then he swung his ham bat to his shoulder and charged the Dragonfly with a battle cry.
All of Wilson’s preparation, physical and mental, went out the window when he was hit by a blow from the Dragonfly’s armored claws. The Dragonfly grunted in rage, and stomped on the ground like a giant toddler. Wilson’s highly flammable wood armor burst into flame, and he screamed and ran away. Each pace he took whipped the flames higher, but it was that or be smashed to pieces.
“You’d better cool your jets, hot mama!” It was Willow, clutching an armful of jiggling water balloons. She tossed one at the Dragonfly, which broke on its face with a hiss of steam.
“Willow, what are you doing here?” She broke another water balloon on Wilson’s body, putting out the fire.
“Rescuing you, apparently. What made you think it was a good idea to fight the Dragonfly all by yourself?”
“Now that I think about it, the chain of reasoning was rather weak,” admitted Wilson. “But I just wanted to get you a nice present for your birthday.”
“You sillyhead, just being dry would be enough for me.” Willow smeared healing salve over Wilson’s burns, which stung in the best way. “Besides, if you really wanted to fight the Dragonfly, you should have taken me along. I’m fireproof, remember?”
“But I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt either! You don’t have to do everything alone, you know. You’ve got friends now. And me.” She grabbed Wilson’s hand. Wilson gazed at Willow’s face, her eyes shining in determination. He felt as if he could take on the world.
“Let's do it together, then!”
“Yeah! Dragonfly, prepare to get squished!”
***
“OoooOOohh?”
Wickerbottom looked up from her reading to see two ghosts, one with a ludicrously spiky haircut, one with pigtails.
“Oh dear. What have you two gotten yourself into this time?”