Fact and Fantasy (Wilson x Reader)

Why are you here?

You step into camp and find Wilson in the exact spot and position from your dream. He's still sleeping... Under normal circumstances he would look peaceful. But no, his brow is tightly knit and face pulled into a strained grimace. He cradles his poorly bandaged arm to his chest.
You rub his shoulder, trying to offer some kind of sleepy comfort, before picking up the plant debris and string.
"Oh...where do you keep the fire wood...." You look around trying to remember. You think it's in one of two chests, you go with the one closest to the fire. You open it up and grab the nearest wood feeling thing while looking over your shoulder to make sure Wilson was still okay.
You toss what ever you grabbed into the fire to coax it back to life.
Big mistake, huge mistake, GRANDE MISTAKE. The fire lets of a black floom of smoke leaving you coughing and sputtering. The hell did you put in there?

He smells something burning before he starts choking, he jolts up 'What's on fire?!?' He looks around making sure his camp was still in tact before finally looking to the pit. 'Did I leave something too close last night?' Something waves away some of the smoke, eventually clearing it. "Miss? What are you doing here?"
"You said you'd be okay." She states bluntly.
"Yeah, I am."
"No you're not." She almost sounds insulted as she gestures to him. He clutches lightly at his arm, she lets out a sigh at the sight.
"Of course They hurt you..."
"They?"
"The strangers.."
"What? No. It was a hou- hey!" She grabs his arm and unwraps the cloth.
"It's not a hound.." she mumbles "mouth is too small and there's too many teeth." She examines the deep bite mark before wrapping it again. "Stop lieing, what is it really."
"I don't know, okay?" He concedes. "Frankly, I don't like not knowing." He winces as the bandage pulls tighter around the wound.
She ties it off and sets to work around the fire. "Sorry, you're probably still a bit shaken by it..." You think?! "Can you at least tell me what it looked like? I might know what it was."
"And how the devil would you know?"
"I've read a lot of books in my time, Wilson."
"Well so have I and I have no idea-"
"Different books."
She can't be serious, how would some fairy tale know what to do? "Fine...." he shifts around, seeming to ground himself. "it was like a worm, a big one at that. It seemed to crawl or slither after me, I couldn't tell which."
"A wyvern maybe?" She suggests, putting something in a bowl.
"Wyverns aren't real."

You stop your ingredient mashing to look at him "well, maybe they weren't in our world, but they could be here."
"No, they can't. Just because things are weird here doesn't mean it's like some fable"
"But they're not from fables, and there's at least some truth to them. If not a wyvern, something wyvern-esc or-"
"Please, just stop.."
You almost argue the point more, but nows not the time. It probably won't help keep those...Things away. You huff and go back to mashing your concoction. Some berries, a bit of mandrake, and some carrot. If you can get this into an easy to eat soup form, that'd be great. Maybe then you can use the remaining mandrake to help heal the wyvern bite? They've grown more notorious for venom in the modern day... You pour a little water in the bowl and set it by the fire.
Your attention turns to the other half of your task, that mandrake paste. You break it up and begin grinding it with a make shift mortar and pestle. It's nice really, a soothing rhythmic motion of circles.
"Miss!" You feel something Pat your arm.
You jump "What?!" Your head snaps to attention, startled.
"I've been trying to ask, why are you here?"
"To make sure you get better."
"My friend, I'm fine, really-"
"No. I mean, to make sure that you get well enough that the Strangers won't come back."
He seems to think before a look of frustration and disappointment etch his face "Oh, so you think I'm crazy do you? Some loony moron who's just waiting to-"
"Of course not! You've been here alone so long. I know you're still seeing things and-"
"How do you know that."
"What?"
"I never brought up seeing things anymore. So I repeat. How. Do. You. Know?" He articulates every word in his question.
You think long and hard. What are you supposed to say? That an old goddess showed up in a dream you had and told you the most cryptic and confusing crap ever? That she showed you these shadow creatures and the fact that they're after Wilson? That you watched something feeding off his nightmare and sadness and fear before you woke up and came here? No. He'd never believe you.
"I just do."
"Oh come off it, if I'm to be honest with you, you must be honest with me." He crosses his arms
"Fine, fine. The best I can tell you is I had a feeling. A uh... a hunch really." You lie, grabbing the bowl from the fire with your shirt being a boundary between you and the hot soup.
"A feeling? Heh....fine be like that."
"I will. Now, this should help while I look at your arm." You place the slightly cooled bowl in his lap "may I see it again?"
"Sure..." he grumbles, holding his arm out for you to examine. Instead of the usual pinks and bloody reds in a bite, it's all black. The puncture wounds leave little fine lines that spread all throughout.
"Woah..."
"That bad?" He takes a bite of his soup
"Yeah, I have an idea though." You lightly take his arm and pull it closer, holding it over your bowl of paste "did you wash it yet?"
"Didn't get the chance to,"
"Shoot! I'll be right back then." You grab a pot like thing you saw when digging for bowls and run to the stream. You scoop up the nearest clean water and dash back to camp, sloshing a little as you go. You set it on the fire to boil and get clean.

"So what else did your hunch say?" His mouth quirks and he almost seems to be joking.
"That you're sad," she tells him, almost immediately.
"Oh..." his expression instantly flicks back to its neutral look.
"And that you're a nerd." She pokes him with the handle of a spoon.
"Hey!" He pushes it away grinning. "So....what's a nerd?"