Chapter three . . .
Herobrine walked down a dark, narrow hallway which seemed endless. As he came to a window on his left, he looked down into the Molten world below him, which seemed to have a brightness, but that brightness casts a dark mood over this realm.
He was in the The Great Nether Bridge, in which leads to countless villages and fortresses. There was a slightly different air, Herobrine noticed. He could feel someone's presence.
Herobrine turned around, cautiously. A pig, whose skin was falling off by the pounds, was standing on its hind legs before Herobrine. "What do you want?" Herobrine asked.
"It's Steve," Squeaked the pig, "He fell for your unintelligent copy of your self at the battle, but he ran off!"
Herobrine swore under his breath. He kept walking the way he was befor and turned down another hallway. He saw three tall, dark skeletons. Beside them was another undead pig, his golden sword tight in his fist, ready for action.
"Gentlemen, you are going to do something for me." Herobrine said with a business like voice.
"What is it sir?" Asked the pig.
Herobrine tossed the four of the key. One of the skeletons got it. He looked up at Herobrine with horror. "But, Herobrine," He whimpered. "This is the key to the Ender Portal blocks!"
"Exactly." Herobrine responded smoothly.
The second skeleton stepped forward. "If your gonna make us do something like that, your gonna have to pay us something."
Herobrine held out his hand, and the skeleton stopped suddenly. Now Herobrine clenched his held out hand into a fist, literally freezing the skeleton, ice hanging from his boney fingers. He then jumped into the air, floating for a moment. He stuck his foot out in front of him, did a back flip in mid-air, kicking the skeletons head clean off. "Anyone else want to reject my request?"
The creatures stood there, unmoving. Herobrine tossed a bag full of Ender Eyes. "Hurry up." Herobrine said, walking away. "I want him now. My brother has always been scared of Enderman."
Steves chest hurt. He had been running for a while now. He looked over his shoulder for the tenth time, anxious of his undead bother following him. But all he saw was his foot prints in the snow.
Steve stopped running, bent over and put his hands on his legs, gasping for air. It was really cold. He sat down in the snow, grabbed some stones and some sticks from his back pack and set them up, ready for a fire. He rubbed a chunk of flint against a steel buckle on his pack. A spark jumped from the friction into the air, and landed on one of the sticks Steve had placed out.
The spark seemed incredibly bright, but the burst of flames resulting from the spark was blinding compared to the darkness of tonight. Steve put up a tent and laid down under a blanket inside the green shelter.
Steve squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the horrible creatures of the night wouldn't find him.