Chapter Text
The Nether was a warm place, far too warm for any beings of the Overworld. Its radiating heat made it hard for anyone to travel through the lava filled lands, and the netherrack was burning under boots and paws. If anyone dared to go through the Nether barefoot, the burns would not be merciful.
Lava pools around him, rushing down to the rest of it under the broken lands of netherrack and blackstone. The ground under his toes burns him, and each step sends pain all through his small body. The heat was not helping, causing him to lose his breath even faster.
Loose black feathers fly around as the child runs, wide and glossy eyes turning side to side to make sure no other being was near. Shouts are heard behind him and it urges him to beat his legs faster against the netherrack, against the burns it gives him, against the fear.
He’s scared. He’s terrified.
More shouts are heard, and he is sure he’ll be caught soon. His mind was racing, thoughts battling between each other. The fog of fear in his head clouds over any rational thought he could have and the only thing he wants is to rest for one second.
He’s not aware of how long he’s been running for, if anything, it seems like he’s run his entire life. It was scary to think about.
Far behind him, the men try their best to catch up to him. Some shout how the child is getting away, how it will get harder to find him if they lose him through all this lava and netherrack. The piglin brutes around don’t make it easier for them, as they need to take them down before continuing their race.
The leader speeds ahead, before stopping once he spots the small kid running down the hill they just climbed. With his crossbow out and a dark smile over his face, he lifts the weapon, aims then fires. The arrow flies fast, cutting through the air and going straight for the child.
When the arrow hits the ground near his feet, the kid yelps, staggering forward and nearly falling over on the ground. He catches himself with his hands, tears pricking at his lashes when he feels the netherrack heat up under his skin, and he barely has any time to pick himself up to run again before another arrow lands where he was mere seconds ago.
He’s crying now, tears dripping down his dirty face as he keeps dashing. He can’t be caught again, he can’t. He doesn’t want to be caught. The pathetic excuse of a shirt over his shoulders is torn, large holes having been ripped through it in certain spots and his shorts are dirty with mud and grime.
A voice calls to him, cold and unsettling words being spoken to him with scary softness. He’s being told to surrender, to stop running and come back, that they only want to play with him.
The kid remembers the last game they’ve played. His hair had been yanked, strands being yanked out of his sensitive scalp and leaving nothing but a painful memory on his head. Some feathers had been forcefully plucked, his limbs had been hit multiple times and his limits had been tested everyday.
He hears the leader call out to him again and a whine escapes past his dry lips. The appendages behind him ache and he’s certain to no longer be able to handle the heat soon.
Yet another arrow flies past him, so he takes a different turn and finds himself in a clear space of netherrack. There is no place for him to hide and the brutes roaming around prevents him from running further. The sight makes him stop abruptly, nearly tripping over himself and planting face first on the ground.
He pants, dry wheezes coming out of his throat as his chest heaves. The men are far behind, and although he knows he is no longer under their sight, it doesn’t stop the anxiety bubbling inside him.
He’s so scared, no longer knowing what to do. He looks around, desperately trying to find a way to escape, but nothing meets his tears filled eyes.
Behind him, his name is called and he feels a shiver up his spine.
The child takes a few steps forward, sniffling as he keeps looking around. There has to be a way out.
His mind is racing again and he can hear his heart thump inside his heaving chest.
A brute’s ear twitches, and he looks around. The child stops in his tracks, looking at the mob with wide eyes. He knows it senses his presence, and it is not happy.
Slowly, he takes a step back, even if the voices behind him get louder. He’s surrounded, and he knows he will die if he stays here. His feathers are useless, his body aching and weak. He’ll be killed because he wasn’t enough. He wasn’t strong enough.
He takes another step back as he watches the brute take out its sword with a snarl.
He could’ve made it out, but he didn’t. He has failed himself and his entire future. He cries quietly as he takes another step.
The leader calls out to him, but his mind can’t seem to register it, eyes focused on the beast and thoughts getting faster.
He’s failed. He’ll be killed because of how weak he was.
The thought makes his heart ache and he chokes in a sob as he walks back some more.
He failed.
He failed himself.
He failed whoever had been his family.
He failed―
And he falls.
The kid falls with a high pitched yelp, only to be cut off with a cry when his back meets a hard surface. He doesn’t see as the brutes all turn towards the noise, but remain calm as the source of whatever had made that noise is nowhere to be seen.
When he realizes where he is, he stills and lets out nothing, quietly breathing as he’s engulfed in darkness. He’s fallen into a hole apparently.
Just as he’s about to move, he becomes dead stiff when he hears the men approach, shouting at each other to get rid of the brutes and continue their search.
He stays in the hole, shifting slightly to curl into himself deeper in the small space. He stifles a whimper when he hears people walk over his hiding spot and his body shudders when the scary noises of weapons being pulled out reach his ears. The feathers subconsciously wrap around him as they get louder, screaming and cursing as they realize they’ve lost him.
He just barely registers when he hears one of them tell the others to retreat, that they’ll come back the next day, and it becomes quiet for a moment. There’s nothing but the sound of running lava and piglins nearby.
The kid nearly moves, nearly shifts to get out, until a voice cuts through and he freezes.
“We’ll find you. I swear, we’ll find you.” He hears the leader snarl and footstep follow his warning, his threat.
Seconds pass and the silence returns. When he’s sure to be alone, he weeps quietly, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks as he curls into himself even more to try and find any comfort.
It’s so hot in here. It’s suffocating, causing his throat to become dryer and tighten. He coughs once, twice and he whines as he wishes to get out.
After running for so long, his body remains on the ground, curled in the hole he fell into and doesn’t move. His limbs hurt, from the sprinting, the beating and the trauma. His wings are dirty, feathers broken and messy, unkempt and it’s uncomfortable.
Everything comes at the same time; the fatigue, the pain, the tears, the hunger, the thirst, the seek for comfort, the wish to be free and safe. He cries again, chest rising even slower with each breath.
The only thing he lets out before he lets his eyes flutter close is a broken whimper, and he lets his mind wander off into the comfort of the darkness.