Short Stories and Drabbles-A Minecraft Collection

by Bi-Ocelot

A little book of Minecraft inspired short stories. Whether it be about Villagers, Mobs, or even the infamous trio of players as they explore their world. Most stories may or may not influence the plot, but most are tied together somehow. I just think that Minecraft lore is neat. In an endless world filled with nothing but the horizon, would you follow its call?

2. Miner's Misfortune

Warning: Light gore, description of blood, hunger, illness, and infected wounds.

…

Miner's Misfortune

…

Alex hummed a simple tune, a working song that followed the rhythm of both her and Steve's pickaxes as they struck through a particular vein of ore. Pieces of iron crumbled to the floor as her song carried through the cave's walls. They were preparing to dive into a new branch they—mainly Steve—had previously blocked off for later exploration. But first, they collected chunks of spare ores that had tucked themselves away from the pair's previous ventures.

The hunter slung her pickaxe back on her belt harness as she skipped forward, letting Steve's inventory be the pack-mule for the moment. They continued down the sloped steps, deeper into the earth.

Alex's tune carried forward as she glanced around. It truly had been a moment since she walked through these caves, preferring her time spent up top roaming the forests. Not everyone could have been descended from mountain goats themselves and kept a steady footing on these damn rocks, like her sibling. Eternally burning lanterns lined the cave's walls. Hardly a distinct shadow appeared as littered voids were across the walls, empty pockets of veins long cleared out. A set of torches placed above an indent acted as a gate to her right, branching from the main tunnel. Past the gate were empty sconces and looming darkness. They both found it exciting.

Steve caught up and matched her stride. Easy since they were nearly the same height, but Alex was just barely an inch taller and liked to gloat at every chance she got. They didn't need to speak to know what was going on. Like sibling telepathy—they knew how to read each other. Fascinating in practice.

The miner guided Alex down a fork in the path and stopped in front of an iron door that he had previously placed. A safety precaution. Not all caves were clear of mobs. Winding tunnels hid pockets of monsters that rose at the worst of times. So, doors. Worked like a charm. Most were too stupid to work a bolt lock and others lacked opposable thumbs.

Steve fussed with the bolt and unlocked the iron door, letting it swing open with a squeal. Alex could see it was much like the rest of the cave system, perhaps a little different. A path that led down and steeply. Only slightly larger than the other branches. Rich in iron, not so much in coal. The steep incline gave Alex a terrible itch, circling back to the notion that not everyone was a damn mountain goat.

Alex unsheathed her sword as Steve took out a stack of those eternally burning torches. Crafted and enchanted personally by the two before each expedition. They split a job Steve would normally do alone between the two of them. Alex would watch Steve's back as he placed a trail of torches, lighting up the cave and warding away mobs from wandering near them; they hated the light. The zombies specifically. Bursting into flames at a single touch of sun can't be pleasant in the slightest.

Steve's mind wandered to previous conversations, as this tedious task had him quickly growing bored. It was a long tunnel, nothing exciting, like an enormous cavern or a ravine, or even an abandoned mineshaft. Now that would be fun to explore! He was thankful to have remembered to bug Alex about grabbing the climbing harnesses. And plenty of rope.

'You good on your own?' Alex had asked him before he left.

'Done this a million times. I know what I'm getting into.' He'd responded. Alex had trusted him; despite the number of times he'd limped back very much, not okay, he'd always survived so what was the harm?

White-eyes had given him a look like 'are you stupid?' the moment he'd mentioned he was diving down alone but had made no other movement than that. They've had the discussion before, and White-eyes had enough of Alex's teasing to have another.

But then Alex had met him at the door, pickaxe in one hand, and a scabbard on her belt.

"Shall we go?" She'd said with a grin.

Steve had opened the door for her. "After you."

Alex had a sudden change of heart. Even in the mines, it was good to have an extra set of hands in case of emergencies. And double the eyes for finding that good stuff. Alex was sharp with her blade, so it was always fun with her around.

Though, the huff White-eyes gave didn't escape him. The demon seemed uninterested, but Steve caught that look of relief for a fraction of a second. He was going with a buddy.

Steve continued down the cave, pausing every so often to collect surface-level ores. The cave was void of mobs, highly unusual considering what he dealt with in all the other branches. Alex voiced the comment aloud as he thought about it, filling the empty cave with the whisper of her voice.

They continued forward.

The silence irked the duo. The absence of any sound was welcome if one of them had scouted earlier, but you never knew what lay in the darkness. But that included the sound of water, bats, and any other things that lay in unexplored caves, and this one was proving to be larger than anticipated, at least to Alex's instincts. Steve seemed to have a notion.

The cave was narrow. They could walk with ease, but the tapering of the cave had their hopes low for anything exciting. It continued to narrow until both of their broad shoulders were grazing the sides of the wall. Then, from the darkness, it widened suddenly, letting them reach their arms out and move.

They came up to a blockade.

Unearthed by the torch in Steve's hand, a gigantic wall of gravel stood there, blocking their path. Well, not that much. It was clear from the long-settled rubble and the large hole in the top that this was a cave-in. Not a problem, it's why they always had a shovel in hand. But it was still a little too quiet. Perhaps the silence had been caused by the cave-in; nothing could get in, nothing could get out.

"Shit, gravel wall?" Alex sauntered to his side, as it had occupied her in collecting ores he'd passed as he scouted ahead.

"Yup, gravel wall," He parroted.

Alex opened her inventory with a wave of her hand and brought out a shovel, tossing another one to Steve. It was clockwork with them, the simplest nuance of a movement or gesture. Every expression told the other everything they needed to know.

Alex shivered as she flung another clump of gravel to the side with her spade. "Bro, you getting any bad vibes from this place too, or…?"

"Nah, I'm feeling them too. The cave keeps going. Look, I think that's a gap up there but there's too much gravel to climb over." Steve stopped for a second, scrutinizing the gravelly landslide for any sense of where this feeling came from. "I would say you're scared of the dark but something feels different about this cave."

"You say that about every other cave you come across."

"But am I ever wrong?"

Alex scoffed. "Sometimes."

"Ha!" Steve went back to shoveling. "You said sometimes, so I'm usually right."

"I didn't say shit." Alex huffed as she flung another heap of gravel aside.

"But you did."

"Shush it or I'll whack you."

"Engarde then." Steve snorted, brushing off the hollow threat. And throwing a small amount of gravel at her in jest.

They pushed the piles of gravel to either side, creating a clear path forward. Rotted beams held up a large slab of wood, which held up the ceiling. This support continued into the darkness, slowly sloping down. Dented pieces of rail piled into a corner as a rusted cart had tipped over on the other side. Heaps of coal had spilled onto the floor.

"Look at that," Steve grinned as he bumped shoulders with Alex, "A mineshaft. With extra goodies."

"Ha, ha, let's keep going." The other grumbled.

Fallen debris covered one part of the rail, most likely a cave-in, while the rest followed the slow slope of the earth. They left the overturned cart of coal for later so they didn't clutter their inventories with stuff. Alex and Steve followed the trail of the tracks and saw a light up ahead.

The tracks kept going, but the walls on either side fell away to show a rather wide opening, with radiant light coming from the bottom. Cautiously, they made their way over to the edge. It was a ravine. A large one with a channel of magma bubbling at the bottom. They couldn't feel it in the cave, but they sure could feel it when they peeked their heads over to look below.

The bridge itself looked dusty and old. And while it looked thick, the railings? Not so much.

Alex grabbed a rope from her bag and secured it to her mining harness. She tossed the long-looped piece to Steve as she tested the waters. Steve stood back, anchoring his feet into the stone. Alex took a tentative step forward, and another, and another. The wood held up, despite the first impression. Steve slowly fed rope as Alex walked across. The wood creaked, but a normal sound. The bridge was secure.

Steve made his way across, and they continued into a junction of sorts. The rail forked in three of the remaining cardinal directions. They left no ore in sight. It would be difficult to find any raw ores in abandoned mines, though the chance of chests full of supplies and goods left behind was always in large supply in these places.

In the three halls they could choose, flickering redstone lamps lit up the way. It powered them for decades. Knowing redstone, they could remain lit for centuries if properly maintained.

Alex wandered to the left path. A stretch of redstone lamps followed the rail as they carved the tunnel out from pickaxes rather than naturally formed. The duo made their way down the stretch. No sounds of mobs were near, long driven away by the light of the lamps.

The rail path was mostly straightforward, bending every so often. Then it took a right turn into a different atrium, where more tunnels fed into this one. A place to load up the carts and return to mining. Strangely, there was a flat wall at the far end of the atrium, about two dozen meters away from the entrance of the railway.

Steve and Alex rooted around in the old junk, finding nothing but worthless scraps too rusted to be recycled. Steve turned his sights to one tunnel, which looked to have an incline.

"Alex." Steve nodded his head to the path as he peered up.

More redstone lamps lit up the way and revealed what looked to be a bend. Alex quickly hopped to his side, and they went up to this one. It was indeed much wider than they expected, but it curved around like a sloped staircase.

Near the bend was a tunnel leading to light and a drop. A path directly to the ravine. Steve and Alex continued up to where they encountered another atrium, possibly above the one they had just gone through. Steve hesitated. The floor looked sandy, but gravel peeked from beneath the fine sand.

Alex made a motion that she was going to scour through one of the darker hallways, where it seemed there had been no redstone lamps placed yet. Steve remained in the atrium to wait for her as he rooted through chests... and jackpot! Well... not that good of a jackpot, but it was better than the scraps they'd been finding. It was a bunch of pickaxes, rusty, but very much salvageable. Not to mention an entire chest filled with coal. Steve shoved all he could into his inventory, seeing as the mine probably had little else.

He sauntered back into the center of the atrium, kicking at the floor. As the sand moved away, his suspicions were correct as this atrium sat entirely on a pocket of gravel, meaning the atrium below had to have been sitting on less than a meter of stone with around three meters of gravel on top. Not very secure. No wonder this place was abandoned. It was a wreck-and-a-half. A casualty waiting to happen.

Maybe he and Alex should beat it. Too much of a risk to scavenge clumps of coal and rusty tools. He looked to the other caves, the unlit ones, and pondered. It was a stretch to believe that there could be any mobs. They had to have been chased out long ago and scared away by the light. Unless any of these dug into a natural cavern.

Equipping his shield and sword, he went down to the one Alex went down to find her.

Steve turned around a moment too late as a hiss brushed against his ear. A single beat of his heart and his shield was up. The next beat, heat flashed across his body.

'B O O M!'

The force of the explosion swept him off his feet as it pushed against his shield. It blasted him back against the wall of the cave, slamming into it. His head clipped against the stone as gravel flung everywhere. Dust flew into his face, choking his nose and drying his throat. Sulfur was in his eyes, and it was all he could taste. It clogged his senses, ears ringing, nose burning.

Pieces of his armor dangled as its straps had singed. His shoulder and arm were exposed, as was one of his legs. The armor was on its last legs, but now was not the time for it to be failing.

He held his shield in front of him, struggling to return to his feet. The ringing refused to let up. The gravel beneath his feet shifted and swayed, like the sand beneath the tide. Sucking him in and shifting in a continuous stream.

Steve scrambled to his feet. The force of the explosion had unsettled the gravel, and his foot was slowly being sucked in. He glanced up. Another green creature hobbled out of the darkness. Steve clawed his way out of the shifting gravel, a vortex in the center.

The second creeper exploded on the far edge. The heat barely grazed him, but the sound shook the cave a second time. The floor beneath him gave out.

"SHIT!"

The entire mass of the gravel pocket came crashing down into the junction below it. A large bellowing thud of loose sediment echoed through the halls. Extra pieces of loose rock pelted his armored back. Cuts stung. Burns smoldered on his exposed skin.

His vision swam, bubbles of greyed dots clouded the center of his eyes. Tunneling. He needed to get up. He wasn't safe. He tried scooting away to get something solid beneath his feet. But his legs were still submerged beneath the rubble, only increasing as it reached up to his body. He writhed and fought. The old redstone lamps were like cloudy stars in the dark hallways of the abandoned mine.

Steve finally could free himself and stumbled onto a flat surface, turning around to see the fallout. Rubble now covered the once empty junction with a single rail in the center leading out. Dust hung heavy in the air.

Behind the sound of his ringing ears was the crumbling of stone. The various noises of mobs were getting closer to the collapsed junction. The gravel was smoothing away as gravity continued its work. Steve, though unsteady on his feet, took out his sword and raised his shield. Good timing too.

A spider jumped from the darkness. Steve swiped it away expertly, slashing its body. The spider regained its footing with angry chittering. It lunged again and Steve just rammed it with his shield, dizzying it and ending it with a stab. Bones clanked, and he raised his shield.

'Thunk.'

A skeleton dropped down from the hole, already notching another arrow. Steve braced for the next projectile. Instead of an arrow, a whole body slammed into his shield, knocking him back a step. The clatter of bones soon followed, right at his feet.

Steve peeked over his shield to see his saving grace standing proudly at the top of the gravel pile, panting as she glared at the hole above. A sword in her primary hand and a dagger in the other. Her green eyes suddenly snapped to his as she grinned.

"Need a hand?"

Before Steve could respond, an arrow flew over Alex's shoulder as more mobs appeared from the darkness, drawn by the sound of fighting. Alex raised her dagger and sword, yelling. The horde of spiders and zombies were drawn to her display. Steve picked at the outliers as she guided them towards her. Then that dreaded creature followed. Its hollow, dark sights set directly on Steve.

Steve raised his shield as the hissing creature drew closer, keen on blowing him to bits. Its throat expanded as it glowed from the inside out. Steve ran up, kicked it at the wall, and darted away, holding up his shield. The creeper hit the wall with an angry wheeze as it flashed white.

'BOOM!'

It exploded, sending more debris flying over the battle area. Luckily again, Steve's shield soaked up most of the blast, leaving him with just a scorched shield and an exhausted arm.

Steve glanced up as he readied his sword. The wall the creeper exploded against had a massive fissure straight down. The spiderweb impact and soot from the blast crumbling away to show a hole behind it. And loose cobblestone. Piece by piece, as Steve kicked away spiders, the wall collapsed. A chorus of curious groans filtered through the space.

Steve slowly drew forward, lowering his shield to strike at the wall to get it to crumble faster, snagging on some of the outstretched, rotted arms. He jumped back as dust fell into his face and a wall of cobble came crashing down, right where he just was. Great, more obstacles on the field.

The miner forced himself to look at the large opening. Luckily it was a pack of zombies on the other side, but the hard-helmets, the spade one of them held, and the strange torn uniforms they were wearing spoke a lot about the story of this place. The glint of a tiny flame, faint as it was, appeared behind the zombies. And an ugly green arm reached out, clawing at the opening, the smell of his blood enticing them.

"Grooooaaauuuugh?"

"SHIT! SPAWNER!" Steve cried as he kicked away another curled-up carcass.

"I'll hold them off, you destroy that thing!" Alex yelled back as she darted over to him, the dissolving bodies of mobs in her wake.

With a nod, Steve switched to his pickaxe and held up his shield. Alex did excellent work on clearing out the other mobs, but the hiss of spiders coming from behind the wall and the green rotted arms clawing through the collapsing rubble only told that the battle was getting harder.

Steve switched back to his sword as he and Alex stood side to side.

Alex started causing a scene, bringing more of the mobs towards her. But Steve saw the cave kept going. And dozens of eyes peered from behind the cobwebs.

"Alex! Cave spiders!"

"Dammit, don't get bit."

"Easier said than done."

The zombies shambled forward. Steve picked off the ones that drew near him. They were clumsy and weak, the infection long settled in their bones, making them brittle. One after the other, they felled the infected men as Steve could get closer to the spawner. He glanced at Alex. She was doing fine, coaxing more mobs away from Steve so he could get to work.

Steve switched to his pickaxe and swung heavily into the lit cage. The bars gave beneath his tool as he swung again and again. The spawner was resisting breaking no matter how much the bars bent. Right as he was about to make the last strike, a weight slammed into him. Multiple writhing bodies clawed at him as teeth grated across his armor.

"Gah! Get off!" Steve thrashed.

He raised the handle of his pick in front of his face as a zombie went for his neck. Its jaws clamped on the handle as Steve thrashed harder. There was one on top of him and another clawing at his leg armor.

"AH, SHIT!" Steve yelled as sharp teeth sank into his calf. He took his other foot and kicked the zombie in the face, but the one on top of him let go and dove for his shoulder, clamping down hard.

Stinging pain flared in his leg and shoulder, like needles puncturing his skin. He felt nauseous as the pressure increased. His armor must have broken in the explosion where the two zombies bit down.

Suddenly the one on his shoulder yanked away, taking pieces of his shirt and skin with it, leaving a set of bloody teeth marks in its wake. Steve yelped in pain as blood gushed from the wound.

Alex stabbed the zombie and helped pry the other one off. Steve held its face away from his leg with his free foot as Alex sunk her blade into it.

Alex helped Steve to his feet. He looked around. There were so many mobs, and he could hear more coming.

"We need to go." Alex panted, "There's too many."

Alex hissed in pain as she walked forward, near falling. Her leg was bad. Where her pants had torn were two bloody holes—a spider bite. It was already swelling and growing discolored. They would not survive this.

Steve grabbed Alex's hand and made a break for the rail path. The mobs hated the light, so they could find solace in the redstone lamps.

The dash to safety felt like hours of strenuous running. Made worse by the gaping wounds in their legs. They barely made it to the bridge and hurried across, the wood creaking beneath their heavy footsteps. They didn't stop till they made it to the iron door. Alex collapsed as Steve slammed the door shut behind them. Alex was sweating up a storm, panting and on the verge of consciousness. Steve's mind was distant and airy. The throbbing of his entire body didn't help.

But they were safe now. Their camp was up ahead.

...

The ride home took a full day. They made very few stops, if any. Alex succumbed to the symptoms of the spider bite during the night. Fever, chills, cramps across her entire body, her leg swelled, and an ugly rash spread over her entire leg, originating at the two scabbed over puncture wounds. She was weak. There was no argument about that. They needed to get home fast.

Steve gingerly put antiseptic on both the bites on his shoulder and calf, really rubbing it in and applying ointment before re-wrapping the gauze. It stung like hell, but at least one of them needed to be in working order to get the other home. He couldn't walk so much as hobble, but he did what he could to get the horses in order and they made it home, relatively okay.

The sight of their homestead was a cry of relief. Alex was near ready to topple over on her horse, barely able to keep her eyes open. As they drew near, Steve started making preparations.

He helped Alex get down and piggy-backed her to the couch in the living room. A wet towel over her forehead and antivenom cream slapped heavily onto and massaged into the reopened scabs. A dose from a needle syringe would have worked like a charm, but they could not afford such luxuries this far out. Imagine trying to keep something like that sterile in the middle of nowhere.

With all her wounds taken care of, it was now a waiting game.

Steve put away the horses, cleaned them up, and had them settled within the next two hours. He started doing more chores while ignoring his own problems. He could deal with them after he showered. They fed the chickens; the dog tended to, little chores around the homestead were finally picked at right as the sun went down.

Alex had gotten up and bathed, ridding herself of all debris from the mines. She'd even redressed her leg wound herself and returned to her station at the couch by the time Steve returned from chores.

Just as he said he would, Steve took his shower, redressed his wounds, and applied another wad of ointment, really getting it in there. It burned like hell, but any chance of one particle of that infection still squirming around could grow into a massive problem in hours. He was fighting it fine for now. It hardly ached after the shower.

He hobbled back downstairs and prepared some leftovers. That was it for the night, and the weeks ahead would not be ideal, but they'd survive it, as they always had.

The next morning, Steve awoke to a soreness in both his calf and shoulder. The damn things ached as if a dog had gnawed them on all night with no teeth. Steve heaved himself up to a sitting position and rolled his shoulders, wincing immediately.

The miner glanced around his room, the familiarity of it easing his mind.

He lived in a modest little bedroom, just enough for him. Cozy and perfect. Little knick-knacks on the windowsill and on shelves with books and other things. His favorite gray boots sat next to the door, ready for any outside work.

The little bits of light streaming in let blue tints of white light fade into the room. The faint hints of yellow meant it was well after sunrise. The room remained a dark coolness, shadows in the corners threatening to lull him back to sleep, to nap away the pain. But no... he had chores to attend to.

His bed comprised a red wool blanket atop thin white sheets. Beneath that was an oak frame. Simple and comfortable as can be. Alex insisted on getting both of them full-size beds, a step-up from a twin. He resisted, but when the dog came and snuggled, he greatly appreciated the extra room.

Across from his bed was his closet, and overlooking his bed was a large window. The curtains were partially closed to let only a sliver of light stream into the small room. Not much filled his room other than a chest, a weapon rack, and shelves for other things. And a painting of a mountain hung above his bed. A gift from a trade.

Hues of red and orange made up the sun that bled away to pinks and purples of the sky, and eventually purple to blue in the silhouettes of the mountains. The fainted brushstrokes of clouds and stars in the sky.

Steve took a deep breath and prepared himself to start the day. He tried to stretch, and his tender muscles disobeyed. The teeth marks on both his shoulder and calf stretched painfully. He would need to head to the village to purchase some more first-aid supplies. They were on their last ounces and had gone through a lot more than they usually would. Mob bites were no laughing matter.

He got ready, applied more ointment, changed bandages, and hobbled outside his bedroom. Loose-fitting blue jeans and a normal cyan shirt; his typical ensemble. He limped over to Alex's bedroom and knocked. No answer, so he knocked and opened the door.

The moment he laid eyes on her, she groaned in annoyance. She kicked the covers of her bed off in favor of the thin linen beneath the top blanket. Sweat covered her forehead as her hair splayed across her pillow. With bags under her eyes, she looked paler than usual.

Steve drew close and put a hand on her forehead. Burning. Steve rushed out as fast as he could, wet another towel, grabbed a pail, and returned. He laid the towel over her forehead as he had done the night previously and set the pail next to her bed.

"Alex, how are you feeling?" He whispered.

She groaned in response, voice hoarse, "... L-Like shit."

Steve laughed softly at that, "I can imagine. Let me make some food."

"Don't... even bother, my head is... ugh..." There was no energy, no spunk, in her voice. A softness only coming from pain and sickness. It made Steve's heart ache seeing her like that.

"Nausea?" Steve gently grabbed her hand and squeezed. She had little strength to return the sentiment.

"Fucking... hell... The fucker really p-pumped as much poison as... ngh... as it could." Alex struggled to make her mouth work. The words slurred through fumbling lips, hardly above a whisper.

After that, Alex went silent again, in favor of falling back asleep. Steve took this as his queue to leave and get her something. Anything really. Dinner last night was light, and she needed something to get her strength back up. He knew how much she hated depending on people, as he felt the same. The faster she recovered, the better.

The kitchen was as clean as they had left it. Steve went outside and looked for eggs. The hens were usually slow to make eggs, but to his luck, he found two sitting nestled in the coop, the only ones there.

He returned inside and began prepping. A hot frying pan over the fire, a bit of oil to swish and coat the pan. He brought out a potato, skinned it, and started dicing it into small chunks. He then cracked the eggs and dropped them into the pan, taking a spatula and scrambling both eggs around, then adding the diced potatoes with another drop of oil. He threw in some pepper and a tinge of salt. He grabbed old cut parsley from the fridge, minced it while the eggs and potatoes were on simmer, and added it.

It wasn't the most glamourous meal, but it would satisfy the two of them for the time being. In the leftover grease, Steve toasted two pieces of bread and put them on two plates. He split the scrambled eggs into two servings and slid them onto each plate. He got a cup and filled it with orange juice, a blessing since they were in season.

It was a slow ascent upstairs, but he got to Alex's door to deliver her breakfast.

Alex's room was a decent size. She insisted on a larger bed, a full size with green sheets, that rested on the left wall to the door. There was enough space for a nightstand on either side with extra buffer space. The window on the wall directly across from the door overlooked her room. The drawn curtains let barely a ray shine through.

She had a small closet on the right wall with a desk covered in her things. A jar full of feather pens and bottles of ink with a neat stack of empty papers and drawers filled with stuff. It was neat and chaotic at the same time. She spent a lot of time at that desk writing to acquaintances and friends.

Steve set the food on the nightstand closest to her and prodded her to sit up. He opened her window a small bit to let a little light in, but not so much it gave her a headache. They spoke not a word between them, but Steve went right to her side when she tried lifting one piece of egg with her fork.

He had to help hold her arm so none of the eggs would slop onto her bed from her shaking hand. The spider bite was in her leg, but even her arms were looking inflamed. A fever was in her brow. But the more she ate, the stronger she got. If Alex didn't fight his help, she was feeling like shit more than she let on.

Her copper hair, usually frizzy and wild, was dull and slick with sweat. Her skin was paler, eyes gaunt. Her emerald green eyes spoke a thousand words. Of a night of restless sleep, of her aching body, of her desire for rest. And scorn for that damn spider and its damn poison.

Once she finished, Steve set the plate back on the nightstand and peeled away the blanket, exposing her painfully swollen leg. Red and angry. He took the last bits of salve from their cabinet he stored in his inventory and went to work, unwrapping the bandages. It had stopped bleeding during their ride, but the poison refused to let the wound close properly.

He applied more salve, cleaned the wound, then re-wrapped it, making it tight. He took an ice pack from his inventory he'd also grabbed and rested it on her leg. He would need to go into town to get anti-inflammatories once the ones they already had ran out. But she was re-bandaged in clean new stuff.

Alex got out a small, 'Thank you,' when Steve stood up. He helped her to return, lying on her back to rest. Her body relaxed as her eyes fluttered closed. She'd be out of it for the next few days.

The miner relented to his voice and left her alone. She looked like she needed it.

Steve took her empty plate and returned downstairs. The thought of traveling into the village left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, but it needed to be done. He needed a moment to mentally prepare for the endeavor.

And mentally preparing started with breakfast. Steve ate quickly, knowing that if he wanted to get there with enough time, he would need to go soon. But even after nearly licking his plate clean, he wasn't satisfied. Though it was only a serving of one egg and bread. He scrounged around the fridge for any extra leftovers and found cuts of old chicken he could heat up.

It sated him nicely, and he felt ready to take on the daunting task of the village. And at the perfect moment too. The demon himself appeared from the shadows, checking in on the two humans.

Herobrine towered over both him and Alex in height, his head almost scraping the ceiling. Steve and Alex both only reached up to his shoulders in comparison.

Steve glanced up. "Morning."

"Good morning."

There was a strange passiveness about him, something Steve rarely found in the demon. He stood in the corners of the room, watching with interest as Steve collected his things and suited up to head to the village. Then the idea came to mind.

"Hey Brine?" Steve slung his bag over his shoulder and counted his emeralds. He should have enough.

"Hm?" Herobrine tilted his head, showing he was listening.

Steve cleared his throat. "I need to head to the village. Do you mind teleporting me over there?"

Herobrine didn't move. "Why can't Alex go in your stead?"

"Cave spider. I'll tell you later once she isn't moaning in pain every other minute." Steve waved him off, already opening the door and stepping outside. He turned to the demon. "So are you going to take me or not?"

Herobrine took a deep breath, "Of course," and he followed Steve outside, "How long will you be there? You know it is becoming midday. They cannot see me."

"It'll only be a little bit, I just need some medicine." Steve closed the door behind them and locked it. Then they walked out into the meadow in front of the house.

"Will you be getting any for yourself?" Herobrine put a hand on Steve's shoulder, anchoring him. "You aren't hiding that limp very well."

"Zombies bit my leg, but I have plenty of stuff to deal with it, so don't worry. I've cleaned it about a dozen times since we got home last night... and I'm ready whenever you are, by the way."

Herobrine took a moment to glance him over, "Right... right..."

And off they went. Teleporting through the forest was taxing. He could feel his wounds stretch and his breath punched from his gut. Then, just like that, it was over. Only a few blips to get near the forest's edge.

It was a stretch of open land before they got to the village walls. As Herobrine was worried about, travelers filled the roads. Luckily, nobody took the trail that ran near the path to his house. They were as close as they could get with no one seeing them.

Herobrine handed him a walking stick and looked up into the tree's foliage to teleport onto a sturdy bough and settle there, already dozing to wait for Steve to be done. The thick foliage easily camouflaged him.

A long, straight dirt road led to the town. A cobble wall circled the village while homes and estates, a few dotted around the surrounding flatland of farms. From the forest's edge to the gate of the town was about a hundred meters. The rich shades of greenery were cut off starkly by the gold and brown fields of the farmer's work. The yellow straw hats of the farmers bobbed in the distance as they worked their earth.

Houses and buildings peeked over the cobble wall. Cream plaster walls and red bricks with glossy windows peering into the forest. Muted red tiles of clay and dark wood shingles layered as scaled on the pointed roofs. Brick chimneys spotted between the triangle roofs. This summer day, only a few were breathing out smoke from a fire.

After ten minutes of limping to the gate, the road changed from dirt to cobble. Steve passed beneath the arch where the iron gate tucked away up above, ready to come crashing down in the event of a raid.

Steve hobbled into town. It sure was a busy day as people ran back and forth in the street. Vendors declared their wares. Chatter filled his ears, the market bustling with so much noise. Steve kept his head bowed as he cut through the crowd, occasionally bumping into people as he looked for the apothecary.

The buildings that lined each of the streets did little to make shadows during midday. The bottom floor, made of gray stone, was where most people had their shops and livelihoods, and the second floor was where they lived. Some inns and taverns on the bottom floor with the rest being rentable rooms. The apothecary, one of the smaller houses in the town, was a couple of streets away.

Doctors were in short supply out here in the wilds, so their time was very well managed. The apothecary, generic things like common colds or sore muscles, saw most ailments. Even the occasional potion procured by the local brewer who was next door was available. Mostly weak health and regeneration potions for simple cuts and scrapes.

The bell rang above him as he entered the building. The scent of different chemicals beneath a piercing aroma of cleaning alcohol assaulted him. It was where the antiseptic and other sterilizing agents had been distilled.

"Ah, welcome. How may I help you today?" An older woman stood at the counter of the apothecary.

The storefront was narrow, being a few display tables with bottles stacked for easy perusing and a floor-to-ceiling shelf unit packed with ingredients and other bottles, with thick rows of shelves at the bottom. He could imagine beneath the counter filled to the brim with more remedies.

"Uh, hello... I need something for a cave spider bite..."

The woman's lips curled into a grin, "Not for you, I presume? Most people afflicted with cave spider poison aren't very keen on walking around. If they could stand that is."

"It's for my sister, Alex, she comes here more often than me." Steve swallowed. He wasn't ready for a conversation today. He just wanted the stuff so he could get back home.

"Oh, Alex? Then you must be Steve, the one with purple eyes. She talks about you when she comes in sometimes. Here, I have just the thing."

The woman began bustling around the narrow counter space. She searched through drawers and combed the shelves. She collected small bottles and pastes and set them on the counter. It was a small collection of things, probably a compound made to combat a single symptom at a time.

"This works nearly every time for cave spiders I've seen. Tell Alex to take the pain and anti-venom first, and after a few hours to take the anti-inflammatory. If she feels off or not holding any food, take the nausea with a little something to eat. Some days of this and she'll be up and about in no time." The pharmacist detailed each one, and Steve nodded along.

"Is that all she'll need?"

The apothecary raised her hand and dove the other one beneath the counter, "Wait, one more thing, some freshly distilled rubbing alcohol, free of charge."

"Ah, thank you, we were running out."

"Of course, of course, it's my job to look after my clients." The woman said with a smile.

She rang Steve up and he put the emeralds on the counter. A quick exchange. Steve gathered the bottles and bid farewell. While he was here, he could nab a few groceries while he was at it.

He weaved through the crowd after visiting the apothecary, bumping into people and dancing around children and cattle being moved through the streets. It was market day, and there were plenty of stalls and stands filled with produce and vegetables. But he made his way to the butcher to buy dried meats, something that needed little to preserve nicely. They already had plenty of meat in the freezer at home to use, but some extra wouldn't hurt.

Steve went and bought other groceries for later. The ruckus of the market and the light of the sun was irritating him. It was becoming too much. He wanted to sleep. He needed to get out of there.

The miner quickly rushed out of the market, keeping his head down as he put one foot in front of the other. The gate was up ahead, and then he'd be free to return home. He could just about hear his bed calling to him.

In a blink, he was under the tree the demon was lounging in. He leaned against the bark, winded. He felt too hot. His wounded leg was killing him, not to mention he was starving.

Herobrine appeared next to him with a hand on his shoulder. Steve jolted. He sighed as he rubbed his eyes. Damn, he needed to get some sleep, just anything. The demon gave him a look, but Steve waved him off, letting him know he was ready for the teleport. Herobrine looked around and then faced forward.

The jumps weren't as bad as Steve expected. Still, he was ready to collapse the moment they stopped. Blame it on the encounter in the mines, soreness, achiness. All because of that fight. Herobrine helped him inside and took the groceries to the kitchen.

The moment the roof was over his head, Steve felt most of his ailments wash away. Of course, his leg ached like all hell and so did his shoulder, but that exhaustion and dizziness from the teleports just... didn't happen. But he was still starving.

The dog was lounging on the couch. Huffing as he snored away. Steve clicked his tongue and the dog's ears perked up. The canine hopped off the couch with a yawn and followed the miner into the kitchen. Steve took a bag of kibble and poured it into his bowl.

Damn. He was so hungry that even the dog's kibble was looking and smell appealing. He motioned for the dog to eat while he cooked. Yet, the dog did not enter the kitchen. The canine looked at him strangely, slowly entering the kitchen, head lowered and hackles raised. The dog refused to eat. Must've not had the same feeling as Steve on its appealing nature.

"I'm not playing this game with you. Eat. I'll give you scraps later." Steve huffed as he leaned on the counter.

The dog did not respond, refusing to get near him and even sniffing at him for double measure. It was obvious the dog was trying to stifle a growl at his human. Steve rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, deciding to take a small nap before he started cooking. Herobrine was close to putting away all the groceries, anyway.

Steve grabbed some jerky from the pantry, fruit, and a slice of bread on his way out.

But once the miner was up the stairs, the dog finally got near the food bowl and chowed down happily.

Herobrine sighed. Even the dog could sense it. The dog had a stronger sense of smell than him, but he could pick up on feelings, vibrations in the air, auras. It was like a strange taste in the back of your throat, blurriness in the corner of your eye, a film of dirt on your hands. It wasn't just a zombie bite.

White-eyes looked to the kitchen entrance, glancing to where he could vaguely see the stairs. He shouldn't bother either of them. They knew what they were getting into and could deal with the repercussions themselves.

Herobrine finished putting away the groceries, rubbed the top of the dog's head, and disappeared. There was nothing for him to do there. Yet.

...

It had been days since Steve last went to the village to get that medicine. Alex was bedridden for most of the time, her leg swollen so badly she couldn't walk. She groaned in pain every waking moment. Getting her to drink or eat was a challenge, as she could barely sit up from how sick the spider venom made her.

The medicine helped a lot, thankfully. Without it, her fever wouldn't have lessened and allowed her to finally eat. The problem with cave spiders was that their venom was meant to paralyze. Humans were thankfully immune to that, but they paid the price in other ways.

Steve watched, agonized himself, as Alex slowly got out of bed. Her leg was red and puffy, green visible in the surface veins if a little faint. She was trembling as she slid her legs over the edge of the bed. Steve watched from the other side of the room. Her face set in concentration, though she winced in pain at every little movement.

But her vibrant green eyes, a color so pure they almost deemed them unnatural, still held that fire. Her curly coppery-red hair was dull and slick to her head from sweat. Her features were soft and sharp at the same time. Defined might be a better word. There was a scar that nicked the right of her lip and another straight down her left eye. Surface wounds. But none of that could damper the determination that pushed her to get better vigor in her every movement, even in this weakened state.

After much groaning and pained huffs, Alex got to her feet. She wobbled her arms out as she teetered. Steve was at her side, a pillar she could grasp onto. She clung to his arm and urged him forward.

"Take it easy," Steve mumbled.

"I am taking it easy," Alex jabbed back.

They needed to get out of this house, or better yet, Alex needed to get out of this house. She was already looking like a decrepit hermit from not seeing the sun in days. She was like the opposite of the undead, thriving off the sun like a damn plant. Some time in the garden, even on a sweltering day, would be enough for them. Anything to keep them from stewing about the mining incident.

Steve sighed as he got Alex down the stairs and through the side door into their garden. The sun was scorching, but the shade of their tree let him lean comfortably against it as Alex knelt by a box in the sun and started weeding.

Steve disappeared back inside and returned with a glass of water for her to sip at while she worked. She needed the sun. He could go inside whenever he wanted. Though the freshness of the garden soothed the stuffiness that lingered in his lungs. Might as well stay out a little longer, it'll do him some good.

The little tree gave plenty of shade, and Steve needed to monitor Alex. But her eyes fell on him the moment his calf gave out. Steve gasped as he crashed to his knees. One moment it was fine, next his knees buckled from beneath him.

"Steven!" Alex gasped as she tried standing, only to yelp herself and fall back.

She tried rising to her feet to go to him again, but her legs did not cooperate. She tried scooting closer, but Steve held up a hand, waving her off. She coughed and slump against the box of the garden. The sudden jolt of adrenaline had frazzled her system.

Steve doubled back to get her to calm down. He knelt next to her, hoping the sun didn't revive her fever. But all that progress, only for a single scare from him to cause this... shit. Her worry would hinder her recovery. The poison lasted a long time, and any second not battling it was three steps backward from a step forward.

"I'm fine, Alex. I tripped."

The spider bite. His own wounds. All a reminder about just how dangerous their profession was. And why White-eyes was always so wary about Steve venturing down below, even more so alone. If he hadn't had Alex by his side, he might have not made it out of there with his life. It was always a gamble. Veteran miners instill the golden rule of mining into the inexperienced: Your life is always worth more than an extra ore.

Steve had seen miners who had turned into zombies roam the lonesome caverns alone. Lost without purpose. Until falling to the sword of a brave adventurer, rotting away to nothing to return to the earth, or having flesh stripped away to become a bow-wielding skeleton.

Alex finally could take control of her body and slowly reached for the garden spade. Her movements were jerky, and she was visibly weaker. Dammit. He would have to take caution not to spook her like that again till she was better.

The shade of the tree was looking much more like a haven the longer he remained in the sun. He limped back, avoiding falling, and slumped against its bark and slid down. The cool grass and flat garden stones at the tree's roots were refreshing to his skin.

Steve's leg throbbed. And the movement traveled up his spine with a shudder. He hoped that the zombies that bit him were just natural spawns of this unforgiving land and not an unfortunate soul whose luck had run out. But deep down he knew they were the very miners that fell to such a horrid fate, locked away by their comrades before the infection could spread through their ranks.

Subconsciously, he scratched at his shoulder.

He didn't like to meditate about the souls that fell victim to the disease. Thankfully, Steve seemed to be rather immune to the disease. Every time he had been bit, he had taken the same precautions. Clean the wound out. Slap some antiseptic on it. And wrap it tightly. If it got worse, a simple antibacterial would do the trick. No issues. This time would be no different. Of that, he was certain. He'd survived much worse, and he meant much, much worse.

Steve's eyes grew heavy under the shade. The warmth of the summer, yet the coolness of the grass and earth was a wonderful blanket, letting him be lulled away. He remained like that for a while.

'Vwoop',

Steve jolted at the sound. Glancing up before lowering his eyes. It was the demon, curious as always. Herobrine remained under the shade like Steve, watching Alex soak up some rays as she shifted from plant to plant, inspecting leaves and uprooting undesired weeds.

The demon preferred to rest beneath the tree, leaning on it as he watched Alex work. The demon was bored, and bugging the two humans was his best option.

It was getting to about noon. Steve had dozed off for the few hours they were out here. He felt compelled to nap in the shade. But he was peckish. No doubt Alex was too after soaking up as much sunlight as she did. Steve slowly stretched and stood.

Turning his attention to Alex, it was clear she was being tormented by the demon. Their squabbling was loud and piercing on this quiet summer day. The demon's prodding easily riled Alex. Almost like siblings, but in a constant at each other's throats kind of way.

Steve stepped out from beneath the tree to fetch Alex before any blood could spill. She was already weak. The demon's prodding was probably undoing most of his work on healing her. Riling her up, setting her up for disaster. Steve was trying to avoid having to restrain Alex back to bed rest.

The moment the rays of the sun graced his exposed flesh, heat flashed through Steve's body. Too hot. The feeling of the sun's rays was like fire under his skin. A headache suddenly appeared, throbbing in his head. The sunlight was too bright. He felt sick. His mouth was dry. He needed water. It was so sudden, this flash. The world got blurry for a second. Steve chalked it to not having enough food and water before sitting outside for so long.

Steve cleared his throat, "Hey Alex, let's head inside."

White-eyes and Alex turned to look at him. Alex had a twitch in her eye as Herobrine was having too much fun digging under her skin.

Alex rolled her eyes, "Yes please, and can you lock this one out while you're at it? He reeks of pompous ass and over-inflated ego." She snipped, dusting off the dirt from her gloves.

"Oh, that's a new one for you." Herobrine grinned widely with an evil look in his eyes, "Guess what you lack in a sharp blade you make up with an even duller tongue."

Alex whipped around, "What the hell did you just say?"

The arguing between the other two got louder in his ears. The sunlight in his eyes, the heat burning across his skin, the noise of the arguing. Something bubbled up deep from within him.

The demon continued to prod, not at all satisfied, digging for more and more of a reaction from Alex, and Alex was doing nothing but feeding it. She snapped and quipped, even threw dirt at his polished boots. The demon hissed in disgust as he backed away, biting back with remarks as he shook off the dirt. Their voices got louder and louder. Alex was getting pricklier and Herobrine was getting more eager for each reaction.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. The noise of their arguing had him at a tipping point. It was stupid. Why couldn't they cooperate for once in their damn lives? He had enough. The arguing echoed through his head, making it throb painfully with each piercing snap they made at each other.

"Will you two just shut UP?"

Both Alex and Herobrine froze in place, wide-eyed as they sheepishly turned to the seething miner. Steve glared, eyes flitting between the two of them, sweat across his brow, breaths labored—he didn't look good.

"If you don't need my help, then get up and walk inside yourself. I'm heading to bed."

"But it's-" Alex started but Steve cut her off.

"I don't give a shit if it's midday. I'll… I'll be upstairs."

Steve grabbed the empty water glass next to Alex and immediately turned on his heel to storm off, brushing against Herobrine. He closed the side door a bit more forcefully than usual. The other two remained quiet as they saw his figure walk into the kitchen and then disappear towards the stairs, a fresh glass of water in hand.

Herobrine didn't apologize, neither did Alex, but the garden was silent and still for a good moment. Both of them knew they reached a limit with the man's unending patience.

Herobrine swallowed and muttered, as if not to scare a deer. "He has a fever."

"How do you know?" Alex tilted her head as she glanced up to the window where Steve's room was.

"He was radiating heat, badly, when he passed. Fever I presume."

"..." Alex looked away, "Oh."

The two of them shared nothing more, yet Herobrine reached down to help Alex to her feet and they went inside. It would be a while before Steve would come crawling out of his room, needing time to unwind.

Upstairs, Steve leaned against the wall. He felt bad. He already downed the entire contents of the glass and wanted to get more, but he couldn't summon the will to go back downstairs. At least the bickering from outside had ceased.

Steve stumbled over to his bed. His anger quickly simmered away into passiveness, regret partially. He wasn't tired, but the only remedy to his short temper he could bring himself to do was sleep. Though it wasn't hard to move his feet over to his bed, kick off his shoes, and flop on top of the covers. A small nap would do him good.

He flipped onto his belly and turned his head away from the window. The curtain was loosely closed and letting a small sliver of light in. But not enough to bother him. He wanted to rest. The tenseness in his shoulder relaxed as he sunk into the covers. His eyes closed and his breath evened out.

…

Steve woke up with a jolt.

Sick. He felt sick. Hanging his head over the side of his bed, he endured the feeling until his stomach stopped doing flips. He shouldn't have pushed himself. Now his vision swirled, and shivers wracked his body. Flashes of chills running down his spine. Sweating. Like a fever.

The nightmare rushed through his mind. What even was that? He was chasing something, the taste of blood on his tongue dripping from his mouth. Something collided with his head, a voice had whispered to him. The blood, the gore, the scene, it was blurry and fresh. All he could think of was a butcher's shop after cleaving a fresh carcass. He gagged again.

He looked up through his open window curtains. It looked like it hardly any time had passed from when he'd fallen asleep to now. Maybe he could down something quick and prod the demon into teleporting him to the village for supplies. He needed to pick something up for Alex, as well as get whatever this was out of his head.

He slid out of bed, freshened up in the bathroom, splashed water on his face, massaged the last of the ointment into his scabbed wounds, and started the daunting task of leaving the comfy confines of his abode. Glancing out the window, Alex was still outside, but the other was nowhere to be seen from the window. But the shuffling from downstairs told him enough. He ambled down the stairs to see the demon washing some dishes. Had they had lunch or something?

The demon turned around before Steve could even speak. Steve was afraid of malice or a grudge but found nothing. Just a neutral face.

"Have a nice nap?"

Steve blinked, "Oh, yeah. I did."

The demon hummed a reply as he set the last plate down and exited the kitchen. Steve followed him, the question, or request really, on the tip of his tongue. It felt like lead. What if… no, there was no 'what if'. The demon had already shrugged it off. Not much could get under his skin.

"Do you need something?" Herobrine asked, noticing the other's eyes on his back.

"Can you teleport me to the village? I need to grab more supplies... We... ran out faster than I anticipated."

"Of course. Get your things, I'll be waiting outside." With that, the demon walked to the door and leaned against the wall. Maybe it was a good thing to ask him. He looked bored to all hell.

Steve did just that and grabbed his pack. Some emeralds fastened on some leather armor and shrugged on a cloak. He didn't want to feel exposed, and despite the heat of the summer, the cloak was something to hide in. The demon didn't question him as he followed the miner out into the front yard.

Herobrine took a long breath before turning to Steve, "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Herobrine put a hand on his shoulder and off they went.

The buzz in his head was swirling vertigo. But a painful pulse overcame the disorienting feeling.

The headache after the first lurch made him think this was a terrible idea. But the other was not stopping. The village wasn't far, it would only take a few more. It was jump after jump, and the pounding in his head grew stronger with every pulse. He was choking for breath the moment the walls of the village appeared in his blurred vision. Something was on his tongue.

"Woah, you okay?"

Steve looked up with tired, lidded eyes. He was panting, and the light was piercing his eyes, doing nothing for his headache. Painfully winded, he leaned on the other as he slowly collected himself. His mouth was dry. He needed a moment. Only a moment to continue.

"Yeah… yeah, just… didn't expect it to take that much out of me."

Herobrine's brows creased as he let the miner regain his balance. His expression clearly said he didn't believe Steve one bit.

Something warm was on his lip. Reaching a hand up, he swiped at it, his fingers coming away bloody. A nosebleed. That wasn't a good sign. It wasn't gushing, only a brief bleed, barely more than a drop of blood. He wiped it on his sleeve as he pushed away from Herobrine. The smear of blood was covered by his cloak as he pulled it tighter around his shoulders.

In silence, they trotted towards the village walls. The gray cobble peeked from behind the green foliage. Rooftops peered above the wall's top, brick chimneys reaching to the sky as plumes of smoke puffed from some.

Wordlessly, Herobrine disappeared in a blink. He teleported onto a large branch of a tree and settled there, out of sight, until Steve had completed his tasks and returned from the village. The thick leaves of summer hid his gigantic form, and his talent for blending in with nature helped keep him concealed.

Steve continued on, passing through the gates. He desperately wanted to flip the hood up and be on his way, to avoid the judgemental eyes of some villagers, but a hooded figure only caused more problems. Ugh, he needed to get the medicine and leave. A shiver ran down his back—he felt as if he was being cooked alive in the cloak and frozen to death simultaneously.

The apothecary was easy to find. Right next to the grocer and butcher. Things sure were easier to find when they were grouped up.

A bell rang over his head as he entered the apothecary's shop. The scent of medicine, herbs, and sanitary sterilization filled the room. The pharmacist's apprentice was sorting through bottles of remedies, placing them on their designated shelves.

The apprentice glanced up at his arrival and greeted him with a wave, "Hello, what can I get for you?" The boy set down the bottle he was reading.

Steve swallowed, "Do you have any cave spider antidote?"

"One moment."

The boy spun around and started sorting through the pre-made remedies. Things like a muscle relaxer, wart cream, sunburn cream, and sore throat remedy along with many others maintained the more prominent stock, being the most requested within a village. Things requested by adventures like him were less likely to be pre-made. The boy slowly went through each part of the cabinet and came up empty-handed.

The boy turned around, "Let me ask the pharmacist." he disappeared behind a door tucked into the shelved cabinet.

Steve stood there at the counter, trying to keep himself occupied. Sterilizing alcohol filled the room more than any of the other ingredients. Not only was it sold for first-aid and cleaning supplies, but they also used it in the laboratory and the store itself. Who knew how many sick people, like himself, wandered in looking for anything to ease their ailments. The potent scent of the sterilizing alcohol helped mask the sick scent and taste from earlier now that it filled his lungs.

The door creaked open again, and the pharmacist came out, followed by the apprentice. An older woman with many years of work and knowledge under her belt. She recognized him immediately. Alex usually came to her, but he'd come just a few days ago, and twice before that.

"Steve! Good to see you. Did you run out again?"

Steve blinked and made his tongue work, "Ah... yeah."

"Spider poison, hm? It's always a pain to deal with, especially when it lasts this long. Makes me wonder what you two got into, it's been what? A week now?" The woman laughed as she leaned on the counter. Steve would have loved to stay and chat, but his body desperately wanted to return home to sleep.

"Abandoned mineshaft, had an incident and we got overrun with zombies and spiders. Alex got bit so... here I am... again... asking for more stuff." Steve shrugged as if being attacked by large, deadly, dog-sized spiders was a perfectly normal occurrence.

"Of course, of course. Luckily for you, I have all that you need right here. I was going to send someone out to deliver these for you just in case, but since you're here, all the better."

"Ah." Steve blinked as the apothecary turned around and started rummaging through drawers.

The woman poked through bottles, grabbing small and specific ones. She placed them on the counter one by one as she found them. Whispering notes for her apprentice as she listed off the symptoms and cures. What mixtures helped with what, what shouldn't be blended. All the bottles together included anti-inflammatory, pain relief, anti-nausea, and last, a very basic anti-venom. Probably since the boy was missing during his previous visit.

Steve was ready to take out some emeralds and be set when the pharmacist made an 'a-ha' and continued digging through her stock. From there she set out a bottle of fever-relief to put aside.

"A little collection just for cave-spider incidents like before. As policy: Tell Alex to take the pain and anti-venom first, and after a few hours to take the anti-inflammatory. You know the drill, if she feels sick, take nausea with a little something to eat." The pharmacist detailed each one, and Steve nodded along.

"And for you," The pharmacist smiled as she tapped the fever-relief, "you look like you need it."

Steve swallowed, "Wh... what do you mean?"

The woman shrugged. "Looking a little rough since I last saw you. Probably the bug that got passed around last week, this should help with it." She started adding up the entire remedy, "You pick up on things over the years."

Steve blinked again as he stared down at the collection of bottles.

"Hm."

After that brief exchange, Steve paid for the remedies and the pharmacist gave him the fever-relief free of charge, a little bonus so that he could focus on helping Alex recover from the spider poison.

Now, with that task completed, Steve made his way to the butcher, picking up some raw chicken breasts for dinner. And last, the grocer. He picked up some extra produce and vegetables for tonight. He wanted to make something easy to eat for both him and Alex. Maybe a stew. Couldn't go wrong with that.

He picked out some chicken bone broth, carrots, and potatoes. They had spices and salt at home, so he paid for what he grabbed and eagerly trotted out of the store and back to the gate. But as the sun hit his face and the heat of summer whooshed beneath his cloak, he felt ready to keel over. He kept his eyes down and focused on keeping one foot in front of the other.

His breathing was labored as if he had just sprinted for three miles straight. This wasn't another anxiety thing, it felt different. And familiar, like a looming weakness that he expected. And that blasted headache throbbed at the back of his skull. He couldn't wait to get home.

Steve hobbled through the streets and finally made it through the gate. He kept going, one foot in front of the other, onward. The sun was getting doubly annoying by now, like something crawling beneath his skin as he wanted to snap at the next thing that mildly inconvenienced him.

Brine appeared suddenly by his side. Steve was too out of it to flinch.

"Got what you need?" The demon spoke in a whisper above the sound of the wind. Must have seen the exhaustion. Nothing passed the demon. He was too observant.

Steve nodded as he continued to walk.

"Ready to teleport?"

It was a moment, a deep breath, and Steve nodded again, really leaning on the other as he braced for the sudden lurch. Herobrine put an arm around the other's shoulder, looked forward, and jumped.

It was lurch after lurch. Steve felt himself blackout at least once before the world stopped spinning and vertigo had him nearly about to crash a second time. This time the nosebleed wasn't just a drop of blood, but a trickle that spread down his lips and chin.

He coughed and sputtered, limbs heavy as lead. Herobrine still had an arm around him, but he couldn't feel the tips of his fingers or much of anything for that matter.

The world was disoriented. He could barely make sense of it until it cleared. It threw his sense of balance off as feeling returned to his body. He was lying on the couch in their living room. He was just standing a minute ago with Herobrine. What... Did he pass out?

Brine walked in not a moment later with a weak solution of a regeneration potion and a damp towel. There was an irritated look in his eye.

"How—" Steve coughed again, "—how long w... was I out?"

Brine closed his eyes, sighed, and then glared at him, "Only a minute. If you weren't fit to teleport, I would have walked with you." He set the towel and potion on the coffee table.

"Sorry."

"Drink this, be glad that the nosebleed was light."

Such caring words concerned about his own wellbeing. It was strange to hear it from the demon. But Steve, feeling heat rush to his face, kept his eyes trained down. There was still blood on his lip from his nose.

The demon scoffed and turned around. Steve looked up to see Herobrine holding his bag, the one containing the new remedies and other things he had bought from the village. Herobrine took out each bottle one by one, placing them aside. He took out the carrots, potatoes, and chicken and put them in the fridge. He put two and two together and grabbed the anti-venom and pain relief for Alex and teleported upstairs. Steve wished him good luck getting her to take anything the demon handed her, especially medicine.

Steve sighed. He desperately wanted to shut his eyes again, but he knew he couldn't. He traced his aches and problems back to his shoulder. He unclasped his cloak, draped it over the side of the couch, and prodded the wounded area. It was tender, more than it should be.

It was fine; it was only a wound, he'd cleaned it earlier. Maybe a dozen minutes of shut-eye? All that action had his feet aching with the thought of being on them again. Steve wiped the damp towel across his face and wiped off the smudges of blood from his lip. He downed the entire potion and laid down to rest, covering himself with the cloak and drifting off. Better to escape the problems he faced with a good nap.

Before he could drift away, the demon walked back downstairs and stood right in front of the couch, arms crossed and looking more annoyed than usual.

"Care to explain why you have a fever." He phrased it more like a statement than a question. A strange way of trying to prod for information. He wasn't the most delicate of speakers.

"Anxiety." A straightforward explanation. That had to be it. He always felt terrible when he went to the village. And with the added stress… "Even with the medicine, Alex isn't doing so hot, and I had to go into town alone." Herobrine knew how much he hated doing that.

It didn't seem to sway the demon, who blinked at him unamused.

"That's why you believe you've been off all week? Nothing else?" His sharp tone fell away to something softer.

Steve shuffled closer into the couch pillow. "Yeah."

"And not because of the raging fever?"

Damn this man. Steve huffed, "It'll go away after a good nap. It's hot outside and teleporting to the village took more out of me than I care to admit."

The demon closed his eyes and sighed, letting his arms fall to his side. He would not win this fight, and Steve truly was tired. A rest hurt no one. It was silent in the house, Herobrine staring out of a window and Steve sinking deeper into the couch.

A poof of particles and Steve was finally alone. Herobrine probably went to stalk the woods again.

Suddenly, his desire to sit down and rest was gone. Replaced with the nagging thought of checking on Alex. Alex... he got some stuff for her. But his legs were like lead. He hadn't checked on Alex all day. He felt his heart sink, he'd been napping and doing chores he'd forgotten.

He heaved himself to his feet and shambled up the stairs. He got up to the hallway that led to their shared bathroom, his room, Alex's room, and a spare closet.

Stained oak made up the floors of the entire house, save for the tiled kitchen and bathroom. The walls were a smooth beige plaster, setting a homely neutral tone across the house. The only accents were paintings and the furniture that cluttered the house. Steven stood in front of Alex's door and opened it with a creak.

Alex laid in bed. Her back rested against the backboard and she had a book in hand, but she looked grouchy from being forced to take the medicine the demon had given her. It surprised Steve she'd even taken the treatment, but was relieved to see the bottles on the nightstand.

"How're you feeling?"

Alex rolled her eyes, "Stevie, for the thousandth time, I'm fine."

Steve crossed his arms with a huff, "Then let me change your leg bandage."

Alex flipped the covers off her body and gestured to her still very swollen leg and pristine clean bandages. On the outside, they looked clean, but the inside held much worse. Hopefully, the scabbing stopped. But with spider wounds, there was always a buildup of pus.

Alex groomed back her curly hair into a braid. It was the only option other than letting it get tangled and matted up. Her face was still flushed from fever, and her eyes sunken and tired. She wore a loose, light green tunic and some simple shorts. They helped with venting out the heat from the fever, and she could forgo the hassle of rolling up long pants when they needed to change the bandages.

Steve drained her leg with a tissue, applied some salves, and re-wrapped it with clean bandages. He hadn't heard her hiss in pain once. Obviously, whatever painkiller she took was working wonders.

The two shared a hug, and Steve left Alex alone.

...

The next day, Steve returned from a brief mining trip. Rising before the sun, he'd changed out his bandages, took another dose of the remedy, headed to the mine, and returned in the afternoon with a pack full of goodies.

Steve entered the house with a sigh. The sun was bothering him but finally, he was able to find solace from the rays. With a glance through the living room window, he saw that Alex had walked herself downstairs and was rummaging around the garden. With her nitpicking, the garden was looking incredibly tidy.

Steve let his pack slip off his shoulder with a heavy thump and went upstairs, bathing himself and scrubbing off the accumulated sweat and dust from the mines. Only to come back down and rest on the couch. He flopped face-first onto it with a happy groan. His feet were killing him, and the hike in the sun had him in a foul mood, something a nice nap could fix.

As he shuffled onto his back, the sound of nails clicking on the floor drew from the kitchen. Happy panting came soon after as the dog appeared from the kitchen, his tail wagging.

Steve opened his arms and gestured for the dog to come to cuddle with him on the couch.

The dog trotted up to Steve, ready to jump on the couch, when he suddenly halted, sniffing Steve and then backing away. His tail stopped wagging as his hackles rose. Steven tried petting the dog to get him closer, but the dog avoided his hands with a soft growl.

Steve's brow furrowed as he sat up with a groan, which had the dog immediately back off and scamper away. His throat felt raw, like dryness raw. But he couldn't figure out why the dog had been acting so strangely. He didn't smell that bad, did he? Steve fell back against the sofa.

He didn't feel tired, just achy. Maybe he needed to take another look at his shoulder and calf to make sure he hadn't opened any of the scabs.

Steve left the couch and returned to his bedroom.

Extra rolls of bandages sat on the nightstand, along with ointment and the fever-relief the pharmacist gave him. He sat on his bed, rolled up his pant leg, and unwound the bandage. He poked at the red bite marks. It was scabbed nicely and had stopped swelling long ago. He didn't need the bandages for it anymore. No blood had rubbed off since he last put them on, so he let his calf free.

Steve took his supplies and went to the bathroom to look at his shoulder. Easier to look in the mirror than crane his neck.

His shoulder was tender and ached when he moved to unwrap it. Not a good sign.

The white cotton wrappings fell away, and some stuck. A stain, not red, blotted the bandage as he freed the red swelling from the tight bandaging. The wound was ugly. It must have reopened or somehow became infected despite his daily treatment.

The bite marks were glossy like fresh wounds and swollen with fluid. The scabs had indeed peeled off. It oozed pus as the veins around the bite wounds darkened. Infected. It was infected. Steve ginger pressed a finger to it and winced.

Alex couldn't know, she was already combative against his help.

Steve quickly cleaned as much as he could, pouring rubbing alcohol over it and rewrapping it. It stung so badly that tears pricked in his eyes. He wrapped it with one hand as tightly as he could. He would worry about it later. Fake it until he was alone and take a better look at it later. Herobrine would gloat and be insufferable, he probably didn't even know what an infection in a human looked like and Alex would get sick all over again from worry.

Once the bandages were secured, he tugged his shirt back over his head. The stairs appeared daunting as his calf twitched. He gripped the rail tightly as he went down, able to make it through the living room and into the kitchen with zero incidents.

Before any cooking could begin, Steve opened the window nearby for ventilation, making sure to secure the bug screen, and then rooted around the pantry and fridge for ingredients. He settled for something easy, just a simple soup. He took some pieces of frozen chicken and set it aside to thaw while he gathered other ingredients. Some carrots and potatoes with around a quarter of an ounce of leftover ginger.

A pot filled with chicken broth with a touch of extra water was set on the stove. The vegetables were cut cleanly, and he shredded the ginger into tiny pieces after skinning them. Steve put the vegetables into the boiling broth and got to work on the slightly thawed chicken. He diced them into small pieces and tossed them into a pan coated in oil. Once they were nicely cooked, they were added to the soup and stirred. Finally, the pot was covered and left to sit.

Steve leaned on the counter as he waited, occasionally checking and stirring. It smelled wonderful.

The stairs creaked as Alex slowly came down them. Hunger-induced curiosity had her investigating the delicious smell from upstairs. The window vented the scent of cooking, though some escaped and wafted into the rest of the house.

The dog came trotting after Alex, tail wagging happily. Alex poured some kibble into his bowl and then sat at the table where a bowl of hot stew and a pitcher of lemonade was waiting for her.

It was only a few minutes after Steve had served himself and Alex when white-eyes came snooping around, catching the scent of cooking from whatever far-off place he'd been wandering around. As slow going as it was, it was hard to get the demon to stay nearby or even eat with them. The man refused to do anything of the sort, saying he didn't need to eat like mortals. But Steve had caught the demon sneaking a few fruits from the garden on occasion.

Wordlessly, Herobrine took the remaining empty bowl and served himself before sitting down at the table. Steve passed him the pitcher of fresh lemonade, and all was fine.

The conversation was short and sweet. Steve asked Alex how her day was and vice versa. Herobrine butted in with a small remark every so often. Though the small talk died away as everyone was too invested in their dinner to continue such riveting conversation.

Steve had gotten up and served himself another helping before the other two could finish theirs. He wolfed it down.

The trio finished their dinner and went right to clean up. Alex put the rest of the stew into a container and stuck it in the fridge. Herobrine cleared the table and helped Steve with fixing up the kitchen. Dishes washed, dried, and put away. Counter wiped off and everything neat and tidy.

Once all of that was taken care of, Herobrine immediately disappeared off into the forest as Alex returned to her room to rest. Steve thought to do the same.

As Steve went up the stairs, his legs felt sluggish. Tired. Exhausted? He was at the top of the stairs when he felt...off. Uncomfortable. The pang of hunger, as if he ate too little or nothing at all, twisted his stomach. He shrugged it off and continued sauntering into his bedroom.

His tongue went numb as his throat went strange.

He scrambled to the bathroom, shut the door, and dove for the toilet.

Not even a second warning as everything came up. Acid burned his throat. Tears pricked at his eyes. Shudders ran up and down his spine. Flashes of cold had him trembling as he retched into the bowl. He felt terrible.

He flushed the evidence. Then he hoisted himself up to the sink and splashed water on his face, wiping his mouth and ridding his tongue of the bitter sourness. He had to have eaten too much, too fast. Yet he could feel his body crying for sustenance. Dammit, what the fuck had gotten into him? He refused to believe he was sick. There was no way that was possible.

The cold water dripped from his face as he looked up. That... that wasn't him in the mirror.

Two purple eyes stared back, sunken, teary, and bloodshot. The dripping water resembled sweat, as his hair was a mess. Small curls turned to disheveled locks unkempt as spit remained. He looked at his hands, clenching and relaxing as he turned them over. A struggle, like he had no grip. He couldn't keep them still. His joints protruded a bit too much for his frazzled mind to find okay.

Steve splashed more cold water on his face and wiped it all away with a towel.

The man lightly stepped out of the bathroom and down the stairs, hand gripping the rail tightly. He checked to see if anyone had heard him, but there was nothing. He snuck into the kitchen, procured the stew, heated the leftovers, and served himself.

Just as he sat down, Herobrine appeared at the kitchen door.

"Still hungry?" He jested.

Steve ignored the comment as he silently and slowly ate his stew. The miner prayed the demon wasn't in the house minutes ago. Nothing could escape his hearing, like the ears of an owl that could hear the beating heart of a mouse at a hundred paces.

Herobrine approached, head tilted as his eyes did not leave the miner's face. Steve gave him a look that said, 'leave me alone' but obviously it fell on deaf ears.

A hand pressed against Steve's forehead. A disapproving huff followed. Steve batted away the other's hand and returned to his food. Herobrine was not having it as he set the fever-relief remedy in front of Steve.

"Alex can barely get out of bed and she looks leagues better than you." Herobrine sat right across from Steve, elbows on the table, chin resting upon interlocked fingers. Waiting.

"I'm fine." Steve rolled his eyes, shoving another spoonful of stew into his mouth.

"I beg to differ."

"You? Begging? Is the world ending or something?" Steve snipped back.

Herobrine's brow furrowed, his tone sharp, "Perhaps it is. So beg I shall."

"Then beg."

Steve almost snickered at the curled lip of the other. The demon's eye twitched as he sat up straight and leaned back into the chair, arms crossed. Planted in his seat and unmoving. Stubborn ass.

"..." Steve finally relented, his shoulders slumping "... If I take this, will you leave me alone?"

"Yes." Not even a beat of hesitation as the demon sat there waiting.

Steve's face scrunched as he picked up the bottle. He knew the solution would taste foul on his already sensitive stomach. Yet, there was no doubt White-eyes would keep him there all night until he relented. They were like two rams head-butting, neither willing to submit to the other.

The miner popped the cork and poured the viscous medicine into his spoon. Damn, it was foul. He downed it quickly and shivered as it went down his throat, sticking his tongue out in disgust for good measure. He started shoving more of the stew into his mouth to cover up the unpleasant aftertaste.

The demon stood up, satisfied, and exited the kitchen. They uttered not a single word as he disappeared.

It would be about half an hour until it would calm his fever and hopefully break it. But he was showing too many weaknesses. Many of them he could hide easily from Alex, but he couldn't hide shit from that damn demon.

The rest of the night ended up a blur until he succumbed to sleep, feeling as if it wasn't his own will or feet that marched him to his door and into his bed.

...

Steve awoke with a groan, an irritated huff as the rays of the sun pierced his closed eyelids. Too damn bright. White sheets and the red blanket were strewn across the bed as if he was thrashing to get them off during the night. The sensation of a residue remained on his skin like a film. Like evaporated sweat.

He sat up, and his eyes went fuzzy. The sunlight shined onto his nightstand, where a gleam reflected into his eyes. A small vial of regeneration and the rest of his fever relief sat there, waiting. The demon had put them there during the night. Damn.

Steve cringed as he swung his leg over the edge of the bed. It ached and his shoulder throbbed. His belly rolled as hunger shot through him. He could feel burning rays on his skin, even through his shirt. The sensation of heat, the headache it gave him so early in the morning, it frustrated him.

Pushing himself to his feet roughly he stumbled to the door. The sun had barely risen so Alex was still sleeping, and the house was dead quiet save for his huffing. Something was burrowing into his head, it felt like. He forced himself forward, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Too much light. But his need for breakfast overrode all other thoughts.

Needing something filling and quick, he rummaged through the pantry and pulled out a sack of oats. A thought came to mind. The chickens weren't about to lay eggs for a while, and he had plenty of other ingredients, not to mention it would be easy for him and Alex to eat since his shoulder was acting up.

The oatmeal cooked fast. Just water, milk, sugar, and oats in a pot. A good few dollops of brown sugar and cinnamon into the bowl mixed with the oatmeal had an excellent breakfast ready within minutes. With a glass of juice in hand, hot bowl in the other, Steve delivered it to Alex and returned downstairs... where the demon and the two bottles that were on his nightstand were waiting for him.

Steve ignored the demon as he served himself his breakfast and sat down, not even once glancing at the other. He ate quickly to get on with the day and start chores. Herobrine leaned back into his chair, arms crossed and the slightest hint of a smirk on his face as Steve finished his breakfast.

Steve finally groaned as he massaged the inner corners of his eyes, "What do you want, Brine."

The demon's grin widened. "Glad you asked, you forgot these," He said, nudging the two bottles close to Steve.

The bottles clinked together, the glittering pink liquid in the clear vial sloshing around. It wasn't a full potion, more of a booster. The demon had a strange way of saying 'I know you're hiding something' and 'You can't hide anything from me'. At least, that's what Steve interpreted it as.

The vial was cool and warm in his hand as he picked it up. He popped the cork and downed it like one would do a shot. The strange salty-sweet taste of the mixture remained on his tongue, soon showing the typical fungal aftertaste. The ache in his shoulder lessened immediately, leaving the remaining dose of the liquid fever relief. He only took a small bit of it, knowing the regeneration would take care of the rest. He'd drink the remainder in the afternoon. Of course, Herobrine was not too happy about that.

Steve took the bottle and downed the rest of it like he had done the vial and slammed it down for good measure, glaring daggers at the now neutral demon. But he felt better, and from the other's point of view, the effects were instantaneous, as color, as faint as it was, flushed back into his face.

But to Steve, the single moment of relief became short-lived as his stomach turned. That same feeling came back despite eating a warm meal and the effects of the regeneration potion working through his system. He closed his eyes and resisted. The feeling died after a few moments, then a sudden flash of nausea... and he felt as if he hadn't had a bite to eat in days.

When Steve opened his eyes, the demon was nowhere to be found; the bottles were gone from the table... and another full serving of oatmeal in his bowl. He picked at the sweet sludgy breakfast before digging in, finishing it easily.

Morning had properly come, Alex stirred, and chores were to be had. For once this entire week, he felt refreshed and ready to work. Though an innate dislike of the sun bubbled up the moment he thought of setting foot outside.

Steve helped Alex down the stairs and relented to let her help.

The house was swept and mopped, shelves dusted, laundry collected, tools sorted, items put back into their places. By the time Steve finished cleaning, the house had but a speck of dust in the air. The scent of lemon permeated the house as it lined the windows and doors to deter spiders and mosquitoes, also freshening the air inside from the wonderful aroma of wet dog. The little troublemaker had found a puddle and decided he wanted to slop it all over the inside.

No light came from any fixture, only natural sunlight lit up the house. A pale yellow filter set over the entire house. No need to waste the durability of the redstone when there was perfectly good sunlight. Though any light that directly shined onto Steve had him hissing in pain as a throbbing headache would arise and only lessen the moment he found shelter in the darkness, away from the windows. It was a strange migraine if this even was one.

Steve shrugged it off and went back to cleaning.

Hours later, around four in the afternoon, Herobrine arrived to check on the two humans.

Alex was set for full-speed recovery. Color returned to her face, her body stopped swelling, and her joints grew fluid. Behind the veil of spunk, the stiffness of the venom lingered in her body. Yet by sheer will, Alex did more than she should be able to, even getting up and walking around on her own without her companion coddling her every move.

Speaking of which, the purple-eyed man was nowhere to be found.

Herobrine entered the single living room of the house. Behind him was the front door, and to his left was the archway into the kitchen. A sofa and a chair sat in front of a fireplace parallel to the kitchen and a soft wool carpet beneath the sitting area. On either side of the brick fireplace sat floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled with books and other items from their adventures. A wither skeleton skull, a heart of the sea, a nautilus shell, carved antlers, along with many other relics scavenged from ruins and decorations gifted by other mortals. They lived an interesting life.

Past the seating area was a narrow hallway and the stairs. The hallway led to the enchanting, potion, and storage room. But upstairs lay a small storage closet, a bathroom, and the two adventurer's bedrooms. An inkling had the demon investigating the upstairs.

He barely got up the stairs when the door to the bathroom flung open. The man himself stumbled out with an irritated groan. Shivers ran down his spine as his hair stuck to his head. His eyes were gaunt as he looked... thin. Herobrine could see it immediately. His fever had returned and he looked horrendous.

"Steve, are you alright?" The demon spoke, his concern genuine.

The miner sucked in a deep breath as he passed the demon, "I'm fine. Just... need to eat something. I haven't had lunch."

Herobrine knew that was a lie. The man was radiating heat as he passed, and the skin-crawling scent of illness passed with him. It was strong against his sensitive senses, racking across them like nails on a chalkboard.

"Alex said you had lunch an hour ago."

"Wait, what? Shit. Must have lost track of time."

Neither of them moved.

Steve straightened his back and turned to face the other, "I said I'm fine, you don't have to hound me for every little thing."

Herobrine did not heed the other's statement, staring him down equally, making himself taller, easier since the demon was a full head above him. Herobrine stepped to the side of Steve and teleported away. Purple particles of the teleport flowing with his movement. He had disappeared through a window.

Steve huffed and stomped down the stairs. His knuckles were white from his grip on the rail.

Steve hobbled down the stairs as best he could. Damn, his leg was killing him. It burned like fire each time the muscle moved. His grip on the stair's railing was a vice. But he took it slow. Slow and steady. He'd have to convince Alex to get out of bed for fear he would just drop anything in his hands trying to go back up.

He made it halfway when his legs quivered. Another step just fine, maybe if he took it slower—

He fell.

It wasn't a glamorous fall as his feet gave from beneath him and he slid down the stairs, tipping forward and ending in a loud thud. His wounded shoulder collided with the floor, tearing a loud yelp from his throat. He landed facedown, paralyzed from pain, unable. to move. Adrenaline shot through his system, the throbbing pain stark against the rest of the signals going off.

The dog shot off the couch and bounded towards him, sniffing his ear and neck, prodding him with a cold, wet nose. He gave a small whine, unsure whether to growl in defense at the familiar sickly smell or whine to get the human up. The dog backed up.

A full moment passed before the shock wore off and he was able to sit up, tucking his legs beneath him. But as he tried to stand, nothing responded. He growled as he used the railing to lift himself, his legs slowly kicking back into gear.

Strings of curses passed through his lips as he limped to the kitchen. This was getting ridiculous. He felt sore, a faint ache across his entire body. But it was easily ignored like many other ailments he'd survived. A normal day in the life of a wilderness inhabitant.

The dog followed him curiously. The little twerp had despised him all week. Why was he so interested now? The dog sat stationed at the doorway of the kitchen, not getting close, nor taking his eyes off of the human.

He placed a pan on the stove and turned on the burner. Pouring a bit of oil, moving it around, coating the pan. He opened the fridge for leftover vegetable cuttings and plopped them in the pan. He let it sizzle and move around, frying.

He slowed down when he took a piece of beef he was thawing out of the fridge. He placed it on the cutting board and poised the knife over it. He hesitated. He cut a slice and juice from the marinating sauce dripped down.

The scent of raw meat.

It was filling his nose.

He stared at the knife in his hands. It wasn't blood; it was the juice. The sauce. He had set the pieces of steak to sit in a broth of spices, making the scent and taste even stronger. He discarded the knife on the counter, barely a clack as he let go. He picked up a piece of beef. It was controlling his head. It was raw meat—thawed raw meat. A single bite wouldn't hurt...

Slowly, he lifted the slab of meat to his face and caught sight of the discolored patches of skin on his hand. Tinged yellow and bruised around the patches' edges, and green in the creases of his joints. That wasn't right. No, that shouldn't be happening at all. He cleaned his wounds the best he could.

Steve dropped the slab on the counter and stumbled away. He was going to be sick. He could feel it closing his throat and fighting his consciousness for control. He needed to eat. He needed to finish cooking. But he couldn't touch that slab of beef. There was a creature inside him that howled and groaned. It wanted to devour the slab of meat whole, not caring if it was raw or cooked.

The man hit the far wall of the kitchen and slid down. Pain. Sharp pain in his belly. Hunger. His mouth watered as the scent of raw beef permeated the air. Why couldn't he get it out of his head? He groaned. It hurt. He couldn't move. His stomach growled. Damn this plague, damn this infection, damn his stubborn pride for not taking care of it sooner. He could feel acid bubbling up his throat.

He would have to wait it out.

Steve leaned his head against the wall as he grimaced, baring his teeth in pain with a hiss. He wanted to topple over and curl up. His eyes turned to the dog. The canine sat there, a terrified look on his face. Steve groaned in pain. The dog whimpered and scampered away.

A headache assaulted his head, centered on his face and eyes. The waves of pain radiated from the very front of his face, digging deep into the rest of his head. Panic signals of something wrong. He whimpered. The pain battled across his body, fighting which took space in his head. The sharp stab of hunger. The throbbing pain of his headache.

Only to make matters worse, the sound of light footsteps entered the kitchen. And another pair coming down from the creaking stairs. The demon had approached, probably hiding in a corner to see what the miner would be doing.

Knowing him, the demon saw every little thing. From his stumble down the stairs to him on the floor losing his mind over raw beef. It was pathetic. He wanted to be left alone. Steve brought his knees to his chest and bowed his head in defeat.

There was no point in struggling in this fight.

Herobrine only watched with interest as Alex peered from behind the kitchen entrance, the dog right behind her. He wanted to gloat, to prove his point that the miner shouldn't have ignored his health to such a degree. But the unsteady breaths and the way his head lolled as he rested his forehead on his knees...there was a time for it and right now wasn't it.

The demon scoffed at the green-tinged waves radiating off the miner. Invisible to the human eye, swirls of sickly green exposed a foul aura. A horrid case of hunger. He knew his eyes didn't deceive him, no matter how much the miner deflected his suggestions.

Herobrine knelt in front of Steve and wormed a hand beneath his chin, forcing the miner to look into his eyes. The other hand rested against his forehead. The demon's brows furrowed. He retracted his hand.

"You're burning up," the demon spoke lowly, "As if you're on fire."

Steve couldn't find it in him to resist letting his head fall back against the cabinets, "I don't have a fever... I can't have a fever." The scent of raw beef in the kitchen, on his hands, made his skin crawl.

Alex carefully stepped into the kitchen looking him up and down. "Look at you, you're a sweating mess. I told you to look after yourself!"

"I did!" Steve bit out at Alex, then coughed into his sleeve, "I did..."

Neither of them looked like they believed him. Herobrine had a twitch in his eye.

The demon got up, "Let me get you a wet towel and I can move you to the-"

"Ain't moving," Steve stated. "I'm not sick."

"For someone who just fell down the stairs not fifteen minutes ago, you pick your battles terribly."

"I'll bite you."

Steve's mouth worked faster than his mind. He was getting fed up with both of them right now. He didn't know why he spat it out, but if his hands would not work, he wasn't afraid of playing dirty if it meant telling the demon to fuck off. If either of them were going to insinuate he was under the influence of the zombie infection, he would give them the zombie infection.

"Do you hear yourself? You're delirious. I knew it the moment I sensed it. You have a zombie infection, don't deny it. Let me help you and this'll all be over with. I let you try to solve it on your own and see what happened?"

Herobrine put a hand on Steve's bad shoulder and gripped it tightly. Steve yelped in pain. The pressure of the demon's grip had him squirming, clawing at the hand to release. It hurt. It hurt so badly. Like poking a bruise, but a thousand times worse.

Steve didn't want the demon, nor his friend coddling him like this. Alex knew she could be an ass when she was sick, but Steve was even more prideful than her.

Ironic wasn't it? Alex would have liked to help, but getting in between the two might prove to be complicated. She couldn't worry as she had. Steve clarified it would get her sick all over again. So she remained, watching two stubborn jackasses butt heads.

Herobrine; an unstoppable force. Steve; an immovable object. The arguments and squabbles between the two were few and far between. Usually, Steve would slowly wear the other down and loosen the tension till they could talk it out. Almost always with the outcome of coming away mildly happy. Though in this standoff... it wouldn't be the case.

Steve would not budge, and in effect, Herobrine would not relent.

Steve grabbed the demon's hand, trying to shove him off, "Don't want your help, I'm not a zombie."

Irritation was building. He really wanted to shove the demon off and storm away. He wasn't sick, he couldn't be sick. He cleaned his wounds, took the damn fever-relief. Hell, he was in the sun as much as he could be. Why would he be sick? It was stupid—the demon was stupid; he didn't know shit about being infected.

"Tell that to the green on your knuckles. I will put my influence over you if you continue to refuse to comply." Herobrine was making himself seem large despite kneeling down, an air radiating off him. Heat like a raging forest fire, and something else. It made Steve feel small.

"... I'm fine. You can't control me 'cause I'm not a zombie."

Steve was about to prove a point and get the demon to fuck off. A desire. An idea. He gently grabbed the demon's free hand. His own arm and hand looked delicate and thin, joints protruded.

"Even those who are sane aren't exempt from my influence."

Steve yanked the demon's wrist closer and bit down on his hand, hard. All this anger, this distress, whatever point Herobrine was trying to make was bullshit. If he couldn't speak, this would tell the demon to fuck off. He would make it hurt. The shock it gave Herobrine was satisfying. But he built his stoic facade stronger. His brows furrowed as he tried to pull away as gently as his rising irritation could manage. He swallowed the grit and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Steve, let go," Herobrine stated calmly and coolly.

Alex stepped forward, only to be met with a warning glare from the demon. She resumed her post by the entrance of the kitchen.

Steve bit down harder in spite. As his canines punctured the skin, the tiniest prick of blood washed over his tongue. The blood of the god was intoxicating as if he could taste the power coursing in those veins. He wanted, no, needed more. Something inside him snapped.

Herobrine stifled a snarl, "Let go."

Steve resisted. The feeling of slithering vines wrapped around his head. The pressure, the throbbing headache. He needed to get distance from the demon, but the onslaught of blood, the relief of biting down on a victim, the flesh. He forced his jaw to press harder.

"Steven. I do not wish to hurt you." Herobrine said coolly. His voice dropped an octave as he growled out, "But I will if you do not listen to me."

The miner huffed back, unyielding.

"Let. Go."

A cacophony of screams and woeful moans assaulted his ears. His head was splitting in two. No, they were all in his head. He let go and slammed his head against the wall in shock. The agonies of the dead echoed strongly. He gripped his head in pain as he curled into himself. He needed to get away, he needed to escape. He'd gotten too close.

He tried to cry out, but the sound got lodged in this throat. He experienced a different ick all over as if vines started squeezing and digging into his scalp, wrapping around his throat and limbs.

The chorus of undead screeching came to a crescendo. Warning him to leave, to run, to never return to this area. To submit. The moans pierced his skull in two. He couldn't bear it any longer. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave.

Then it disappeared.

As if it never happened.

His hands were shaking as he sat there. Paralyzed. Nothing responded. Dizziness surrounded him. Woozy. Winded. Like running for five miles nonstop. He couldn't even look at the demon. Adrenaline pulsed through his system.

Herobrine scoffed. "I warned you," He said uncomfortably, casually.

Steve opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The fuck was that? He was numb and exhausted. In those long seconds, he still didn't feel any of his limbs. He felt airy and tense. That drive that... oh gods, no...

Alex marched up to the two of them, putting a hand on Herobrine, trying to pull him back, "What the fuck did you do to him?!"

"Stay back, he's already infectious."

Herobrine batted her away, watching as she backed up. Alex rolled her eyes as she returned, again, to her post by the door, choosing to stay there now. Herobrine then turned back to Steve.

"I'll be surprised if you could move." The demon grabbed the miner by the collar, hoisting him up to his feet and leaning him against the wall, "That was only the taste of my full power at work. I'm surprised you're even conscious after all that. If you want to continue to resist my aid, I will force you to sleep."

Steve wrangled his tongue, "Don't… ever do that again."

Despite the hell, he put him through, defiance was strong in his eyes. He was fighting through the exhaustion and the cloud in his head. A jerky hand clasped onto the demon's wrist as he steadied himself against the wall. Herobrine was not about to deal with that. Steve's head lolled.

Herobrine scoffed, "You're lucky that Alex wasn't the recipient of that outburst. I'm immune to the venom already spitting from your teeth, Alex is not."

Steve stared at the floor numbly, whatever the hell that scene he made…

"I'm really out of it... aren't I?" He spoke meekly.

Herobrine nearly laughed, sarcasm dripped like venom, "Barely coming to that conclusion now?"

It turned in his belly. The thought of Herobrine of all people being right about his own damn health. He wasn't well. His pride crumbled, as did his resolve. Herobrine was trying to help him, and he was being a massive dick about it. It didn't sit right.

"Think you can drag yourself to bed?" Alex said in the silence. Herobrine immediately stood up straight, again towering over him. That buzz of Herobrine's power tingled at the back of his head. A warning.

Steve relented to the other two's help. Bowing his head. Whatever episode that was, it was over now. He just wanted to be off his feet. If he could even drag his feet up the stairs.

A quiet, "Yeah."

Brine's poise relaxed as he stepped away, letting Steve manage his balance and hobble past Alex and out of the kitchen, followed by the other two. The dog finally got up and followed the trio. He wormed his way up the stairs before any of the others and waited.

Alex would have cackled at Steve's walk of shame back to his room. But for right now, they needed to heal up. She would gloat later after they had dealt with it. Damn, watching that one fight and going up and down those stairs really took a lot out of her.

Steve slowly made his way up the stairs, grabbing onto the rail for dear life until his feet touched the second floor and he hobbled down the hallway to his room. Alex hovered near her door, watching as Herobrine escorted the miner into his room, followed closely by the dog. From the partially open door, she saw the demon standing at his full height, arms crossed, watching the miner get in bed. For the first time all week, she also saw the dog hop in bed and curl up at the foot of Steve's bed.

The demon closed the curtains and left, gently shutting the door behind him. He stalked down the hall. His nerves were bristling after that exchange. Alex could see it in the glowering expression on his face.

Alex spoke up as he passed, "Told you he was a hardass..."

"Humph." Herobrine bowed his head before glancing at Alex, "That wasn't him speaking."

Alex tilted her head, "What do you mean by that?"

"The infection does strange things to the head. He wasn't awake when he... bit me. Only after that display of my abilities did he wake up. It's like sleepwalking."

"He's never like this, though. Before you say shit, he worked damn well to keep himself from getting infected," Alex remarked. "We both know this."

"..." Herobrine looked away, brow furrowing in thought. He stepped to the side to rest on the wall parallel to Alex, arms crossed again, "It's not that simple."

"It never is?" Alex raised a brow. "Tell me, since you know so much about zombies."

"The infection was weakening him," Herobrine stated.

Alex rolled her eyes, "Everyone knows that. So what? Was it hiding before coming in full force?"

"Precisely."

Alex kicked at the floor as she hugged herself. "Oh."

"He only cleaned the surface wound, correct? The infection changes from person to person, and well... it was starving him out. He was fighting the necrosis on the outside easily, but the parasites already got inside and grew stronger. It doesn't kill its host inside out, it kills its host inside and outside."

Alex shifted without a sound, only grimacing the more the demon spoke.

"You weren't the only one to see him take every exterior precaution. He removed every speck from the entry wounds, allowed them to heal without the chance of reopening and bleeding out again. He showed common symptoms like everyone, but its severity hides until it knows it can take over with ease. Something can easily trigger the hunger spells, but he resisted them every time... until now."

Alex searched for words. She knew all of this. Both of them had their instances with the infectious bacteria. Many, many times.

"Cleaning it... it's all he's ever needed to do in the past. Why would it suddenly not work now?" Alex asked. She felt woozy.

Herobrine shook his head. "Even that, I do not know. The nature of the plague is fickle."

There was a beat of silence between them. Alex knew the basics, she knew how to deal with it and she knew how to look for the signs. Steve did too. But... Alex searched for something to say, but there wasn't anything she could think of. Herobrine pushed off the wall and nodded to her.

"You should get some rest. I apologize if that scene awoke you."

Alex waved him off, also removing herself from the door frame, "Nah, Dog woke me up when Steve fell. You're good."

Another beat of silence. Herobrine gave the other a look.

"Ok, fine, I'll rest."

"Good."

And he teleported downstairs.

Herobrine entered the storage area and pulled out pieces of gold, an apple, and a potion stand. Alex kept all her ingredients in a cabinet in the kitchen. There had to be something for a weakness potion.

He set the brewing stand on the counter and fished around for any blaze powder. He set everything up, filled a bottle with water, and placed it on the stand. He poured the blaze powder into the small feeder container that flowed through a tube till it hit the bottle, heating it. He then mashed a bunch of mushrooms into a spider eye and waited for it to ferment. Only a second now.

The demon picked up on footsteps heading towards him. Soft, careful steps, slow, calculating. He ignored them as he continued fussing with the brewing stand. The spider's eye swelled and changed color. The mushroom's spore suddenly grew over the eye. The veins in the eye swelled and the entire ball turned into a mass of contorted, bulging arachnid flesh.

The person stood at the doorway, breathing heavily. Herobrine could sense the crawling sensation of a zombie, though so faint it was barely noticeable. Yet he turned his head and scowled. Steve, hardly lucid, was leaning on the frame of the kitchen entrance, sweat across his brow and thick in his hair. Green bruises blossomed across his skin, thicker at his joints.

Herobrine mushed the remaining bulbous sack of a spider eye into the top of the brewing stand and turned to the delirious miner.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" He asked, his voice low.

Steve glanced up wearily, "mhn... Tired."

"Then head back to bed."

Steve pursed his lips, "Don't... wanna be alone." His body teetered as he pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled closer to Herobrine. He was very much out of it.

Influencing the miner's head was tempting, but he restrained himself. Herobrine glanced at the brewing stand. The ingredient liquified with the blaze powder and traveled through the tube till it dripped into the water bottle. The drip and boiling process would take a bit. He needed to make sure it didn't bubble over or change color. Because weakness potions don't require netherwart, a stabilizing ingredient, one wrong step could mess up the entire potion.

Herobrine turned and met the miner in the middle, a gentle hand nudging him back into the living room and towards one couch. He assisted in getting Steve to lie down peacefully. He was in a state between unconsciousness and consciousness. A dazed, sleepwalking state, as the plague in his blood guided him to the only other warm body easily found by wandering through the house.

The demon sauntered back to the bubbling brewing stand. The mixture in the bottle turned gray, and small grainy particles shimmered and slowly swirled in the potion. A few more minutes. Herobrine scowled as the potion bubbled and frothed.

It was only a moment to get the apple transmuted. The red apple sat on the counter surrounded by purified gold pieces. With his skill in enchanting and the arcane, it was easy wrapping the gold around the fruit and infusing it with its signature abilities. The apple took on a glow, as did the gold pieces, as they merged and wrapped around each other. The glow faded and a perfectly smooth golden apple sat in its place.

Herobrine took the potion out of the stand and grabbed the apple and returned to the man laying on the couch. He looked half-dead as his eyes fluttered at his approach, yet they didn't open.

Herobrine swirled the gray solution and scoured it for imperfections. The potion looked thick and viscous, leaving a heavy residue on the sides as it swished around. Brewed to perfection. Good for him, terrible for Steve.

It was at this moment as Herobrine stood over Steve holding the weakness potion that Steve woke up fully.

His dulled purple eyes went wide as he stared at the blasted potion. His body already writhed at the thought of shoving that disgusting sludge down his throat. The medicine had a funky aftertaste. The potions were so much more potent.

Steve shifted to sit up a little, eyeing the potion with distrust.

Herobrine glanced down at the movement, an irritated look in his eye. Something that yelled 'resist what I'm about to do and I'll wrestle you to the floor and force it down your throat.'

Steve sat up straight on the couch, weak as ever, staring up numbly at Brine, a glint in his eye that was filled with malice for a split second before melting away back into passiveness. His eyes were glazed over, cloudy as fever produced sweat across his brow. He shivered.

Taking a moment to look at the man, Herobrine saw him at his worst. He'd had a hefty mass, gained from years of labor and work, only to be stripped away in the matter of what, less than two weeks? The fat on his stomach wasted away, as did the extra fat and muscle on the rest of his body. Eaten away by the plague. It would take a severe infection to see the man's ribs, that much he knew, but the amount of muscle mass lost was... sad.

Herobrine put the bottle to Steve's lips and tilted it, letting the man take it in his hands. Immediately the miner sputtered and grimaced, but the sludge kept going. He would have to drink it all, no matter how much he struggled through it.

The signs of the potion taking effect were instantaneous.

The potion tasted awful. Moldy, musty mushrooms and a stomach-churning aftertaste, like spoiled milk. It left a thick slimy residue in his throat and mouth. It was also grainy and chunky. He could feel the sludge hit his stomach as it churned uncomfortably. Then his vision grew hazy. Another hunger strike sent sharp pain through his abdomen, his weakened body vulnerable to the infection coursing through his veins. It was strong.

One second Steve could sit, the next his shoulders slumped, as did the rest of his body. A woeful moan slipped from his lips. Herobrine caught him before he could topple over the couch and let his back rest against the backrest of the sofa. The bottle rolled out of his hands and fell to the floor, empty. He curled into himself.

Half-lidded sickly purple eyes stared at the demon hovering over him, begging for relief. Steven shuddered, too weak to move his arms. He looked more dead with the weakness potion than before, rugged, distressed, empty. The hunger returning tenfold.

Brine sat down next to Steve and placed the golden apple against his lips, coaxing the miner to bite.

Ironically, Steve looked more like a zombie now than when he had his hunger strike. He leaned forward. Head cocked to the side. Looking entirely too sleepy to be conscious. A common side effect of the weakness potion. And he had yet to give the man the apple.

"Steven, just a little bite," Herobrine whispered, so calmly, so softly.

The miner's head lolled as he tried to look at the other, a sad look in his eyes, "Can't..."

Herobrine knew Steve was going to hate him for this, but he let his eyes glimmer brighter and wormed his way into Steve's head. The miner reached out shakily, caressing the golden skin of the apple.

Herobrine held it up to Steve's mouth, pressing it against his lips to coax a bite. The hunger swirling around the miner worked faster than he could as the miner bit with sudden force. His arms reached up and tore the apple from his hand, ravaging the magic fruit. He didn't even spare the core.

Steve leaned back, finally sated. Relief was evident in his features as the sweet juice washed happily over his tongue. It sated his hunger for now, and he was happy to relax.

It started as a tremble, a little shiver, then it grew. The miner toppled over as a soft cry came from his lips. Near seizing on the couch. The shaking wouldn't stop. He looked up with weary eyes, begging for it to stop. Herobrine could only watch.

The sweetness of the fruit flashed bitter and sour on Steve's tongue. His stomach rolled twice as badly. He wanted to throw it up, but it settled deep. It ached, hurt, burned, churned. Oh, gods, he wanted to throw up so badly. The burning sensation crawled from his core to the rest of his body, the apple's magic traveling through his veins.

"Fuckin... hurts! B-burns..."

Like fire in his body. The healing magic purging any bit of infection in his veins. He felt like he was being burned from the inside out. It was too hot. And too cold. He curled up and whimpered as if boiling lava was swirling inside him.

Herobrine finally forced the miner to fall unconscious, sparing him from the agony that would remain over the next few hours.

The demon rose and scooped the man into his arms, lifting him from the couch. He continued to involuntarily shiver and tremble, worse than a leaf in a hurricane. The shaking wouldn't stop until the morning when the very last particle of the infection was purged from his system.

The miner was light. Like, concerning light. This sudden weight change was painfully noticeable. Herobrine had lifted Steve many times before in rough-housing and the occasional adventure, so he knew just how bad the infection had affected Steve.

Herobrine meticulously made his way up the stairs and into the man's bedroom.

Placing Steve on the red sheets, he gently shifted to rest Steve's head on his pillow. His trembling shook the entire mattress with him. Herobrine elected to keep watch, sitting down on the end of the bed, just in case. The mattress seemed to stop shaking so badly with his added weight. He didn't want the man to stumble out of bed and get himself hurt.

"You mortals are a lot of trouble." Herobrine scoffed. Yet, in his head, he was glad for something to do. Even if it meant having to babysit two morons whose pride had them worrying about everyone but themselves.

...

When Steve opened his eyes the next morning, he instinctively braced himself for pain but found nothing of the sort. The sheets were tucked neatly around his body. A folded towel sat on his forehead.

Grimy was a good word for the feeling that clung to his body, yet he felt not an ache of soreness or the sharp pain of his calf and shoulder. He was... normal. Healthy. His shoulder was free of bandages. Peeling back the covers, he patted himself down. It would take a while to gain most of his body mass and muscle back, but he felt okay.

A glass of water glinted in the soft morning light. The water in the glass still rippled from being placed. Placed a moment before he awoke. He gratefully took the glass and gulped down its contents, satiating his dry throat. He must have cried out in pain multiple times during the night with all that trembling.

Steve swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. No gray fuzz, no dizziness, not even a single blip of a headache from letting the morning rays bathe against his skin. It felt nice and warm, like a hug.

Lightly, he opened his door and sauntered downstairs. The scent of breakfast hit him first, before the sound of oil being fried and shuffling from the kitchen. The stairs were child's play as he went down them, hardly needing the railing for stability.

Herobrine fussed with the stove, moving pans and making sure nothing burned. He put omelets on two separate plates with hash browns and bacon. Things he knew they didn't have in stock. Herobrine took the plates and set them on the table, even with two glasses of fresh juice. A breakfast ready for him.

Steve walked in, eyeing the breakfast and flitting his eyes between the waiting plate and the demon. Herobrine gestured to the table. The omelet was mouthwatering as he drew closer and sat down. He did not look the other in the eye, but the words desperately wanted to spill from his mouth. He poked at the omelet.

"Thank you for putting up with me last night..." Steve got out. His voice was gravelly. "I just... you really saved my stupid ass there."

Herobrine thought about it, something Alex said to him a while back. He set his fork down and looked right at Steve. The words bounced around his head and felt strange on his tongue.

"It's what friends do."

"Friends..." Steve repeated as if looking for confirmation in his own voice.

Herobrine let the slightest hint of a grin slip through. The phrase didn't seem so foreign now. Friends. Surely he was nothing more like a cat that hung around for no discernible reason, but he cared if just a little.

The man sitting across from him still had the little flakes of last night on his shoulder, but he was looking better. His skin was regaining its natural tan color, the deep bags beneath his eyes had faded, allowing his purple eyes to shine again. Full of life, inside and out.

Not a word was spoken between the two as they ate. But the calm air surrounding them said everything that needed to be said.

...

(A. N. If you want to see what I do between chapters, go check out my Tumblr: bi-ocelot. Thanks, Splintergirl13 and Slingading for beta-reading! You should check out their works if you like mine. No, seriously, they were an amazing help. I couldn't have done it without them, especially for combing through all 20k+ words and checking my atrocious grammar.

Fun fact: I created this exact idea around the same time I started the first chapter of Dragon's Breath all the way in 2019 making it my second oldest fic I've officially posted. I have changed it about a dozen times since.)