Okay this is my first fan-fiction ever, so please don't piss off if I just wasted a few minutes of your life. Enjoy!
Strangerlands
I turn restlessly in bed as the moon crosses over the sky. Trumm Trumm Trumm, the distant sound of beating hooves keeps me awake. Water spreads across the valleys, and the endless howls of wolves fills the night air. I hold myself close, though there is nothing to hold, from the unforgiving land. A lone birch sways gently, it's bark seems to light up like fire. I shudder as crude memories pass my mind. "Fire," I breathed. "Fire." It all came back to me. Fire upon purple stone, bringing me back to the place they call the Nether, my birthplace. Yes, it is not expected that I would ever be born in such a hell, but it is true. Son of Fire, Nephew of Darkness, I was to be crowned Wither of the Nether, to rule along with the great Herobrine, that is, until I escaped. "Escape," I whispered, "Escape." Before I knew what was going on, I had sank into darkness, and it was not brought by sleep. I fall down into the chilly air, yet I don't fall all the same. A liquid seems to drip down my face, and a coldness sweep down my spine. I suddenly lurch forwards as a pain hits my hits me, like a blast of freezing acid, waking me up but burning me, too. An immense wind blows me away, yet I stay in one place. I know this feeling. I think I know where I'm headed to. I had the feeling they were looking for me...