"Come this way, Finn," My father instructed me as he led me down a hallway. "Finn. I have to go away for a while. It will be just you for a while," He said when we stopped at a door.
"Where's mommy?" I asked as I clutched my blue blanket tightly.
"She's...away," Was all he said. "That's not important. What is important is that you're safe. You need to do exactly as I say," I nodded, ready to help my father. "In this room, you'll see a pod. I need you to get inside, and whatever you hear on the outside, do not, I repeat, do not, open the door,"
"Okay. When will I see you again, daddy?"
"I don't know, my son. We will meet again, when you're older," I heard an explosion, and feet running down our creaky basement stairs.
"What was that?" I asked.
"Nothing. Now hurry, get in the pod. I'll keep you safe," He said, kissing my forehead.
I opened the door. Inside was a singular gray pod, the top half open. I climbed in, and just before the doors closed, I saw my father open the door, and whisper: "I love you, son,"
All I could see was darkness. I didn't know if my eyes were open or closed. I heard, muffled:
"Come on, you sons of bitches, bring it to me!" Then, the unmistakable sound of him drawing his enormous, two-handed sword. Clangs and thuds rang on for hours and hours. I sat there in the dark, holding my blanked, crying as my father defended me.
"Hello again, John. Long time, no see," I heard a voice like a knife on ice whisper after the sounds of battle had faded. "Please, step out of the way. I don't wish to hurt you,"
"That's a lie, and you know it," My father huffed, winded.
"Okay, guilty. Now, are you going to go peacefully, or are we going to do this the old fashioned way?" The voice questioned.
"You can have me son when you pry him from my cold, dead fingers," I could hear the rage in my father's voice.
"That's no way to talk to an old friend. After all, you invited me here in the first place," The voice cackled.
"I'll never let you get him. Never," My father replied, voice shaking. He drew his sword out again, and with a cry, charged the…thing.
"Please, John. You were never a challenge the first time, and I highly doubt that you will be this time," I heard a sound like a blade slicing flesh, my father grunt, and then all was still. "Truly a disappointment. I wish you would have put up more of a fight. Now, is your son in this room?" I heard the door creak open. "A protection pod? Trivial, compared to my powers," He murmured something, and I heard the door hiss open. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the monster that murdered my father. "Come here, little one," It whispered.
Suddenly, a humongous crash sounded throughout the room. It sounded like the wall had been knocked down.
"Get your dirty hands off him!" I heard a man's voice yell. I opened my eyes to see a giant orange fist grabbing whatever had been about to grab me, flinging it against a wall. I heard an almighty crunch, and I smiled, knowing it wouldn't be getting up for a long time. It turned out the wall had been knocked down. A man dressed entirely in orange grabbed me, holding me in his arms, and booked out of the ruined house.
"What's your name, kid?" The man asked me. I blinked up at him. I realized, with a start, that he wasn't a man after all. He was a talking dog. "Yeah, I'm a dog. I know," He said. "Seriously, what's your name?"
"Finn," I replied.
"Finn. I like that. Good solid name," I soon fell asleep to the rocking of his arms.
"Hey, wake up, little bro. We're here," He had stopped in front of an enormous tree. He walked up to a door in the front, walked past piles of gold coins, and up a ladder. He quickly took me up to a bedroom. "Here, you can have my bed. Best spot in the house,"
"What about you? I asked.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be keeping watch over you,"
I sighed, and turned over in my bed, exhausted. Sleep overtook me once again.