That's where all the trouble started; a ticklish cough that interfered with Wilson P. Higgsbury's fishing trip in the swamp.
The gentleman scientist was sitting by a pond, hoping to get himself and Chester good bite after being so short on food lately. Unfortunately, his persistent hacking made the hunt more tiring than it should have, even with Chester holding his belongings alongside him.
Finally, that minute, Wilson yanked up a fish onto the ground with his rod, but as he did so, he held his head up with one hand, and grabbed a nearby pine with the other, as if trying not to fall over. Chester whimpered and gently nudged his master's leg in comfort. Wilson returned it with a weak smile, gently mussing his orange fur before trudging back to their base camp in the flower field.
As the evening turned to night, sleeping became a challenge, too. Whenever Wilson got in his straw roll, his body would get damp with sweat, but every time he got out, he felt a chill running thr
The evening quickly waned on into night, a half moon rising over the exhausted scientist. He was cooking a couple of carrots over his campfire, and had wrapped his wounds with a poultice