Chapter Text
A world is a precious thing.
It must be protected.
A world is a precious thing.
It must be treasured.
A world is a precious thing.
It can be destroyed.
That's okay. We can get another one, and it'll be better, and it'll be bigger, and we can have more fun with it. The trees might be the same, or maybe there will be more colours. The leaves will be in your favourite colour this time, and we could build bigger and better things!
Maybe this time, the science and the magic don't have to fight. You would like that, wouldn't you?
A world is a precious thing.
Maybe we don't have to destroy it.
Nah.
Panting, gasping, Zoeya runs. Her legs burn, not with the comforting fire of the Nether but the ferocious pain of exhaustion. She stumbles, she coughs and with her robotic arm she grasps for the presence of her dinosaur friend.
She falls, and sharp claws dig into her back. Teep pulls her back up in a rough motion and they set off again.
Through spindly branches and ragged leaves, they run, as they did so very long ago.
It hurts to run.
It hurts even more to run from-
And then, suddenly, Zoeya finds her thoughts interrupted by a terrible, shrieking wail.