It took half of the day to work all the dirt out, and by that time they were in a part of the woods where the ground rose and fell sharply, sometimes forming short moss-covered cliffs. In the low places they sank over their ankles in a soft carpet of leaves. Their walking made a constant crashing in the brittle carpet. They worked their way up to high ground, where it was easier to move, but before long found themselves on a ridge with rough ground to their left and a stone wall to their right. "So this is where the old wall starts," said Herobrine. "Huh. Good to know." Steve said nothing. They hadn't come to Lost Pine exactly this way before. Herobrine had guessed that it would take less time to cut across here, but between Steve's slow pace and the significant possibility that they were getting lost, it was starting to look like a bad decision—especially since they'd been counting on reaching Lost Pine before night, so that they could clear out a house and barricade themselves in it for the night if necessary. This was a rather foolhardy decision, and it would be as good as suicide if they were caught by darkness at the edge of an infested town. "Come on," said Herobrine, looking at Steve. "You said you weren't really hurt."
"I'm not, it's just stiff." Steve was trying not to lean on the staff any more than necessary. He didn't trust it. They came to the top of a rise and Herobrine threw his bag down with a disgusted noise. Up ahead, the wall stood flush with the edge of the tallest and steepest cliff yet.
"Fun. I guess we're heading down." Steve nodded, looking along the slope next to them.
"This looks good." he inched onto the slope and let himself slide in a shower of leaves to an even place, stopping himself with a foot on a large dead branch. He pulled himself up with the staff and inched along the branch, looking for an easy way down to level ground. Finding some rocks he tested them and then gingerly stepped onto them and started down. Herobrine slid down behind him.
"Careful, those look loose."
"Everything's loose," said Steve, wavering as he set off another leaf-and-dirt avalanche. He tapped the next rock with the staff. "Safe?" nothing. "You better not be playing with me." he stepped on the rock. It promptly flipped over, depositing all of his weight on his hurt foot.
Herobrine watched him slide downhill with a sense of inevitability.
He waited for rocks and leaves to quit sliding before he followed, half-running half-crouching, not giving the ground time to slip under him. Steve sat up and shook leaves out of his hair. "Why did I somehow expect that? And are you alright?"
"Yeah. Uh—" Steve looked around suspiciously. The staff had disappeared. They started hunting through the deep, loose leaves. After a few minutes Herobrine was cursing under his breath. They had turned up a few potsherds, a rusty piece of unidentifiable weaponry, and a glass bead. "Ooh. This would look nice in your hair."
"Knock it off, Steve."
"It would."
"Maybe later, when we're not about to die!"
"Calm down."
"Why? It's getting late, we don't know where we're staying tonight, and we can't leave without the damned thing because it's dangerous! I'm not going to leave it by itself out here for a witch to pick up!" Steve froze, blinking.
"Hey."
"What?" Steve straightened up, stretched his neck, and started walking away.
"This is dumb. Let's just leave it."
"What? No, we can't. It's dangerous and I want to figure out—"
"We're leaving it!" shouted Steve over his shoulder. "I'm sick and tired of the thing. It's weird, it's creepy, and I get the feeling that it's trying to get us killed. You can stay here alone all day digging through the leaves if you want but I am—" he tripped on a buried object and fell with his face in the leaves. "Leaving." he reached back and grabbed the object lodged against his foot. "There you are." Herobrine gaped. Steve pulled himself up with the staff and gave it a tap against the forest floor. "I don't like your sense of humor."
"What… what just…"
"It knew we weren't going to leave it, so it decided to be silly about it. Listen, you, we're a bit pressed for time. Stop it or I really will leave you." Steve looked back. "Are you coming? The sun's getting low."
"…Yeah." maybe the staff had had some sense about its preferred handler. Steve seemed to know how to manage it. But the longer they kept the thing, the more it disturbed Herobrine. He didn't care how magical it was, a piece of wood simply couldn't act like that.
Not that the staff cared what he thought.
A/N: So I'm finally writing again. The past few days I've planned on it and then invariably ended up on YouTube instead… I am terrible.
Also the vanitas theme is going nowhere in the last few chapters and I feel stupid for mentioning it when I did. Sorry. I do have plans for that.