Just a temporary break from CotF. This just happened to me in Minecraft, and it was quite sad. I was far too attached to this dog…
It hadn't been long since she'd gotten her new best friend – after all, the dog had been trapped in a cave, hurt and alone. Had she not been on an adventure for a Chicken, the pup probably would have starved to death. It had been terrified of her at first. She couldn't blame him, exactly. She'd had an iron sword at her hip and in her hands, her face caked in mud from days of walking. Her bag had become heavy by now, weighing her down with excess water from her last swim. Thankfully her materials were safe – her food, especially.
It had taken a few hours for her to get the dog willing to move, and even longer to get him out of the cave itself. They'd wandered in darkness for what seemed like days, though when they emerged the sun was only just rising over the trees. She stayed with the injured animal for several days, building a fire and sleeping in a pile of grass and leaves. She was cold, she was tired, and she was cranky – but it was worth it to see the animal walking well.
When she'd gone to leave him, the dog had followed. She offered it a bone as he followed the girl's lead. She'd named him 'Perro' – he picked up on his name after only a few times of being called, and responded according to her tone of voice. If she sounded scared, he bounded closer in curiosity and if she was being cornered he would growl and leap forward, annihilating the threat. If she sounded happy or excited he would bark as well, his tail wagging furiously as he trotted closer. They were two best friends in a lonely world of only herself, animals, and the scarce villagers scattered about the world in which she lived, all of which either hostile or unaware of her presence.
She hadn't been struggling in life. She lived in the center of the surface world, with a forest nearby, a desert somewhere in front of her and the arctic behind, her home being in the plains. She'd yet to find a jungle – she was sure she would eventually. Even so the trees provided the wood she needed and wildlife was never scarce; as a result she neither had a silent day nor a night without food. She had a small wheat farm, the perfect size for only one person, as well as a sugar cane farm. They were attached to one another and beside them were watermelons and pumpkins, growing in pairs. She had built pens for all of her animals, including sheep, cows, chickens and pigs. She lived next to several ponds and a long river. She had built a small wooden dock to fish off of, sitting on the edge as she held the pole in delicate but capable hands. She ate well and had a place to keep all of her food and she did not suffer by sharing said food with the friend she'd now acquired. Two large caves were nearby, both of which had provided her with more than enough iron and coal to get her going, and most of the passages still unexplored.
Yes, life was quite simple, but it was dangerous. Creatures roamed the night, and she feared for her life with every moment that passed. Storms regularly wreaked havoc on her home and her surroundings, often terrifying her into silence and a night of no rest.
However, she was running out of arrows. As of late there had been a shortage of feathers due to her last chicken somehow disappearing in the night, and she had sighed and gone out with Perro toward the desert, sword in hand and food in her bag. They'd run silently through the grass and sand, taking down skeletons and zombies and spiders and, yes, even a few creepers. Nothing seemed to be a challenge, any longer.
Of course, anything has the possibility of change. Everything can go wrong or nothing at all; it all depended on how Lady Luck saw you, and how She felt you would deal with a situation.
And clearly She'd been having an awful day.
They'd picked off plenty of creatures, that night – She'd managed to obtain a total of sixteen arrows, and that was just fine with her. She was exhausted and thirsty, and above all there was sand in her shoes. Perro, too, seemed hot and tired, and so she'd sheathed her sword and begun to jog toward home, hand near the hilt in preparation for an attack.
She hadn't heard the hiss. She should have – after all it wasn't as if it was a particularly noisy night. The only sound in the desert was the stray echo of a moan, hers and Perro's feet kicking sand, and their heavy panting.
No – she hadn't heard the hiss. She heard the explosion, however, and it was enough force to knock her off of her feet. She hit the ground as the yelp sounded through the silent desert; a few moments of confusion (and several more of cold realization) had been all the hesitation she took before rushing to the hole in the ground, bits of sand settling in the wind. The fur was bloody now, eyes darkened by both the crimson liquid and Death itself. The sound had attracted more enemies and she was forced to abandon the scene, rushing home with tears in her eyes.
She slammed the door closed behind her and held her hand over her eyes, sobbing quietly as she hit the ground.
It hadn't been long since she'd gotten her new best friend – and in those few weeks she'd not been lonely in the least, finding comfort in another living creature for the first time since she'd awoken in this dark place.
And now, after that short period, she found herself alone once more, forgotten by any and all.