Fact and Fantasy (Wilson x Reader)

Wake up

You stir where you lay, slowly sitting up feeling stiff, back and neck aching. How long had you been out? You rub your eyes confused before opening them to a blinding bright world. You were...back at camp? How on earth did you get here?
You force yourself up, slow at first of course, then wobble to your feet. You feel your stomach gnaw against your ribs. Gosh, you're starving! One hand clutching your stomach, the other keeping you balanced, You inch your way to a chest and push it open. The lid feels heavier than normal. Or maybe you just have weak baby arms...
Inside is your average stuff. Some berries, a few morsels, seeds... you grab a hand full of this, and a bit of that, before you close the lid you take your book out for good measure.
The weight of the lid slams itself shut. 'Someone found me, they had to have' You sit in front of the fire pit and get a small flame going 'how else would I still be alive?' You can't just wrap yourself in bandages you don't have... You tuck the seeds and berries into the meat before tossing it into a make shift stone bowl toward the middle of the fire.
While your small meal cooks you put your book in your lap, flipping to the front pages. There, black rows of tally marks tick to show the days you've been here. You count the clusters of black scratches until you stop, reaching what should have been the end.
But no, someone's kept your tally, this time with green, slightly fuzzy lines, thin little streaks of grass rubbings picking up where you left off. Who ever found you had also written in your book... you count,
"One, two...." You trail off "eight, nine....eleven...twelve...Twelve?!" You start "I've been out for twelve days?!" How frightening, to have such a large portion of your memory wiped from existence. What happened?
You remember running, always running, the familiar thump in your chest, the pulse, and blood, and teeth- yeah you remember...
You shudder to think what happened. To get your mind off the events of... two weeks ago you keep flipping through your book. Inside are your pages, yes, but it seems your rescuer left you a note...
Madam,
I've left this note for you should you wake while I'm gone. You have a nasty gash along your back and I hope you'll forgive me but I had to remove your shirt and, er, under garment to treat it. As a gentleman I mean no harm or ill intent, and am informing you that I've only gone to get more supplies. What I had certainly worked in a pinch, but there are still a few things I need to address.
Sincerely yours
Wilson P. Higsbury

You turn the page. This note seems to have been a few days later

Miss,
I assume you're a miss as you don't have a band, but I digress. I'm again informing you that I need to leave again. You've been sleeping for almost a week and while that's good for your recovery it's also not so good for your stomach. You're bound to be starving when you wake up. Don't fret, I've got a majority of things taken care of. Try not to strain your stitches again.
Sincerely yours
Wilson P Higsbury

Again? What does he mean 'again'? You flip through the pages, a few sentence long notes litter the way. 'Miss, it's Wilson, everything is fine' 'Miss, the hounds almost came again. You may want to build walls.' All that sort. Each one is signed the same name, in almost consistent scritchy loops. Finally you find the last one.

Miss,
You seem to be recovering well and quickly I'm excited to say that-

"Hey!" You hear someone shout "Hey, you're awake!"
You look around confused before seeing him near the horizon, he trots down with a backpack and book of his own. You close yours, almost self conscious.
"I take it you're..Wilson?" You ask, stopping him a few feet away.
"Me? How did you know?"
"The note-"
"Ah the notes, yes." He talks over you. You both stare at each other for many uncomfortable seconds. After all too long Wilson starts "I think introductions are still appropriate" he sticks his arm out, a little stiffly, to you "Wilson Higsbury, at your service miss..."
'I can't give him my name, those have power. What if he's like the fae?'
You notice Wilson slowly start pulling his hand back uncomfortably "Wren," you take his hand, shaking it once "My name is Wren,"