Chapter Text
Wemmbu, a five-year-old Ender Dragon hybrid, crawled weakly across the barren landscape of the End. He and his mother had been attacked, and though she had managed to get him away from their attackers, it hadn't been without a cost. An arrow remained lodged in his leg, every movement sending fresh pain through his body.
He dragged himself forward for as long as he could before collapsing onto the cold obsidian ground. His chest heaved with exhausted breaths, his limbs trembling from the effort.
Just as he gathered the strength to keep crawling, the sound of footsteps echoed ahead.
His heart lurched.
He scrambled backward, forcing himself upright despite the pain, desperately trying to put distance between himself and whoever was approaching. He was certain his mother's killers had found him.
Instead, a boy stepped into view.
He looked to be around ten years old, with jet-black hair, tanned skin, and one striking purple eye. The other eye flickered strangely, glitching in and out as though reality itself couldn't decide what it should look like.
"You," the boy said simply, tilting his head. "What are you doing out here?"
Wemmbu bit his bottom lip, fighting back tears.
"...Running," he muttered. "Bad guys."
The boy raised an eyebrow but didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he crouched down and carefully scooped Wemmbu into his arms, holding him securely against his chest.
Wemmbu immediately struggled, kicking and twisting to get free.
"Calm down," the boy said, tightening his grip just enough to keep him from falling. "I'm trying to help."
Wemmbu froze.
He didn't know whether to trust him. Every instinct screamed not to. But he was hurt, alone, and too exhausted to escape on his own.
He wasn't sure he had another choice.
The boy carried him through the silent End until they reached a glowing portal. A flash of light engulfed them.
Moments later, the cold emptiness of the End was gone.
They emerged into the Overworld, standing in front of a small, cozy cottage tucked away from the rest of the world.
_____________
A fire crackled softly in the stone fireplace, filling the room with warmth that Wemmbu hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. The smell of herbs and wood smoke lingered in the air.
Ashswag carried him over to a worn wooden table before gently setting him down.
"Don't move."
Wemmbu's ears flattened instinctively.
Ashswag disappeared into another room and returned a moment later with a small wooden box, a bowl of clean water, and a bundle of neatly wrapped bandages.
Wemmbu glanced nervously between the supplies and the boy.
"...What are you doing?"
"Fixing your leg."
Wemmbu instinctively pulled his injured leg closer to himself.
"...No.”
Ashswag paused.
"If I don't take care of it, it'll get infected."
"I don't know what that means."
"It means your leg could get a lot worse."
Wemmbu stayed silent, hugging his knees to his chest.
Ashswag sighed quietly.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
"...Everyone says that.”
The words slipped out before Wemmbu could stop them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Ashswag simply knelt in front of him, resting one arm on the table.
"I can't prove it with words," he admitted. "So I'll show you instead."
Slowly—slow enough that Wemmbu could stop him if he wanted—Ashswag reached for the arrow.
"It's going to hurt.”
Wemmbu swallowed hard before giving the smallest nod.
Ashswag snapped the exposed shaft shorter first, making it easier to remove. Then he took a steady breath.
"Ready?”
"...No."
"...Fair enough.”
Before Wemmbu could change his mind, Ashswag pulled the arrow free in one smooth motion.
Pain exploded through Wemmbu's leg.
He cried out, claws digging into the edge of the table as tears sprang to his eyes.
"It's out," Ashswag said calmly. "You're okay."
Wemmbu's breathing came in quick, uneven gasps.
Ashswag soaked a clean cloth in the bowl of warm water and gently washed away the blood around the wound. Wemmbu flinched every time the cloth brushed against his skin, but Ashswag never rushed.
"Almost done."
He spread a cool herbal paste over the puncture wound. The sting faded almost immediately, replaced by a soothing numbness.
"...Cold," Wemmbu mumbled.
"It's supposed to be.”
Ashswag wrapped the leg with fresh bandages, careful not to make them too tight. Once he finished, he tied them off neatly before leaning back to inspect his work.
"There."
Wemmbu stared at the clean white bandages wrapped around his leg.
"...That's it?"
"For now. You'll need to stay off it for a few days.”
"I... still have it?"
Ashswag blinked.
"...Your leg?"
Wemmbu nodded.
"I thought..." He looked down at the bandages. "I thought people cut them off."
Ashswag frowned.
"Not unless they have no other choice."
Wemmbu relaxed just a little.
"...Oh."
His stomach growled loudly.
He immediately covered it with both hands, his face turning bright purple with embarrassment.
Ashswag couldn't help a small smile.
"When was the last time you ate?"
Wemmbu looked away.
"...Yesterday."
Ashswag's expression tightened.
"I'll make something."
As he stood and walked toward the kitchen, Wemmbu watched him carefully.
He still didn't know if he trusted this strange boy with the glitching eye.
But for the first time since he had escaped the End…
...he felt safe enough to stop looking over his shoulder.
______________
This was Wemmbu's first time trying stew. Usually, he ate whatever his momma brought him, but he figured that wasn't going to happen anymore.
He missed her.
"So," Ash said.
"Hm?"
"What's your name?"
"Wemmbu..."
"I'm Ashswag, but you can just call me Ash."
"Ash..."
"Yeah.”
Silence settled between them for a while.
Wemmbu stirred the stew with his spoon, watching the vegetables float around in the broth. It smelled good, but it wasn't like his momma's cooking.
Ash leaned back in his chair. "You don't talk much, do you?"
"I don't know."
Ash chuckled softly. "That's alright. Someone's gotta listen while I do all the talking.”
Wemmbu looked up for the first time. "You talk a lot?"
"Oh, you have no idea."
A tiny smile tugged at Wemmbu's lips before he could stop it.
Another quiet moment passed, but this one didn't feel as heavy.
"So..." Ash asked more gently, "How old are you?"
"I think... five."
"You think?"
"My momma kept track." Wemmbu's voice grew quieter. "I never had to."
Ash's grin faded. He stared at the table for a second before nodding.
"I get it."
Wemmbu glanced at him. "You do?"
Ash shrugged. "More than you think."
Neither of them said anything after that. They just ate their stew together, and for the first time since arriving, Wemmbu didn't feel quite so alone.