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He should be here.
In the woods.
Ranboo pauses at the edge of the gravelly path, backpack on his shoulders and a torch in hand. The afternoon sun shows no mercy, beating down on him with scorching rays. Ranboo wipes sweat from his eyes, damp hair matted to his forehead.
Not many people come here, from what he’s heard. The hiking trail proves to be treacherous, fraught with dangerous animals and slippery paths. You could go tumbling down a bluff if you were not careful. Ranboo sucks in a sharp breath. He can do this. If only to bring Tubbo back…
“Hey.”
Ranboo turns to the voice. A man in a striped bucket hat called out to him. He wears hiking gear and carries a pole. Ranboo can only guess what he’s come here to do.
“I wouldn’t travel down that road if I were you, mate,” the man tuts. “Not unless you’re experienced.”
“But…” Ranboo has never hiked a day in his life, but for Tubbo’s sake…
The man hums questioningly, eyeing him with suspicion. Ranboo fidgets nervously with the strap of the backpack.
“What’s wrong?”
“My friend’s in there,” Ranboo says, “and…he’s been gone for a couple of days now.”
“Gone, you say?” The man scratches the stubble on his jaw. “Have you called the police?”
“They’re…” Ranboo glances away. “They’re useless. They won’t do anything to help.”
“Aw, don’t be like that, mate.” The man walks over and pats Ranboo’s shoulder. “Never know till you try.”
Ranboo bites his lip. Please let him go. Let him get into the woods and find Tubbo and—
The man must have noticed his apprehensive refusal. He smiles. “Well, I won’t stop you if this is what you want to do. Just…stay safe, alright? Turn back at the first sign of trouble.”
Ranboo nods. He thanks the man quietly, and the man heads back to his car, whistling as he goes. Ranboo approaches the woods, feet crunching gravel with each trudge.
The plan is simple. He’d go in, find Tubbo, and come right back out. That’s all there is to it.
Nothing to it at all.
*
The path seems to stretch on forever. A flowing stream runs beside it, a mysterious sort of tranquillity in its constant trickles. Beetles dart among the broad leaves of ferns, and the chirp of cicadas fills Ranboo’s ears. The overhanging canopies provide relieving shade, home to all sorts of avian creatures and arthropods.
After walking for what feels like an hour, Ranboo spies something glinting in nature’s light. He jogs over to it, dropping to a squat and gathering it up in his hands. It gleams with a shining gold, tarnished with mud and rust. Tubbo’s locket! It was probably washed downstream, and that means that…
Ranboo’s gaze follows the direction of the river. It probably means that Tubbo…he’s on the right track. He just needs to keep going.
Ranboo stuffs the locket into his pocket, tucking the chain into its recesses, and continues on his way. So long as he continues walking, he’d bump into Tubbo eventually. He has to hurry.
Who knows what might have happened to Tubbo in this damned place?
*
Green.
All Ranboo sees is green.
The plants start blending together, forming a blanket of lush undergrowth so thick that Ranboo can hardly see past it. He walked for quite a while now, and yet the path shows no signs of ending.
Ranboo cups his mouth, musters his strength, and shouts.
“Tubbo!”
His voice echoes back at him. Several scared robins dart away, taking to the skies. Ranboo glances about. If Tubbo is here, then he would have heard him, right? If no one approaches, then that means…
A sudden growl has Ranboo snapping his head in the direction of the sound. Leaves rustle as a shape, a humanoid being, crawls out from the thicket. Ranboo yelps, staggering back into rough bark. The creature watches him from where it lies, mouthless face groaning unintelligibly, gnarled claws grabbing at him…
“Ggggggggggggg…owwwwwwww…”
Ranboo has to run. Now.
Stifling a holler, Ranboo takes off down the path. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, grinding pebbles and rocks with every step. Is the creature chasing him? Is it gaining on him?
Oh God, Ranboo doesn’t know.
It is only after a minute of sprinting that Ranboo dares throw a glance back, only to see thin air. Whatever that monster was, it gave up the chase. His flesh probably doesn’t taste too good, in his unbiased opinion.
Ranboo grasps the trunk of a nearby tree, the other hand wrapped around his kneecap as he catches his breath. What in the world was that? Like an otherworldly being that crawled out of some nightmarish hellhole, that’s what it is.
It isn’t an animal, that’s for sure.
Could something like that have gotten to Tubbo? If so, then…
Ranboo has to hurry.
He plods off down the path, going as fast as his sore soles let him. Anything to put some distance between himself and that beast.
*
No longer can Ranboo hear the roar of cars along the road. He must be deeper in the woods than he thought. He kept to the trail the whole time, a grey path carved through the tufts of tall grass. At least he can still see the gentle stream, the bed riddled with glossy pebbles.
Bland scenery aside, there is still no sign of Tubbo.
If he turns back now, he’d only run back into that strange thing again. He should stay on the path and—
“Hello.”
Ranboo jolts at the voice, spinning on his heels and coming face to face with a pig. Not quite a pig, but rather a man. A man with a pig’s head and wearing a tuxedo of sorts. What in the world…?
“Stay back! I-I have a knife!” Ranboo reaches for the weapon by his belt, one he’d forgotten during the surprise encounter with that menace earlier.
The Pigman merely gives the knife a bemused look, before his gaze snaps back to meet Ranboo’s.
“That’s cute.”
A sliver of ice runs through Ranboo’s body, shooting up his spine. He trembles where he stands, fear curling around his body like tendrils of smoke. He should run. Now. But…
“Relax. I’m only an observer in this forest.”
Yeah, like this guy expects Ranboo to trust him.
“Well, it’s up to you if you want to believe me or not. There’s nothing I can say to make you.”
He has got a good point. Judging from his casual stance, his empty hands, Ranboo can afford to let his guard down. Just a teensy bit.
“You say you’re an…observer,” Ranboo says. “Have you seen a boy called Tubbo wandering around?”
The Pigman hums. “I can’t say. Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn’t.”
Vague answers. Great. Ranboo’s just going to waste his time talking to this man, animal…whatever he is. He turns his back on the Pigman, the latter making no move to injure him.
“If I were to impart some wisdom,” the Pigman begins. Ranboo can feel his eyes boring holes into the back of his head. “Don’t stop moving if you want to get out of here.”
“They? Who’s they? That guy who kept mumbling and—”
The Pigman chuckles. Both amused and knowing. “No, not them. They’re the Murmurer. They’re harmless; they’d never attack you. They’re not the one you should be looking out for.”
How…sinister.
“Best be on your way now, young one.”
When Ranboo chances a glance back, the Pigman is gone. Ranboo rubs at his eye. Did he just imagine that? Is he going delirious in the heat of the sun?
Delirious or not, aching heels or scratched-up arms, he has to keep going. He was the one who made a mistake. He was the one who started that argument, that made Tubbo run out like that into the woods.
He has to find Tubbo and apologize. Beg for his forgiveness if he has to.
Because Tubbo’s his only friend in this world. Tubbo is his life.
*
Don’t stop moving.
That was the Pigman’s advice. Did Ranboo make him up? Most likely, but for some reason, those words ring in his head. Spoken in the same, smooth baritone of that accursed Pigman.
Ranboo has no idea how long he’s been walking. How long he’s been wading through the dense bushes, chasing the narrow stream. He shouted Tubbo’s name till his throat went hoarse, and Tubbo never once answered.
This was all his fault.
Tubbo ran off because of him.
If only he never…
A hint of silver has Ranboo glancing over. A small device lies half-submerged in the water, resting against a bed of pebbles. Ranboo winces, needles of pain stabbing his feet with each step, as he wanders over, kneeling by the water and picking it up.
He recognizes this phone anywhere, what with that Enderman strap. It matches Ranboo’s goat one, a symbol of their friendship. If Tubbo’s phone is here…
He must be even farther upstream than Ranboo thought, but at least Ranboo knows he’s still got the scent. Like a bloodhound.
With renewed determination, Ranboo picks up the pace. He’s got to keep moving. He wouldn’t want to know what happens otherwise.
*
Has it been hours? Or days?
Why is the sun still so high in the sky, burning him with this sweltering heat? His stomach growls. He satiates it with several gulps from his bottle, tipping the last few drops down his throat.
That’s the last of his water. Ranboo glances towards the stream, visible through the gaps in the leaves. He should get to refilling his bottle. Water in a place like this is probably not the cleanest, but it’s better than dying of dehydration out here.
And with how hot the sun is…
Ranboo fishes his phone from his pocket, unsurprised to see the no-signal symbol on the top right of his screen. Of course, he won’t have signal all the way out here…not that there’s anyone he can contact anyway.
What really shocks him is the time displayed in bold and glaring white.
13:04.
He walked into the forest around that time, he believed. Parked his car around twelve-fifty. Between getting out, psyching himself up and talking to that hiker…It should be…
This can’t be.
A faint rustling has Ranboo jumping out of his skin, another lance of fear arrowing through him when he sees something emerging from the undergrowth. He sighs in quiet relief when he comes face-to-face with the same creature from before. What the Pigman called the Murmurer.
The Murmurer looks at him. At least, Ranboo thinks they are.
“Ggggggggggg…owwwwwwww…”
Ow? Are they in pain?
“Ohhhhhhhh…Harrrrrrrrrr….”
Oh? Har? Ranboo hates to break it to the guy, but he cannot make heads or tails of their speech. Still, at least this guy isn’t spouting their own brand of cryptic monologue. That makes them somewhat more bearable than the Pigman.
Though, his appearance leaves something to be desired.
“Hey there.”
The Murmurer, just as the Pigman said, does not attack. Instead, they remain motionless. Staring. A chill travels down Ranboo’s spine.
“Nice day we’re having here, aren’t we?” Ranboo chuckles unsurely. “How’re you doing?”
Silence.
“Have you seen someone called Tubbo around these parts?”
More staring.
“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you, then.” Ranboo smiles, raising his canteen. “Goodbye.”
With that, Ranboo leaves the Murmurer behind, and they do nothing to pursue him.
Could the Pigman be speaking truth after all?
*
That log looks incredibly inviting. But he mustn’t stop, not when great misfortune could befall him if he disregards the Pigman’s advice. Ranboo’s feet ache, and his stomach is emptier than ever. Still, he treads the path, the sibling of the stream that would deliver Ranboo to Tubbo.
Must let Tubbo know how sorry he is. Before he expires in this eldritch forest. He has to find Tubbo, before either of them succumbs to the elements. It’s the least he can do to make up for his mistakes.
All of a sudden, Ranboo’s foot catches on a root, and he goes tumbling. He smashes his chin against the hard gravel, cutting his knees and shins. He hisses, letting the pain run its swift course, before attempting to get back on his feet.
But his body disobeys. Ranboo crashes back to the ground, breaths hard, another wave of pain washing over him like a harbour wave. He glances back at his foot, where the pain seems to pulse from like an insistent heartbeat.
Did he twist his ankle? Or sprain it?
Oh no.
No, no, no, no.
This is bad. This is terrible. How is he…?
Ranboo pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind. The moment he starts thinking like that is the moment he’ll surrender both his life and Tubbo’s. He has to get up. He has to keep moving.
“Well now. Looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle.”
Ranboo lifts his head at the voice. The Pigman looms over him, ebony shadow long though the sun is right above their heads.
“Are you having fun?” Ranboo mutters. Watching him stumble. Watching his desperate attempts to navigate the forest. To find his friend. “Is this all a game to you?”
“Like I said, I’m only an observer,” the Pigman says. “I only…watch.”
“Do you know where Tubbo is?”
“How can I not? Everything that goes on in this forest is seen by me.”
Everything? In this illogical Hell on earth?
“Then where is he? Tell me!”
The Pigman laughs. Breathily. “You remind me of salmon.”
Salmon? What is he getting at here? “Just tell me already!”
The Pigman ignores his outburst. “Adult salmon only have one goal—to reach the place where they spawned. When the time is right, they’ll pursue this goal with utmost ferocity.”
“I don’t care!”
“Yeah, they didn’t care either. Not about throwing themselves into the jaws of bears as they swum to their birthplace. It’s something natural for them.”
“Just tell me where he is!”
Ranboo drags himself to his feet, hobbling over to the Pigman and grasping the front of his shirt. The Pigman hardly budges as Ranboo shakes him with the last ounces of his strength.
“And during this journey, their bodies begin to change. Into something they themselves can fathom.” The Pigman chortles at that. “Then again, they’re salmon. They don’t exactly have the ability to think like that.”
Ranboo drops to his knees, claws against his temple, utterly exhausted. He curses his circumstance. Curses everything that led him to this forest. Meeting Tubbo. Becoming friends with Tubbo. Following Tubbo around. That argument between himself and Tubbo.
Tubbo.
It all traces back to him. But Ranboo cannot bring himself to hate Tubbo.
Tubbo is his only friend. His best friend.
“Do you want to go home?”
Ranboo looks up at the Pigman, who wears that serene smile that Ranboo wants to slap from his face.
“I…” Ranboo lowers his gaze. I’m sorry, Tubbo. “I want to—"
“Well, not like it matters,” the Pigman interrupts, turning around. “You’ve already set yourself on this path. Not like you can get out even if you wanted to.”
Those words slam into Ranboo like a truck. “What does that mean?”
“I mean that you won’t leave even if you wanted to, because you don’t actually want to.”
“What do you mean?” Ranboo repeats. “I want to leave, and I will! I will leave! Just watch me!”
“Of course.” The Pigman nods. “Have you forgotten? I’m the observer. I’m always watching.”
Ranboo wraps his arms around his middle. He isn’t sure where the tears are coming from. Exhaustion, perhaps? Frustration?
Despair?
“Besides, who said you did any of this of your own accord?”
Ranboo ignores the Pigman and his wry words. He limps down the path, dragging his lame leg behind him. His damned twisted ankle.
He will show the Pigman. He’ll prove that he can make it out of here alive, with or without Tubbo.
As if giving up the search would be that easy.
*
Ranboo’s throat is parched. His stomach is gnawing at his insides, utterly devoid of food for the past…several hours or so. How long has he been wandering this forest, with no end nor Tubbo in sight?
Who said you did any of this of your own accord?
The Pigman’s words echo in Ranboo’s ears. He shakes his head, as if physically doing it, with enough vim and vigour would rid him of that condescending tone.
Ranboo leans against a tree, a hand on the bark, panting. His entire body is drenched with sweat, the black of his skin sizzling with every drop of perspiration, but Ranboo cannot quite feel it amidst the rush of adrenaline.
With every step, he’s closer to Tubbo. With every…step…
Then, when he rounds the corner, Ranboo sees him. A figure emerges from behind a copse of trees, brushing away deciduous leaves with a swipe of his arm. Ranboo would recognize that physique anywhere, that face anywhere.
“Tubbo!”
In his excitement, Ranboo completely forgets about his twisted ankle, landing wrong on his foot. Plants his face into the ground, spraying up a cloud of gravel and rocks. He splutters and wheezes, propping himself up on his elbows. Tubbo approaches him, arms folded.
“Hey, Ranboo.”
Ranboo could cry tears of joy right now. He stands, making a grab for Tubbo’s wrist, only for his friend to slap him away. Stunned, Ranboo’s mouth falls open, a strange sound emitted from his throat. Somewhere between a whine and a growl.
“Tubbo? What are you doing? Come on, we have to get out of here!”
Tubbo folds his arms, lifting his head to look at Ranboo. Has Tubbo always been this short?
“Sorry, Boo, but I can’t understand you anymore.”
What does that mean?
“What are you saying, Tubbo? Why—”
Ranboo hardly registers the slim blade of silver slicing into his shoulder. Blood bursts from the wound, staining his shirt a dark violet. Ranboo falls again, heart aflutter from shock and hurt.
Everything happened too fast for him to make sense of it.
“I’ve waited so long for this day, Ranboo.” Tubbo squats by Ranboo’s head, pinning him with an unreadable gaze. “You’ve been very cooperative.”
He’s been what?
Tubbo lifts his head and calls out to the nothingness that is the forest. “Is the witness here?”
The witness? Who’s the witness?
“Present.”
The familiar tap of hooves against pebbles has Ranboo glaring up at the Pigman. He wears a smile no less serene than the last time he saw him.
“If only you could look at yourself now, boss man,” Tubbo coos, almost like a hunter playing with their prey. Ranboo struggles to sit up, only for Tubbo to press the knife against his jugular.
“Please!” Ranboo cries to the Pigman, breaths shaky. “Please don’t let him kill me! Please! I beg you!”
The Pigman laughs. “Unfortunately for you, the observer can’t interfere. I can only watch.”
No! No, no, no, no! What is happening? Why is Ranboo…? The blade cuts into his neck, drawing a leaking gash.
“Under the eyes of the witness, I shall purge the world of—”
The last Ranboo remembers is the stab of betrayal deep in his heart. And Tubbo’s ringing voice, like the incessant chime of church bells, in his ears. He does not even hear Tubbo’s last words, before he loses all consciousness.
For good.