Wilson took a deep breath as he looked out into the forest, feeling content with his life. He was about to head out and chop down a tree or two when he heard a very distinct giggling.
"Papa!" exclaimed the young Whitney, her mother Willow following suit.
"Well if it isn't my little fire cracker!" Wilson replied to his five year old daughter.
Whitney was a sweet little girl. She had the same black hair shared by her parents, pigtails like her mother though they ended in a curve that mimicked her father, she wore a small pink blouse with a vest that was in essence a smaller version of her fathers, a black skirt, and black ballet shoes used as normal shoes.
"Mama said she'd show me how to start a fire!" Whitney exclaimed as her father picked her up.
"Well if there's anyone you should learn from it's her." Wilson said sarcastically, to which Willow stuck out a tongue.
"Maybe if you're well behaved I'll convince your father to show you how to make tools." Willow said as she walked up and basically leaned on Wilson.
"Really?" Whitney said, her eyes beaming.
"If you behave." Wilson said handing Whitney to Willow.
"Come on sweetie, your big sisters wanted to spend some time with you." Willow said as she started carrying Whitney back towards camp.
Whitney was waving to her father with a giant smile on her face as she and her mother went back to camp.
Wilson let out a happy sigh. After a little while he finally took out his trusty ax and chopped down a few trees. Then as he was walking back to camp, the sun beginning to set in the distance, he heard something.
"Wilson..." says a voice he thought gone for good.
'Come on Wilson, he's been dead for six years, you're just hearing things.' Wilson thought to himself, ignoring that the wind began picking up.
"Wilson..." the voice said again, this time a few shadows faltering at the edges of the forest.
"I swear if this is another one of your pranks Webber I will feed you to a pigman." Wilson said without stopping.
"WILSON!" Yelled he voice as shadows converged in front of Wilson, who dropped his fire wood, and rapidly they began to fall away to show the long forgotten figure of Maxwell, though his form was misty and his skin a dull gray.
"It's rude to ignore an old pal."