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He swings once more before the tree is crashing down. Leaves rustling and branches snapping as it finally falls.
He stands up straight and rolls his neck. Then his shoulders until he hears a click.
Sighing in content, he sheaths his axe and skims his hand across the gnarly bark. The wood disappearing beneath his touch, and into his inventory.
He pinches the soft skin under his neck - opening up his inventory - and checks how much oak he has now.
Nearly a stack rests in his inventory. Only one more tree needing to be cut down to complete it.
He's sure if his muscles could speak, they'd be crying in relief for how close he was to his goal now.
Another tree and he'd be able to meet back up with the other hunters. Another tree and their base of operations would be complete. Another tree would be a step closer to killing that green bastard once and for-
A twig snaps.
The axe is equipped before he even spins round. Purple shimmering where it catches the light under the thick foliage of trees.
There's someone in the trees, but the shadows obscure his view of who they could be.
And there's only really one person they could be, couldn't there.
He tries not to let the man see how tight the grip on his axe is. Or the way his mouth has dried up - or how his gut feels like it's had a load of rotten eggs dumped in it.
"You don't scare me." He proclaims, dipping even lower to the ground incase the green bitch decides to just rush straight at him.
But he doesn't move.
Nothing feels like it's moving really. Like the whole forest is already keeping silent for when he dies out here. Alone. Like how he always keeps silent for a few minutes on Wilburs d-day.
He's not ready to die yet. Not here, not by him. Not like the guy'll let him die for long anyway.
He'll just revive him and then kill him. Over and over. Break and mash his body together until his hairs as white as snow, and every around him is dead.
But he'll still be here. Because you don't age when you die. He'll be 17 forever. Forever and ever and ever and ever
And ever alone forever never ever alone again yet still forever lonely because forever and ever and ever by his hands yet-
Another twig snaps as the figure steps forwards. His hands grow sweatier.
The grass rustles innocently as he comes forward again. His lips feel like they've been glued to one another.
A ray of sunlight hits something shiny. And... golden? He takes a step back anyway.
Beams of sunlight pours onto his face. Except it's not.
There's no white porcelain mask, chipped at the edges with a crack right to the left eye he caused himself. Instead there's a gas mask connected to a pair of wide-rimmed goggles that make the figure look like they come from some dystopian apocalypse.
And instead of an unsightly green shawl that reached down to the man's waist. There was instead a light tunic with golden armour on top - that fit snuggly into a thin brown rope with a black banner covering the bottom half of the centuar.
And there was the biggest difference of all. He had long twisted black horns accompanied with small black wings that were barely bigger than his head.
But infront of him was a creeper centuar, with thin pointed ears and skin peppered with dark green freckles.
Infront of him, was Sam.
This revelation did not cause his uneasiness to decrease in the slightest.
"Tommy?" Sam whispered, yet there was something of with his tone. Like he wasn't surprised to stumble across Tommy here in the slightest.
"Hey Awe-sam-dude. You need something?" He bitterly replied, shuffling back a bit more.
His stomach twisted as he re-gripped his sweaty axe handle. Not liking how he could feel the creepers eyes crawling all over him every time he moved.
"I uh," Sam started of, hands clasped before him as they finally made eye contact. "I see you've been hanging out with Philza recently."
"Yeah, what of it?" He snarked back, trying not to show how unsettled he was by the whole vibe going on here.
"I'm just worried for you Tommy, you. You know what he's done, right?"
"Yeah. Course I fucking do." He just, didn't like to think about it much. Besides, it wasn't Phils idea to break into Pandora, nor was it Phils negligence that let Pandora be broken into in the first place.
"He broke Dream out." Sam said like he hadn't just fucking said he knew already.
"I know Sam. I also know, that you as a Warden should of fucking tried harder. Okay? Im not stupid, or crazy."
"No. Your not crazy. How, how have you been? Has Dream tried to-?"
"Don't." He growled out, tail behind him flicking in agitation and he started to get angry.
He just needs to cut down one more tree and go back to the base. Not stand here and listen to Sam of all people worrying if he's alright.
"Tommy. I just want to make sure your safe, and that your not doing anything reckless."
"Yeah and I'm not! So fuck off and let me chop the trees in peace."
He scowled, unintentionally lowering his guard even as the Ex-Warden came closer to him. Hooves leaving slight divots in the soft grass as he walked.
"You'd know a lot about making reckless descions anyway, wouldn't you Warden?" He asked, hoping the creeper would get so frustrated he left. Or got mad back, or did anything that would break the growing tension.
"It's dangerous for you to be out here alone." Sam said instead - his body language unreadable.
"It's dangerous for anyone to be out alone." He snarked back. His back bumping into a tree and making him half twist towards it in surprise.
He didn't even realise he had still been moving backwards, or how close Sam had gotten to him. They were only a mere half block apart.
"Uh, Sam. Mind backing the fuck up?" He joked humourlessly - internally cursing himself out for being so relaxed around the madman.
He tightened the hold on his axe once more, back straightening and legs crouching slightly once more to brace for a fight.
Yet no fight was needed as he heard glass shattering beneath him, pale swirls snaking up his legs as the creeper stood back.
He dropped his axe, before his left leg followed suit. His nails trying to dig into the bark behind him - yet failing due to the awkward angle.
His head toppled forwards, muscles completely lax as he headed straight to the grassy floor.
It felt like something was peeling away his subconscious as his brain forcefully shut down. His panic and fear and stress dying away until his only worry was keeping his eyes open.
Which became an impossible task too, as the need to sleep infected his brain.
"I'll protect you." Someone said. Or maybe something? He felt himself frown, something was wrong with those words.
But that wrongness quickly fled as he finally fell into a (quite needed) sleep.