Life as a rogue was harsh. No one would feed you when you grew too old to hunt. Or when you where you were sick. So when someone were to offer you the bones of a Skeleton, you would be grateful. It didn't matter if they were a player or a wolf. They had saved me. I would be forever loyal to them.
The player fed me raw beef. I helped him hunt the cows. He fed me when I got sick. He showed me how to fight mobs, how zombies are slower and how Enderman are too tall to fit many places. Then came preparation.
We went mining. I smelled out the diamonds and iron, and nosed him in the right direction. Eventually we found enough diamonds that he made full diamond armor, a diamond sword, a diamond pickaxe, and he made me a diamond helmet. He went to the Nether.
I noticed he began to leave me behind. He would never take me to the Nether, and he stopped hunting and mining with me. Then one day he came home with Eye of Ender. He told me he had enough and was going to the End. He planned to defeat the Enderdragon.
Of course, he left me behind. He told me to sit and wait for his return. So I sit here, waiting for him, or some word of his return. I sit, and sit, and sit.
Hey guys! Sorry about how short this was, but when I wrote my longer story, no one seemed to read it. I thought I would try something new. Anyway, please comment. Nice comments get a free diamond, and people who write mean comments get suffocated in a piston trap (In Minecraft, of course).