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STRINGS OF FATE
Part IV: Out of the Pan, Into the Fire
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The heat was a slap in the face. He loathed the way his lungs felt with every breath, yet suffered on. The feeling never lasted long, despite the nether making the hottest desert in summer look like the tundra compared to it.
The tendrils of the purple portal slipped from his body.
As he stepped off the obsidian rim, his weight was met with the creak of floorboards. A more substantial and spongy sound than the floorboards he knew in the overworld. Cyan blue mushroom wood made up the entire shack. Small windows filled with a fence barrier were on all sides, allowing airflow. They made the door out of iron to ward away any curious intruders from entering. In the corners were chests filled with extra supplies and loot they hadn't carried home yet.
A larger window and another door led to the balcony Alex made. Steven went back in and added a rail just for safety measures. It hung a little over the edge of the cliff and overlooked part of the warped forest and long over that. It was an alien yet gorgeous sight.
The shack was a temporary base, the one he and Alex had built their first adventure here. A feeling of home, as distant as it was, calmed his nerves in a way he couldn't describe. It made being in the nether less... depressing. A haven within the haven of the warped-forest. No threat of angry mobs or an even angrier demon. A breather. Somewhere where he wasn't on edge every second.
'Grrreeaaaahhhh... Creeaaak... Ccrruuuueeench... Haaaaah...'
Steven shuddered. The ambiance of the nether was a bone-chilling one. A world of infinite woeful moans, grunts, creaking, and buzzing. The sound of the mushroom trees creaking and snapping as they grew. The distant growls of nether inhabitants. No matter how long he stayed, it terrified him.
The trees absorbed most of the dreaded heat, turning the thermal energy into light in the form of shroomlights and the glow of the pulsing hyphae stem veins. Steve felt lucky to have the portal spawn here, though he couldn't imagine why their old portal disconnected; more pressing matters were at hand. At least this area wasn't depleted of resources, which made his job easier.
Alex had returned in the morning, an inventory and some filled with supplies, stuff to repair the house, and her arm wrapped neatly in a stiff cast. Like Steven had suspected, the blast and fall mixed and resulted in a fracture. A minor one, thankfully, but time healed those injuries much better than any potion could.
She rode back with a light soul, cheerful about something. And thankfully his nerves calmed. His voice had returned under the duration of the night. The doctor wound her arm in a plaster cast and put it in a sling. Steven was correct in his assumption that something wasn't entirely right, and it turned out that the bone had a minor fracture. How she hasn't frozen in pain was beyond them, but it wasn't her first or her last fracture.
Luckily, with Alex's amazing healing speed, she should be ready to go within six weeks. But that meant two months of Alex being out of service in the middle of storm season. And that wasn't the only news she brought.
True, she had depleted most of their emerald store for supplies, but with the stakes being as high as they were, he honestly didn't care. But excitement welled when he saw her procure the shiny armor from her inventory. Crafted specifically for him.
"The blacksmiths wanted to repay their debt to you. They've never found a miner that could find iron as good as you and wanted to give you something special. Also, a bit extra for saving their asses when the season got rough and supplying them."
A token of friendship. That's what Alex had told him. He was in disbelief that they would do something like this on a whim. The resources, the skill, the time. It sounded too good to be true.
They heard Steven was going on an expedition to the nether, a very important one. Rumor travels fast in a small town, and the chatter with Raina wasn't all that reserved. They must have kicked up into high gear to get this ready for him.
It fit damn near perfectly. Taken from measurements of previous armor, he commissioned a while ago. It was a full chest plate. From shoulder to partial gauntlets that protected the tops of his hands. Going down to a buffer around his waist where the thigh guards buckled. Even shin guards that covered the tops of his shoes. It wasn't fancy, little decals of leaves and vines thinly engraved for some flavor, but it was a godsend for this expedition. Even the leatherworker's apprentice pitched in with a new resource bag with extra space and pockets in case his inventory got full.
He would need to thank them profusely when he visited next time.
Steven, as compassionate a person as he was, was still cynical about the motive of the smiths that gifted him such a wonderful set of armor. He knew how the world worked, and how the world had treated him in the past. A little dark thought inched into the back of his head. Maybe this was a guise to have him be indebted to them. They obviously knew he was venturing into the nether, maybe they wanted him to go mining for them. Or maybe they needed to protect their best source of materials. Nearly all of his extra stock went to the smiths.
No, all of that was stupid. The smiths were kind people. He was overthinking it. The blacksmiths were a very unusual bunch; they treated him more like an actual person than some of the village. The master blacksmith instilled it in the apprentices. It was a friendly gift.
Steven shook all the thoughts from his head. He was nervous about the nether trip it was leaching into other aspects of his life.
With the extra supplies, new gear, and a drive, Steven suited up with haste. He stored his spare picks and tools for extra precautions, but he took a diamond pick for luck. At last, he leaped into the nether, ready to take on the vicious heat and grueling terrain.
That's where we return.
Steven opened the door of the cyan cabin and stepped out. The netherrack was sharp and spongy beneath his feet. A very uncomfortable texture to a new foot. He rolled his shoulders and started walking. The armor still needed time to be broken in, but he was too excited to wait to use it, needing it now more than ever.
The gold shining in the red hues of the nether was a beautiful feeling. He felt rather regal amongst the barren wasteland. The small decals of leaves retain shadows, outlining the art and showing the skill of craftsmanship. He believed with his heart that someone graduated out of apprenticeship for this set. If he wandered out of the warped forest, the piglins would give him no grief with how realistic the false gold looked, might as well be the same thing, hell it might be a mix of both real and false gold. Another inkling of doubt seeding into his mind: no way this was real gold. No one would waste such a precious metal for free. Not even for a simple friend.
He thought about taking the path Alex and he had taken a while ago, but the idea of seeing the giant fortress set a foul taste on his tongue. He turned away to a crevice in the wall behind the cabin.
Guess he'd start there.
Steven took a deep breath, inhaling the air of the nether. Only to sputter and cough. It sure as hell was musty, dusty, and hot. All three of his least favorite things.
He sauntered over to the crevice in the wall and slipped through the narrow opening into a sort of tunnel, carved from something into another pocket
The crevice connected to a tiny cave that seemed to slowly tilt down. Less mushroom vegetation rooted itself here, but the cyan moss that blanketed the warped forests' floor spread far. A few endermen in the distance gave wary looks in his direction before teleporting off. He paid no mind. The endermen of the nether were more solitary than their overworld counterparts, even avoiding each other in the nether.
Quartz was poking out of the wall, along with some golden shimmers nearby. Steven looked around just in case, and found no sign of piglins, if they could even access this area. He summoned his pickaxe and got to work. The sharp edge of his tool embedding into the soft alien stone and prying the pieces of the quartz out with ease.
The netherrack crumbled like thick clumps of clay-infused sand and actual stones. Left were the branches and roots of the quartz, with harder chunks of netherrack still clinging to the material. He continued with the rest of the vein, picking up large and small chunks as he went on.
The enjoyable part of his diamond pick was that it glided through the netherrack easily enough and cleanly, not to disturb the quartz and accidentally shatter it into slightly undesirable shards.
The nether was serene in the most disturbing ways. A hellscape compared to his home. He found a small portion of nether-wastes and in the near distance a crimson forest. Tall boughs, more mushroom-like in stature. The heads of the crimson trees were spongy masses that drooped and swayed with the air current in the area.
Tendrils of twisting vines hung from the masses of the bulbous canopy of the mushrooms. Brushing against the thick blanket of a grass mirror, nylium. The red carpet covering the netherrack of the red forest was bushy and fuzzy, like blades of fine grass packed close together, a solid piece of vegetation slowly crawling across the netherrack, being managed and grazed by hoglins and striders. Small mushrooms and larger bushes protruded from the nylium.
Yet as he drew close to the edge of the forest, a suspicious lack of creatures was clear. Almost always there was some sort of inhabitant out and about. Piglins hunting or traveling through the cover of the crimson forest. Hoglins scavenging and grazing on the nylium. Even the occasional skeleton wandering from across the nether. But it was scarce, not a soul roamed. He half expected a hoard of zombified-piglins to appear, scaring away the rest of the creatures, but not even they were around.
He listened intently for the woeful cry of a ghast, the sloshing of a magma cube, but nothing appeared from the ambiance of the nether.
As if the entire area, for as far as he could see, was abandoned.
Shrugging, he continued on. The creatures were one less thing to worry about, even in this golden armor, he didn't dally as he skipped across the nether wastes. The occasional pocket of quartz catching his eye and glowstone nestled on the side of a mound. He hopped over to the glowstone.
Steven unclipped the pick from his belt and hoisted the tool over his head and swung down. First, he aimed for the root of the glowstone to break the largest outside chunk from the netherrack. A flurry of dust flew into his face when the largest chunk fell and quickly scooped into his inventory. He carefully mined out the rest of the glowstone with minimal dust loss. Someone could easily compact the dust back into the stone form, but it was a hassle when it got everywhere. Making anyone covered in the dust shine like a beacon in the dead of night when the sorry soul accidentally dropped an uncured glowstone lamp. That may or may not have been him once, and it was a nice lamp too.
Steven shoved more and more things into his backpack. Plugging the holes and voids with the spare netherrack he acquired. The trip was going smoothly, so he stopped to take a break, popping the lid of his canteen and taking a long drink, relishing the water on his tongue.
Right as he was about to move on, he felt eyes boring into his back. It was just some mobs probably finally drawing near, curious about his existence. Steven turned around to find nothing. Not a piglin, zombified or normal, not a strider, not even a hoglin. Nothing was in the forest, nothing roaming the wastes. He was alone. Steven shrugged it off. Maybe it was time for him to leave soon. Staying in the nether long enough could do things to your head.
The miner preferred to skirt the edge of the forest. Easy to duck beneath the fungi canopy to escape ghasts and weave around hoglins. He collected quartz and ignored most of the gold as he went along. It wasn't on his list, and he rarely needed gold. The piglins seemed incredibly fond of it, so he left it as is. Quartz, on the other hand, was fair game.
His pack was growing heavy when the eyes on his back grew hotter, as if they were right... behind... him.
'Crunch.'
Steven whipped around. Nothing still. He felt a shiver run down his spine. Something wasn't right. No creatures in sight. There should be droves of piglins roaming about. Zombified and not. The shrill purrs and cries of ghasts. The sloshing squelch of a magma slime hopping across the land.
But it was nothing.
Only the crumbling and static of the natural ambiance.
His eyes glazed over the forest's edge. Peering from behind a large trunk was a pair of white eyes. His head suddenly went loopy. His chest tightened as he sat there staring at the lurking figure. The demon was so far away, he couldn't decipher any features, just the light. As dim as the shroomlights, passive, watching.
Backing away, Steven did not turn his back on the entity. More like he kept walking sideways. Keeping his sight on the demon and the terrain. Slowly moving away until he couldn't see the other. He followed a different path away from the forest. But the alternative path led him back into familiar terrain, backtracking in a sense. It was away from that forest, so he didn't complain. The list also detailed blackstone and the only way to get that was to mine beneath the main surface of the nether.
He deviated from the trail to pick up extra pieces he had missed. It would take a few more trips of scouring the top layer before having to resort to strip mining beneath the surface. But why would he complain? Strip mines were possibly the safest places, mob-wise. Zombified piglins were too dumb to go downstairs or work doors, piglins don't care for anything that doesn't belong to them, and hoglins are too big to fit in the mine.
Maybe if he dug deep enough, he would find some legendary netherite. He had only seen the ancient debris once in his life and wished desperately to get his hands on some by his own hard work.
He slipped into another crevice and entered a small pocket of warped mushroom forest, the one near his portal. The tall cyan mushrooms loomed overhead. Their spongy masses atop their stems draped serenely to the floor. The mushy coating of aqua mushroom grass crunched and squashed beneath his boots.
He paused, for a moment, to lean against a tree.
'crunch.'
Steven turned around again, confused, and that unsettled churning in his stomach returned. White-eyes, staring, unblinking, right at him. Peering from the crevice, he slipped through. Another staring contest. The demon did not dare get close. Just watching. Steven shrugged off the strange behavior and moved on. He shouldn't dawdle if he was being stalked in such a manner.
Then he thought about it. The golden pendant. Maybe the demon was pacified by its presence, but not once did the pendant vibrate or hum. It was a stretch to believe since the demon was not a mob. In reality, he was a completely separate entity. If the pendant was at work, it would have thrummed where it hung flush against his chest.
Steven cast a glance over his shoulder. The demon maintained the same distance but slipped further behind one of the crimson mushroom trees. Still staring right at the miner, unblinking. As long as he wasn't getting closer, Steven didn't care. Possibly the demon was influenced, much like the piglin were, with gold. Infatuated with the precious metal.
The miner easily lost time in the nether. The concept of it was strange in the fiery realm, as if slowed or nearly stopped. Steven continued with his pick in hand, cutting through the netherrack with ease and trekking back to his portal. He needed a water break.
He slipped through the door and sauntered back to the portal. The large ring of obsidian plates stacked together. The ripples and swirls of the portal carrying the breeze of both the overworld and the nether together.
As he stepped through the portal, it looked almost as if the purple tendrils caressed and wrapped around his body, welcoming the human back into his home dimension. Away from the inhabitable terrain of the nether.
Fresh air swept into his lungs. Cool and damp, like diving into an oasis. But the feeling of cool air slowly crawling through his armor and into his skin made him extremely aware of how dusty and parched he was.
Steven hopped up the stairs and opened the door to the bunker to see the sun still shining high in the sky. It had barely been any time; it felt like he was down there for hours. Time was so strange between the two dimensions, almost as if it had paused between his time in the nether and the overworld.
His homestead sat in the middle of the meadow. The forest edge was only a dozen or so meters away. Towering oaks and birches all around. The summer grass waving in the sun. It was beautiful and serene, he couldn't change it for the world.
But as he approached, the more he noticed how sad it looked. The structure was fine, except for that one wall. But the outer edges of the house were discolored and cracked. It had a good seal, but the more he saw the paneling, the more he thought about exchanging it for bricks. A much sturdier alternative, one that could withstand more than the wood.
Panels chipped, cracked, dislodging from the actual wall. The long long supports that made the corners stood straight, but the beams that stretched across the walls seemed to bow. The windows were dirty and smudged, no matter how much he cleaned them. The roof was a whole different story. Wooden shingles were all cracked, shifted, or not even there. He could see where some shingles had dislodged and left holes for water to enter.
His wonderful home, his haven against the world. Falling apart. The storms of this season ravaged it terribly. It only added to how desperate he was for these jobs. He could make all the materials, but one man can't do everything. The quality would be mediocre and break faster than what he already had.
Steven bowed his head and hurried forward, opening the door and swept himself inside. The dog perked up at his arrival; the canine was napping on the sofa, only to be disturbed by Steven's arrival.
The miner sauntered over to his companion and rubbed the top of his head. The canine's tail thumped against the couch as it wagged, happy to see the miner safe and sound back home.
Nether materials and scrap cluttered his inventory. He gave the dog one last pet before sauntering over to the storage room and dumping everything into a chest to organize later.
It was a good hour of resting, drinking water, and eating. Bread with butter and jam, a piece of summer fruit, and even a glass of juice. Everything to replenish the calories and water he used while dealing with the nether. There was a lot of light left in the day. He could spend a little more time resting and then head back into the nether. Maybe to wander around and take more notes about the area he was in.
He finished up his meal and relaxed. Ah, he really shouldn't take anything about the overworld for granted. Especially when compared to the nether.
...
Steven felt considerably lighter the second time he went through the portal. Maybe it was that he wasn't carrying stacks upon stacks of minerals and resources on him and in his inventory. He had a good rest and downed as much water as he could hold and hopped back into the nether.
The miner exited the safe-house and walked along the path that ran parallel with the magma river he and Alex had taken on their first expedition in this new area. Striders were much faster, but he didn't want to deal with the hassle of finding one and saddling it. He didn't even have a saddle on hand.
It took a bit, but then he got to the place where they had to get off and walk on foot. Steven traced his path, just like he did that while ago. Over, under, around. Hiking across semi-familiar terrain.
The path was rugged. He got close to the edge where it sloped down to the beach that lined the flowing river of magma. But warped trees grew sparser and sparser the longer he walked. Yet remained thick in foliage, it really helped that it soaked up a lot of the heat.
He hopped over crevices, and heaved his armored body over edges, and climbed up.
The ceiling dipped in this one area, creating a wall between this area and the next. Allowing shelves where narrow paths of thin mushroom trees settled. The magma flow continued through this one natural arch. Just how he remembered.
Steven found the same cave hidden by a set of thick hanging vines. As if right back when he was first exploring, imagining Alex by his side, giddy and excited. He swallowed as he pushed through the heavy curtain of vines.
It was just like how he saw it the first time.
The ledge overlooked the enormous cavern with a grand landscape. The expansive sea of lava flowing ever onward, the cliffs and larger ledges of netherrack, the gravel, and soulsand beaches that the thick waves of magma lapped at. Making up the beaches were layers upon layers of crimson and warped forests. Lush alien foliage drooping from over the ledges and platforms they grew on. Hollow pockets stacked on top of each other within the netherrack.
Far in the distance, connected by a single bridge to the mainland of this sea, was the cursed fortress.
The fortress itself sat on a pillar of netherrack. Tall, thick pillars of netherbrick protruded from the magma and supported the outer wings of the fortress. He could see tiny yellow dots flitting around the guard towers at each edge of ramparts around the fortress, blazes, and a blaze spawner at the top of each. Ghasts stayed far from the fortress, he could see the jellyfish-like creatures moping around near the far edges of the cavern, away from him.
Below him, around a good couple dozen of meters down, was the channel that fed into this giant chamber. Striders scurried around happily, some with warped fungus hanging from their wide mouths. He inched closer trying to get a better look at the herd.
He leaned over the edge of the cliff, it sure was a ways down. But his eyes lead back to the fortress. The haunting air of that place. It strangled his mind. He had a question he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He hadn't seen the demon around, possibly he retreated back to his lair.
Steven swallowed his concerns and slowly undid the glove on his left hand. As the lacing and grip relaxed, so did the enchantment. It felt like heaven, like taking a tight, stiff, and scratchy shirt off after a long and hot day. The feeling of the enchantment was cool on his hand as he released it to the open air.
The dread crimson string appeared around his left pinky. He followed the line with his eyes when it suddenly... whipped to rub against his hand, pointing straight behind... him...
Instinct forced him to look.
The demon was only a few meters behind him.
"Gah!" Steven yelped as he jolted. His heart leaped into his throat when he tried to gain his balance from the shock, only to realize his mistake a second too late.
His center of gravity shifted drastically. Steven felt the floor beneath him disappear as he tilted backward. He had taken a step back in surprise, despite knowing there was nothing behind him. He felt himself fall.
It was a flash of colors and blurs, and then it wasn't. Something unbearably hot clamped around his arm as his feet kicked at the edge of the cliff. His eyes were blurry from the tears of fear and tears of dust swarming into his eyes. His shoulder protested the pressure as the joint was stretched. His balance was pulled back to normal, feet on solid ground.
Steven sat there in shock. The hot clamp did not release its hold. Only pulling him further from the ledge. He blinked once, then twice. A hand around his wrist. Steven looked up to see a neutral look on the demon's face. The demon looked down to see his hand clamped around Steven's wrist.
A crimson string, the cursed red string, the one that bound the two together. It was connected and twined around each of their wrists. The heat of the other's hand grew uncomfortable, but strangely... welcoming. He couldn't find a better word than that, it was on the tip of his tongue.
Then their eyes met. Just like in the fortress. So close together, yet much closer than the encounter in the fortress. Steven could see each freckle and pore on the demon's face, the tired creases around his eyes. The glow was near blinding, but he could see the faintest outline of a pupil.
Herobrine stared back passively, entranced by the mystical color of the human's eyes. A bright indigo, a deep purple. So unnatural he believed it to be a trick of the light. He had seen many amethysts and crystals in his collection, but none could rival the shine in the human's eye.
The miner didn't know what to do; he was standing an arm's length away from the demon. He couldn't move, the demon had him grappled. Steven stared up at the demon, pleading with his eyes to be spared. The smallest movements in the demon's face. He was thinking, the way his head tilted ever so slightly, and the little movement in his brow. Thinking about what? Steven was to terrified to even want to know.
The demon grimaced and violently tossed his hand to the side. Steven fell to the side, away from the deadly ledge. Fearful eyes staring up at the demon as his hands collided with the sharp netherrack. The demon growled darkly. Looking like a creeper about to burst.
Steven fled.
Wild thoughts ran through his head as he weaved through the cliffs and crude paths of the nether. He raced through the forest, ducking around, between, under, over, everywhere of each mushroom tree. The sound of heavy footsteps and the vwooping of a teleporting enderman not far behind.
Yet, his terror-filled mind made it clear. The constant tugging of the string at his hand, desperately trying to yank him back, made it painfully clear that there was no enderman after him. So suddenly was he no longer the hunter, but the hunted.
His legs grew numb as he pushed himself. Adrenaline forcing him to flee faster. The sudden change in temperament shocked him as much as it terrified him. An entity that saved him from an agonizing, burning death, now chasing him through the warped-forest in the nether. This was never an option. He shouldn't have been so passive about letting the other stalk him. This was a terrible idea.
The miner stumbled through foliage and netherrack, dodging the many unstable parts of the path. The static roar of an enderman filling his head, distracting him. He needed to get out. He needed to leave. He didn't belong here. He never belonged here.
He could see the familiar meadow, and the sight of a roof up ahead. And the sound of heavy footsteps closing in. The portal, he needed to get through the portal.
The door flung open with a crash as he threw all of his weight onto it. The whispering portal sitting idly there. Fingertips grazed his shirt. He bolted forward and dove for the portal. The portal welcomed him too easily as he came crashing through the other side.
His collision with the floor knocked the air from his lungs as the cold musty surface of the stone floor touched his exposed flesh. He coughed and hacked. The foul, ashy air of the nether clung to his throat. His entire body shuddered and shivered. He was safe. He was okay. Nothing can touch him. He was safe.
'Crack!'
Steven whipped his head around and felt the flash of anxiety across his chest all over again. A pair of fiercely glowing eyes, like white blazing fire, staring at him through the purple mist. The demon had a palm on the center of the portal, glaring with malice.
Right at the demon's palm was a fracture. A crack similar to that of a circular crack in a pane of glass after a hard hit, like the glass was still intact but shattered. The fingers of the shattered point grew slightly jutting as the demon pressed further. Almost as if trying to get through the portal, to get to him.
The demon suddenly thrust his hand forward. The portal bent and warped, the sound of glass cracking and finally shattering in a loud burst. The image of the demon fizzled out as particles of the now broken portal floated and disintegrated away.
Did... did he just... break the portal?
Short breaths were caught in his throat. He needed to breathe. He was fine. It was just a broken portal. The demon couldn't get to him anymore. He was safe in the overworld.
Steven tucked his knees to his chest. Trying to keep the black dots from swarming his vision. He could feel the woozy static in his head. No more nether. No more quartz, no more ledges, no more magma, no more fucking demons.
...
Alex sighed, bored, reading a random book she snagged from the small bookshelf they had. Her arm ached. Long after the fact that there was indeed a hairline fracture in her arm. Luckily that was the extent of it, but it was annoying to all hell.
The dog played the role of moral support, wagging his tail and resting his large head on her lap as she read. Cozying up despite the beautiful day outside.
The door swung open with a creak.
Alex lowered the book to see an exhausted Steven standing there. Covered in dust, ash, and other things. Bags dark beneath his eyes and a slouch in his posture. He nodded his head lightly at Alex as he stepped forward and closed the door. He leaned on the door relishing the feeling of cool wood on his sweaty back. Even the summer heat was a paradise compared to the nether.
The tanned-skin man before her was a face she was glad to see. The world was calmer when he was around, she was always buzzing with energy. Meeting people, talking to people, doing things, partying, having fun. It was always on the go with her. But when Steven practically stumbled into her life, she found an appreciation for the small, the mundane. It made the grand even grander.
But those little appreciations were seen in his eyes. Deep purple, near blue in some light. Cloudy and distant, lost in thought, more than usual. The scar across the bridge of his nose was smudged with dirt as was the rest of his armor. His dark brown hair was all over the place, bits of mushroom foliage sticking out probably from brushing against low-hanging boughs. The golden armor fit like a charm, and held up very well for the first run, the gold shined dazzlingly even after a long day of work.
Neither of the two spoke, just peaceful silence, Steven seemed to relish in that too. No more crumbling static ambiance of the nether, the woeful moans, and bone-chilling shrieks. Just the sound of a breeze against the walls, the creak of the cook beneath his feet as he shifted, and the huffs of the dog snoring away.
Steven pushed himself off the door and walked straight towards Alex. He leaned over and gave her a long hug, squeezing a little for good measure. The embrace lasted longer than normal, he wasn't a touchy person. But it was full of meaning if that says anything. He then pulled away, gave the dog a little rub on the head, and then sauntered up the stairs. Not a word was exchanged.
Alex sighed and shook her head with a smile, her shirt was smudged with dirt. Well, at least he's home safe and can take damn a shower. The miner may be her best friend, but even best friends need to shove each other in the shower every once in a while.
...
(A. N. If you want to see what I do between chapters, go check out my Tumblr: bi-ocelot. Thanks, Splintergirl13 for beta-reading! You should totally check out her works if you like mine.)