Disclaimer: I don't own Puella Magi Madoka Magica or Minecraft.

Author's Note: A simple story based around an on-going RP Singleplayer Campaign I've got going. If you're wondering, yes. My skin is Mami.

The Long And Lonesome Road

Prologue

Day 01:

My head hurt. My legs hurt... my whole being hurt. I can hear grass in one ear and the crashing of the ocean in the other. I'm not wet, so I didn't wash up anywhere... by the stars, if I could only move. With no small amount of force, I manage to pushing myself onto my hands and knees, looking at the flattened grass where my body once laid. How long was I out? Okay... okay, let's start with basics...

My name... my name is... my name is...

Mami. My name is Mami Tomoe, I remember now. Fighting against the urge to vomit, I slowly, uneasily get to my feet. As I find my whole weight on the heavy stumps I call legs, I stumble about like a woman loaded with drink, eventually falling forward, my arms reach out instinctively forward, hoping to catch myself on something. My hands fall up to my wrists in sand and I stop my descent to the ground. Shaking the fatigue out of my head, I pull my hands from the sandbar and look around.

I'm standing on a beach, a beautiful beach with clear, blue water as far as I can see. It's surreal, really, the clarity of the ocean as the waves roll over the sand. I don't ever remember seeing water this clear in person before, only ever in movies and books. The waters in and around Mitakihara were blue, sure, but they were never-

Mitakihara!

Spinning about frantically, I try to find the towering glistening skyscrapers and beautiful steel architecture of the city I loved and called home. I stand there, on the beach like an idiot, spinning about looking for a city that was, clearly, not there. So soon after remembering the answer to the question of my name, another question comes to my mind, one I am forced to speak aloud, if for no other reason then to hear my own voice once more.

"Where... am I?" I muse, my throat dry from dehydration. Swallowing painfully, I put a hand to my throat, hoping to ease the pain caused by my lack of water. So thirsty... why am I so thirsty? I stumble my way down to the beach, collapsing to my knees by the water. I know this was stupid... I know I shouldn't be drinking salt water, but just a little... just enough to hopefully wet my throat...

Cupping my hands into a crude cup, I submerge them in the crystal clear water and bring them up to my lips, taking a stilted drink. Upon swallowing the water, I give a little smile at the discovery. "It's... fresh water?" I speak more of a question then an actual statement. It wasn't right, I knew that much already. This watery expanse before me was clearly too large to be a lake or a lagoon. There was no way on earth this water could be fresh, it's the sea. I didn't care, however. All I cared for was that I was deathly thirsty, and this water was fresh.

It was all I could do to prevent myself from submerging my entire head under water and slurping down the clear nectar unrestrained. Handful after handful of shimmering water slid down my throat, bringing life to the barren wasteland within. Finally sated, I leaned onto my knees and gave a moan. It felt so good to drink... it made little sense, I've had plenty of water in the past, but something about this water was just so good.

Now that my throat no longer burned with dehydration, I could survey my surroundings without distraction. I looked up, the sun beaming down upon me from high above... I was no master of navigation, but judging by the sun's position, it was probably around ten or eleven in the morning, nearing noon but not quite there yet. My eyes fell down across myself. Thank the stars I wasn't naked. Somehow, I had retained my elegant (if not a bit extravagant) combat uniform, the pleated skirt a bit wrinkled from my bout playing the part of blanket to the sand. I tried to straighten my clothes out with my hands, I couldn't very well be seen like this! I'd look like such a putz.

Across from the ocean, further inland, there was a forest before me. Tree after resplendent tree stretched unyielding towards the heavens, as if the plights of mere mortals on earth didn't concern it. I took a few uneasy steps towards the forest, becoming more and more sure of my footing with each pregnant step. A few feet into the forest, I had come across the queerest of sights. There, buried far into one tree, was a gorgeous steel axe, it's long wooden handle looking out of place amongst the grass. I blinked twice at this sight. How strange for an axe to be lodged in a tree, with no man to wield it, nor any explanation to it's reason for existence.

I cared little for details at the moment, however. I would need to build myself some kind of shelter if I was unable to find the city in time, and I would be very hard pressed to do so with no tools. Taking the long thin axe handle in both of my hands, I gave it a tug. As I imagined, it was firmly wedged into the gorgeous tree's trunk, barely able to wiggle, let alone pry itself free. I gave another tug on the handle, much to the same effect as the first, not even an inch did the tree give way. Exhaling sharply upon releasing the handle, I scowled intently at the tree, as if the plant was some animal intentionally giving me problems. Moving my grip farther up the axe's handle, I grabbed closer to the head, right below the blade, and pulled once more. It slipped. I let loose a little smile at this quick feeling of release. It was starting to come out. Pulling once more with all of my might, I gave a great groan as the axe slipped more and more, farther and farther until...

Shank. The steel head popped out of the tree with a grinding sound, the force of the motion sending me to my rear, axe in hand. Holding my prize in one hand, my smiled widened as I looked at it. It had little sign of wear, nearly pristine if not for the small wood shavings that coated the blade from it's detainment in the tree. As I was reveling in my victory, the tree it was wedged in began to splinter and crack, teetering on it's stem uneasily. It would appear as if my dislodgment of the axe from the tree had disrupted some delicate balance previously obtained... the tree was about to fall. On top of me.

Scrambling quickly to my feet, I hobbled out of the way about the same time the timber gave a deafening crash, slamming into the ground with a great force. I shook the image of what could have happened had I been slower from my mind and went to the great oak. As it lay there, silently, I looked to the axe in my hand. I was filled with a flood of different images, different objects that I could, with time, build from this tree. Why was Mitakihara so close in my mind, but so far away at the same time? I so desperately wanted to see those shining streets once more... but something in my mind, the deepest, darkest recesses of Mami Tomoe, told me that I never would see that city, that this place, wherever or whatever it was, was my home now. Raising the axe over my head, I brought the head down atop the tree once more, slicing the log near the canopy.

Night 01:

By the stars... I had never worked that hard in my entire life... as I sit here, amongst the half-constructed shelter I had constructed from the logs I collected after felling many trees (I had lost track after twenty), I smiled to myself. I had made the long logs into life-size, giant Lincoln Logs. Thought lifting them into place was a pain, especially the higher my structure rose, I found that with patience and practice, I could be done in time. I had cleared a small area, enough for a one-room house with four walls and a flat roof (which I made my making small squares out of large steak-like cut outs of logs). It was poor, in both construction and comfort, but it would at least keep the critters away from me. Leaning the axe against the wall nearest the door (I use the term 'door' loosely, as all I had done was construct a flat panel that could connect to the wall with two dowls and used it to block the entrance). I had no bed, no table, no nothing. I suppose I should do as Miki-san suggested and learn to 'rough it'.

Sayaka. Stars, I had forgotten about here. And Kyouko... Madoka... Homura... all of my friends... Why... why does thinking about Madoka hurt? Why do I feel like... I should know why it hurts? As I lay down on the dirt, images of the pink-haired girl come flooding back, and all I could stand to do is cry myself to sleep.