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Pon had wandered farther than he meant to this time, but that wasn’t an issue nor out of the ordinary. The cave he found went on much further than he had anticipated in his guessings when he had mentally noted its location on another wandering.
His iron boots crunched over dirt and grass, sometimes breaking a stray stick or splitting a small falling of leaves. Crunches and snaps, the grind of stones on metal and leather straps catching dead leaves made the backing track of his walk back home.
The amber and golden rays of the setting sun trickled through the parts of the forest’s short canopy, the leaf-dense branches making the space feel darker than what it actually was. The rustle of the leaves in the evening breeze occupied Pon’s mind, right along with his findings of the adventures of a cave system only a couple chunks away from home.
He thought of the several stacks of raw copper and iron he got, as well as a handful of diamonds and a decent haul of redstone. Pon’s mind wandered around the different wiring he looked forward to working on, especially the hidden piston door to his enchantment room. The redstone he mined should be enough to complete it.
A smile spread across his strong face as he thought about it, his pine green eyes almost looking up into his mind as if to better visualize his plans, rolling over the leaves that swayed in the breeze above him.
Halfway home and the setting sun licked at the mountain line, scattering its light along the horizon and catching the rigid, jagged rocks of the range. As much as Pon loved to wander the edges of his base at night, he knew the dark wasn’t his friend. Birthing horrid and foul beasts from thin air, Pon could hold his own but it was difficult to when the frightful things of the night surrounded all sides of him.
His feet picked up pace, his legs carrying him faster than they did just a moment ago but still unhurried and relaxed; Pon knew where he was and he knew he would grace the handle of his front door soon.
He thought of home, the heat of the fireplace and the comfort of his kitchen table when it had a meal ready. The thought of eating a hot dinner after wandering around such a frigid cave pricked at Pon’s feet and stomach, quickening his steps and making his mouth water. He could smell the rich and deep scents of the broth of stew with rabbit meat, carrots, and potatoes with the root of allium. A loaf of bread and some butter to boot made his stomach grumble, and he walked with more intention upon this thought entering his mind.
A soft hiss trickled into his attention followed immediately by a blinding burst of white hot light. A deafeningly high pitched tone assaulted his ears as he felt his weight hit the ground at a breakneck speed. Pon felt like the grass was holding him to the ground as he struggled to get up and move, his weight buckling beneath him as he tried to lift himself from the ground. His head and vision were spinning a million miles an hour, and his head felt like it was being split down the middle. The retched ringing pulled at his ears from every direction, confusion having a firm grip upon him.
Then came the pain. By Notch’s Hand the pain. It ripped across the right side of his face, through his arm and hand, and down through his body and leg. The same leg that kept buckling beneath him as he struggled to stand, wanting to run from what just happened in a frenzied animalistic panic.
Everything had quickly slowed to a crawl. The leaves falling, every movement he made, every huge gasp of breath he took, Pon needed to get home. Now.
Amidst his terror, Pon knew the sunlight was quickly abandoning the world for the day and he would have to encounter more things that likely would do more damage to him, or worse. What could hardly be described as a scream tore from his throat in a jagged and horrid sound, as he pushed with everything left of him to drag himself across the cold earth of the forest.
He thrust his body up from the ground in a staggered motion, his gait uneven and pained. Pon could feel his right leg dragging behind him, its steps sending a drowning wave of agony through him with each step.
Pon’s vision spun in huge, nauseating circles and it caught streaks of warm, familiar but distant light that Pon was certain came from his base. Through the shock and terror that riddled his mind and body, Pon guessed that he was still maybe two or three chunks away. The light of the torches and lanterns outshone the dusk’s glow, and a fresh dose of fear riddled Pon’s body.
Another wail was ripped from Pon’s mouth as he fought with his damaged body to move faster. A small shelf in the terrain caught his foot, sending his body hurdling towards the ground. His head landed hard on the dirt, worsening the ringing that already assaulted his incredibly overwhelmed senses. Pon spat up a groan and he pushed himself up from the ground once more, commanding his legs to move.
Every step was torturous agony, every breath that entered and left his lungs pulled at his eyes, and every rotation of his eyes made him feel like he was going to throw up.
Pon wanted to cry, scream, anything to make himself feel like he was at least any semblance of okay. The release of any kind of sound surely would help him feel better; it was as though he had no control over what sounds he made as nothing came from him as he fought to choke out something, anything. Tears that he didn’t command rolled down his face, and he felt for a split moment that the water flowed heavily from his left eye, but not as much on his right.
One chunk more.
Pon could see the spruce of his base, the smell of the smoke that rolled upwards from his chimney, the bleats and baes of from sheep and cattle.
Another horribly pained cry fell from his throat as he continued to drag his body across the land, his body that felt like it was made of the densest obsidian he had ever held.
It felt like hours had passed between Pon being at the edge of his base and his front door, and he reached for the copper knob. His hand slipped and missed the brass handle as he lifted and reattempted the grip, only contacting after a few times of missing it. His weight fell into the door, his body landing hard on the wood inside. The door bounced from the hinges, closing itself.
The shock had mostly worn off now that he laid still on his floor, and the full extent of the pain clouded and caked every thought, every nerve, every inch of skin he had. An all consuming suffering.
His heart rapped against his ribcage, his lungs pulling in massive heaves of breath, and his vision continued to circle as the room spun around him. As his mouth greedily pulled at the air, he could feel the chill of air inside of his jaw coming from an angle he had never felt before. His weight pinned to the ground, Pon forced his shaking left arm up to his face, his hand touching the ragged raw flesh that left a significant section of his jaw exposed.
Horror flooded his mind all over again as he pulled his hand away from his face as if he had touched a hot coal. His mind snapped to his vision, Pon noticed it was like he could only see from one eye. His vision split in half, only adding to the sickening disorientation. He waved his uninjured hand in front of his right eye—nothing. Not darkness, not fuzziness, nothing. He saw nothing from that eye anymore.
Pon didn’t know how or why, but he couldn’t see from his eye. A new realization struck him; if his eye was bad, what else? How could this horrific incident only get worse?
His remaining sight ran down his body, his eye catching the ruined, charred skin of his frame. Disgustingly huge welts and blisters twisted and pulled at his skin, curling the flesh into sickening swirls of bleeding raw meat. His eye lapped up the horrific sight as his hand caught his attention; his ring and pinky finger were no longer whole. The explosion took his pinky, and a portion of his ring finger, his outer two joints gone. Those fingers were eaten down to jagged stumps, ending in burnt flesh.
Pon couldn’t be sure how extensive these wounds were, and he couldn’t care in this moment. Pain, terror, and heavy realizations overwhelmed every synapse, every neuron, every thought in his mind.
He felt as though he was dying. He needed a potion of healing and fast. He didn’t want to have to respawn, but he didn’t want to live either. He couldn’t say that the pain would be gone if he did respawn, but he knew he didn’t want to endure the unique disorientation and pain respawning caused.
Pon’s good hand and leg worked in tandem to push and pull him across the wooden floor, his nails leaving scratches in the planks as he approached a chest, fishing blindly around for a potion; any potion at this point.
Rough fingers wrapped around a cool glass neck, the edge of his palm just barely catching the round of the bottle.
With incredible speed he pulled the head of the glass to his mouth, biting and tearing the cork from the lip and pouring the elixir into mouth as quickly as gravity would allow. The liquid made it down his throat, though most of it fell from the huge hole in his ruined cheek, landing on the floor next to him.
The potion helped, but only enough for Pon to heave himself up into a sitting position. The pain of the explosion continued to assault his body, but not as bad as it did before. Pon could hardly get his thoughts to slow, but 3 words flooded his brain.
Edit. Where’s Edit?
It’s like Pon had completely abandoned his personality and disposition as he begged the world for someone; anyone, to come help him. He continued to breathe hard into the room he sat in, more heavy tears rolling down one side of his face.
He remembered that Edit was a couple thousand blocks away exploring who knows what, and wouldn’t be back for several more moons.
He was alone.
The healing potion allowed Pon just enough relief and clarity for him to dig in his chest further, retrieving a second and third potion; health and regeneration.
Biting the cork from the bottle and tilting his head back, he poured the drinks down his throat, more potion falling from the missing chunk of his face.
The pain wasnt completely gone, but gone enough Pon could ignore it and come to his senses. He fought with himself not to think of his injuries or the explosion as he sat against the chests on the wall, soothing his breath and calming his heart.
As badly as he couldn’t wait for Edit to come back to help him, Pon didn’t want anyone to see him.
Not anymore.