#dotter....

The coming of spring had Wes in quite the chipper mood, and of course that meant he had to visit Wendy – who was his contrast in just about every way, with her dour countenance, and who probably was slightly less enthusiastic about the concept of new life, and who Wes was excited to see all the same. Moving between survivor encampments was more a laborious task when done in the harsher seasons, but this was the tail-end of winter, and there’s something about the mime’s excitement that suggests that the dead of winter wouldn’t have stopped him, either.

In typical fashion, he arrived to her campsite bearing gifts, with the assurance that surely he would be here and surprise visits were much better and more practical than anything arranged (which maybe rung true, at least a little, in the wilderness). His messy hair was barely concealed by a fluffy hat intended to keep out the cold, and his breath left him in rapid puffs of frost on the air not unlike the anxious respiration of a rabbit. For the most part, he brought her food, which he piled precariously in his arms, and to some extent had to peek over on his tip toes.