Chapter 7

Steve coughed and gasped for air; it felt as though someone was squeezing his throat and sitting on his lungs. He shivered, even though his entire body was sweltering and sweating with fever. His muscles cramped as blood pounded through his shrunken veins, and there was a strange pulsating sensation he felt around each spider bite. The world around him distorted into unknown shapes, like he was looking through an ever-changing kaleidoscope; the sight was enough to make him sick, but when he closed his eyes to escape it he found no comfort.

DC watched him apprehensively, terrified of the thought that the poison could actually kill him. Steve had been so helpful so far: traveling with him, protecting him from the hostiles, providing him with a shelter… And what did he get in return - a deadly infection that could very well be the end of him? The guilt was almost too much to bear. Why did he have to have spawned as a creeper? Why not something like a zombie, or a skeleton, or even a spider itself? At least they had an attack that didn't kill them afterwards. Creepers were nothing but sentient bombs, albeit ones with legs. If only he could have fought the spiders. Then, maybe, Steve wouldn't be in the painful predicament he was in now. The very thought made DC loathe himself.

"Isn't there anything I can do, Steve?" he asked desperately. "Anything at all? There must be something…"

Steve looked at him weakly. "There is one thing," he said in a scratchy voice.

DC hovered over him eagerly. "Yes! What is it? I can do it. Anything!"

"There is an antidote for spider poison; the ingredients for it can probably be found near our location. Of course, it won't be able to completely heal me with as many bites as I have, but it can be used to temporarily hold off the effects."

"I can go retrieve them for you," DC said. "It's the least I can do."

Steve shook his head. "How can you gather anything when you don't have arms? Besides, it's nighttime now; we need to wait until the morning if you don't want to be killed."

"We can't wait until morning! You're in bad enough shape as it is. I can do this (somehow). Just tell me what I need."

Steve saw the determination in the creeper's eyes and realized it would be useless to argue. "Alright," he gave in. "Listen carefully. First of all, we're going to need a glass jar to put the antidote in, and for that we need sand to smelt; I have enough cobblestone to make a furnace, so we'll just need the sand.

"Besides that, we need a bone to crush into bone meal, a petal from a rose, two stems from brown mushrooms, and a strand of string from a spider to act as a sort of antibiotic."

DC memorized the list. Sand, bone meal, rose petal, two brown mushroom stems, string. "Got it," he said with a nod.

Steve struggled to his feet and mined an opening in their shelter before returning to his spot in the corner. "Be careful," he warned.

"I will," DC promised.

The night air was cool and fresh, yet it did not possess the relaxed feeling that a morning breeze would. Though there weren't many hostiles around, DC could spot out a few in the distance. He would have to be careful if he wanted to make it through this unharmed.

The first thing Steve had mentioned was sand, and it just so happened to be the first thing DC saw; there was a small pool of water surrounded by it near the shelter. The only question was how to obtain it. He couldn't just pick it up with non-existent hands.

Use what you have, he thought. Steve is counting on you.

He had feet - four of them, in fact. Maybe he could use those. Standing in front of the sand, he reached one foot back and propelled it forward against the sand in a little "creeper kick". To his surprise, this method actually worked, producing a block of sand at his feet. Now, how would he pick it up? He still had the pouch of torches strapped to him; he could hold the ingredients in it, but he didn't know how he would get them in the pouch.

Then he thought of something. It wasn't the most appealing idea, but he couldn't think of any other way to pick it up. He bent down and grabbed the gritty sand in his mouth, quickly spitting it out into the pouch. It left a nasty taste in his mouth, but at least he now had a way of getting the ingredients. Repeating this new method two more times, he quickly put two more sand blocks in the pouch, mentally checking off sand in the list.

The next thing he needed was a rose petal. It was fairly easy to find one after a bit of walking around; flowers were quite common during this time of year. Once he found a particularly large one (he figured it was safer to bring a large, healthy one than a smaller, wilted one), he picked it up in his mouth and put it in the pouch with a small hiss, forgetting that roses had spiked thorns on their stems.

Two of the three remaining ingredients had to be harvested from hostiles, so DC decided he would deal with them last. That left two brown mushroom stems. Where would he find mushrooms? They usually spawned in shady areas, normally under trees or in a cave. He didn't want to risk exploring a hostile-filled cave for them, so he was left with the only other option of looking under some trees. The problem was, the only trees he could see were located on top of the mountain they had made their shelter in. He'd have to scale it. Creepers weren't exceptionally skilled in that area.

But he needed to do it - for Steve.

He studied the mountain, looking for the best point to start. Deciding that the side to the right of the shelter appeared to be less steep, he began his ascent from there, never looking down; he wasn't too fond of heights. He inched upward at a steady pace, making sure none of his four feet would slip and make him plummet to his death.

At last, the top of the mountain came into view. He hopped up to the summit and began the hunt for mushrooms. There was a multitude of trees around, so he figured it wouldn't be too difficult.

He was right; there was a cluster of four within two minutes of searching. He gathered the entire bunch, just in case.

Now came the tricky part - getting a bone from a skeleton and string from a spider. How would he go about collecting them? He couldn't think of any other way besides confronting the hostiles themselves, and that seemed a little reckless, considering the fact that he was at a major disadvantage here.

His thoughts were interrupted by an all-too-familiar sound, like a group of bones grinding against one another. He felt an arrow just barely whiz by his head, connecting with a tree trunk behind him.

Well, he found a skeleton.

He whirled around to face his attacker, dodging another arrow in the process. Then he heard a hiss. Oh, not now, he thought, glancing over his shoulder at the spider in the tree. I'm surrounded!

The skeleton saw its chance and shot another arrow. DC quickly ducked, and the spider behind him screeched in agony as the arrow stabbed through its eye. In a sudden rage fueled by pain, it forgot all about DC and set its sights on the skeleton instead. The two hostiles lunged at each other and began to duel, but the skeleton defeated its opponent with ease, leaving nothing behind but a single piece of string. Satisfied with its victory, it turned back to DC, who had sneakily picked up the string when it wasn't looking.

Without anything to defend himself with, DC had no choice but to dash for the shelter. He hurried down the side of the mountain, half-running and half-sliding to evade the enemy.

Something white flashed in front of his eyes; apparently the skeleton hadn't been so lucky with his footing and slipped. He sighed with relief and collected a bone from its remains when he reached the ground. Double checking to make sure he had everything that had been asked for, he hurried to the shelter with his collection.

When he safely made it inside, Steve blocked the entrance once again. "You made it," he said, the surprise obvious in his raspy voice. "Well done." He relieved DC of the pouch and peered inside. "You got everything, too; I already made a furnace, so I'll go ahead and get started."

He began by smelting the sand into glass; while it was still warm but cool enough to touch, he molded it into a crude jar with shaky hands and set it aside to fully solidify. After waiting for about three minutes, he took the newly-made jar and set it on top of the furnace, allowing it to heat slightly. Next, he took the bone from the skeleton and crushed it under his foot until there was a small pile of clean, white powder in its place; he scooped this up and placed it in the jar, careful to get every last bit.

Once the bone meal had reached boiling point, it slowly morphed into a bubbling liquid, becoming the base for the potion. He quickly poured in the remaining ingredients - first the string, then the mushroom stems, and finally the rose petal. Lastly, he picked up the jar and gently shook it until he was certain everything had mixed together; the potion turned a deep red in color from the rose petal.

He swallowed, hoping he hadn't made a mistake. "Better drink it while it's still hot," he muttered to no one in particular. In one great swig, he chugged the entire antidote and made a face; it tasted disgusting.

DC was, again, amazed at his skills. "How did you learn all of that?" he asked in awe.

"Trial and error," was his short response. He yawned and returned to his corner, exhausted merely from that simple task. "DC?" he mumbled groggily.

"Yes?"

"…Thank you." He said nothing else before drifting into a deep sleep.

DC kept watch until morning, making sure nothing broke in to the shelter while Steve slept. Those words resonated within his mind like a chiming of many bells, filling his heart with more warmth than he had ever felt before.

Thank you.