<_<

>_>

Uh sssup 

How you doin'

Congratulations on staying with me over my hiatus hjsfd

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RECAP

     Steven strode over, standing before Brine, arms folded. The poor being leaned back, worry crossing his face.

     Did they... want him disabled to ensure their safety?

     Steven's next words were soft, "Will you stay here with us?"

     Herobrine's mouth fell open, the breath leaving his lungs. He... was asking him to stay??

     His mind seemed to grind to a halt, completely forgetting so many words he'd studied and practiced. All he could do was nod, choking out some sort of noise.

     But that was all Steven needed as he knelt, offering his arms. Herobrine didn't hesitate a moment, throwing his thinner arms about Steven's neck, burying his face in the broad shoulder. Warm hands pressed to his back, rubbing gently, soothing.

     "There, bud... you're one of us now, alright?"

     Jake didn't take long to invite himself into the hug, ruffling Herobrine's hair affectionately, "You'd be very silly to think you can escape us now, kid... welcome to whatever mess this is."

     Herobrine couldn't answer, his throat had closed up, and tears were now staining Steven's shirt.

     "Welcome home bud..."

END RECAP

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing In

     Every step was torture.

     The winds howled angrily about Ephrim, threatening to knock his feet out from under him as he struggled up a steep, rocky crag of a path. His legs were sore, everything was sore, and the pack on his back seemed to have gotten heavier. Sweat was running, tickling, down his back, hot breath misting before him, but his fingers and nose, and toes were all but numb.

     Another step, reach out. Grab an ice-cold, slippery rock and pull yourself up.

     Struggle upwards, slip, recover, repeat. Ephrim could barely see the heels of another climbing mercenary ahead due to the sleet-filled wind.

     He and Adarion's pack had been dragging themselves up the steep mountain path since dawn. Their horses had been either traded or stabled in a small town at the base of the mountain, as the climb would be far too dangerous for the animals. The stablemaster had warned of the harsh weather, that the men should wait for at least a month until the rains stopped, but a growl from Adarion had shut him up.

     These men defied death; it was their way of life.

     Slip, frantically catch a stone, place your foot in a more secure place.

     Ephrim groaned as he forced his sore leg over a large stone. Adarion, the fool, had insisted on taking the most little-used path. For stealth's sake, he'd said. The mountain's inhabitants would never see them coming, he'd said.

     Stupid, foolish, lumbering bags of muscle. He was barely keeping up, constantly being nudged in the back and told to move it. They should have seen that the best way to get up this beast of a hill was the common road. They'd be exhausted and unable to do battle properly if they were shaking and cramping and collapsing.

     As he would be, of course.

     Dig your nails into the rocks, wipe sleet and sweat from your eyes. Place a knee on that ledge and roll to safety.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The height of the moon's rise marked the time the hunters finally made 'camp'.

     It was a pitiful camp indeed, as it consisted mostly of small huddles on a ledge barely larger than a one-room cabin. Ephrim was grumbling and by himself, wrapped in his cloak and shaking rocks out of a boot. The men were indeed worn out, and not many words were spoken as they ate their rations, drank a little water, and dropped into an exhausted slumber.

     The morning was much the same as the last. The hunters rose, ate, packed up, and began their ascent again. The thought of quitting and saving himself the trouble of enduring such discomforts crossed Ephrim's mind many times as the heat of the day (thankfully rain-free) bore down on them.

     However, the thought of the riches he could earn kept him stubbornly clawing his way upwards. If he could only get there... he'd be set for a long, long time indeed.

     The day and night passed almost identically to the previous, as did the next, and the next. Adarion allowed his pack half a day of sleep after the third day, just as Ephrim was on the verge of throwing up his hands and returning.

     And, after nearly a week of climbing, the ground began to smooth a little.

     The air became noticeably crisper, and there were bits of slush still littering the shadows of boulders. Trees began to appear more often, as they could now grow on this more even ground.

     And the flickering flame of hope Ephrim clung to...began to grow into a steady blaze.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "I think it should be called Troublemaker Chewston... the first."

     "Your names have about as much creativity as a dead painter."

     Jake rolled his eyes, flopping back onto his pile of blankets with a huff, "So cruel."

     Steve shrugged, chuckling as he watched Herobrine tease the enderling with a feather on a string, making it run wildly in circles, vlurping softly, "I only speak fact. It should have a more... real name."

     "Like what, midnight?"

     "No, like... Obsidian."

     "Same difference."

     "How about Manfred or something."

     A snort, "Manfred sounds like a noble butler."

     "Var'el."

     Both men blinked, heads swiveling to face where Herobrine sat, holding onto a squirming End-creature.

     "Var-whatnow?" Jake sat up, raking hair out of his eyes.

     "Var'el... It sound...good. Sound right."

     Indeed, the End-creature had stopped squirming, blinking up at the being quietly. Herobrine petted it, starting up its struggles again.

     "Var-el huh..." Steven stood, striding over to pop another log into the crackling fireplace. They were currently waiting out a small sleet storm, one that Jake refused to let any of them try and venture into. Sleet storms were always nasty business, he'd said. Nothing to mess with.

     "Well, glad that's settled. Now, Jake, do you have anything else we can do inside this cramped shed you live in?"

     "It's a lovely house and you know it," Jake shot back, "I have... uh..."

     "Stories?"

       Again, their attention turned to their little houseguest, whose eyes were...shining rather brightly.

     "Ah... stories?" Steve again took a seat by the fire, holding his hands toward the blaze.

     The being nodded, eager, and the enderling slipped free, making a beeline to lick the window.

     "Stories of what exactly?" Jake left his place, sinking down to complete their little half-circle around the fire.

      "Of... you. You both. What was... like to live human?"

     Herobrine tripped and struggled with his words, but both Jake and Steve nodded, glancing at each other.

      "Of course, we can tell you stories." Steven adjusted his position, "And you can listen in for words you don't understand and ask what they mean, alright?"

     Another, eager nod. This one was combined with a little smile.

     "Alright... where to begin..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "...sir? Lad, hey! Can ya hear me??"

     With a groan, Steve lifted a shaking hand to swat away the annoying voice. Just a few more minutes of rest...

     "Oi, he's alive! Ey, bring a stretcher!"

     Steve groaned something along the lines of, "M fine..."

     "Boy, yer covered in blood an' got no clothes."

     With a start, Steven jerked upright, eyes wide. A weathered face with kind, dark eyes greeted him, framed with a brown beard. A glance down revealed Steven's body had been covered with a cloak... which was stained with blood.

     His... his own blood?

     "Uh... I..." Steven's eyes flicked about, taking in the scenery around him. Tall dark oaks, lush grass, and flowers bobbing in a soft breeze. The sun was high above, beating down through the leaves of the spreading oaks.

     How... where was this? What...

     "Found ya jus' lyin' here. Figured ye were a sorry drunk at first but ah... we're 'bout five hunn'rd or so chunks from any village. Then I thought ye was a curse or a witch but then m' dog gave yer ear a lick an' I figured 'well them dogs know what's a curse and not so I best sees if I can help ey'-"

     Startled, and now thoroughly confused, Steven could only gape up at the man, grasping the cloak that provided his only covering, "Five... five hundred chunks..."

     "Yeaup. What's yer name, stranger?"

     "I... I-I think it's... it's Steven."

     "Well Steven, welcome t' the land o' the livin'."

     The stranger knelt beside him, now waving away a young man approaching with a stretcher, "Nah, get 'im some clothes."

     Steven touched his head, dimly noticing his fingers came away sticky with blood.

     His body... ached. It wasn't even the normal ache of an open wound... it pulsed and throbbed and stung, radiating from his heart, his head.

     What... what had happened?

     "This 's a particularly well-known spot o' cursed ground. Suspec' yer some poor sap who fell victim t' the spirits that prowl about ey?"

     Steven blinked at him, barely comprehending, "I... I guess so."

     "'member anythin'?"

     "N-no. Just my name."

     "Eh, must be th' spirits." The man calmly drew out a small pouch from his belt, sprinkling white granules into his hand, then tossed the stuff over his shoulder, tucking the bag away.

     "...what're you doing?"

     "Tossin' salt for luck."

     "Oh..."

     Soon, Steve found his dazed body propped up on the floor of a covered wagon, struggling to eat a loaf of partially stale bread and a little dried beef. Around him, the wagon creaked and rattled, and the muffled conversations of his new companions (of which there were many) joined the racket. Laughter, birdsong, and even the occasional notes of a flute mixed and waxed and waned, blending like a strange symphony.

     It lulled Steven into a sense of slight comfort, despite his whirling thoughts. Each question came and went, over and over like a tide. He remembered what a tide was, so how did he know nothing else?? How had this happened, where was he? When had he lost his memory, why was he so far from civilization? Why couldn't he remember...

     ...who was he?

    Steven could only sigh, leaning back and watching the leaf patterns of shadows play over the top of the covered wagon. Maybe... his memory would come back, right? He just needed a few weeks...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "...it did not take a few weeks, in fact. I still remember nothing from before."

     Herobrine sat, eyes wide, mouth gaped a bit as Steven finished his tale. Goodness, what a terribly... familiar way to wake...

     "After that, I just... went on my own way. I earned money to buy maps and pickaxes and supplies and began to wander about... guess I've been looking for my past without realizing it. Haven't been able to really settle down either..." Steven's gaze became distant.

     Jake's comforting hand on his knee snapped him back to reality, and Steven offered a small smile to their guest.

     "Guess I can't complain... this is nicer than anything I could dream up."

     Herobrine's hesitant smile rewarded him, and he glanced at Jake, who blinked.

       "Oh, y'want my tragic backstory now?"

     "Tch, tragic..."

     Jake sighed dramatically, touching the back of his hand to his forehead, "Alas I can hardly think of such a time without shivering..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "Jake Reno, get your sorry backside back in here afore I tell Pa what I caught ye doing this morn! He'll whoop y'good if he finds y'played instead 'f waterin' his horses."

     "Comin' sis..."

     With a sigh, the young blond boy stood up, tossing one last longing glance at the giant hole he'd been digging as he turned away, dusting off his ragged pants. He'd get to dig more later...

     He made his way up to the squat, one-room cabin, picking up the straw broom on the porch and beginning to sweep the dust away. Inside the small building, he could hear his brothers and sisters squabbling. Their voices joined the dim bickering coming from the barn and mixed with the rustle of the wheat and birdsong.

     Jake huffed, pushing the broom about without much care. Squabble, argue, bicker and fight. Be quiet and good when Pa came home from the fields. Cook the supper, clean the clothes, sleep pressed shoulder to shoulder with his nine siblings, and wake before dawn.

     If only he could grow up faster and go adventuring...

     ...if only Ma'd woken up five years ago.

      The boy scowled, watching dust scatter in the wind as he flicked it off the steps. He was nearly ten, practically a man! Just because he was the youngest didn't mean he was helpless or didn't know 'responsibility' or whatever...

     He let the broom fall against the wall with a clatter, staring off the porch at the horizon.

     If only...

     He turned on his heel and ducked into the overcrowded cabin to help with supper. Pa would be home soon, and he liked his food hot and ready as soon as he sat.

     Afternoon came and went, Jake found himself running and fetching water, scrubbing potatoes, and dreading the fact that they barely had enough food to stretch out between all the hungry mouths. It wasn't unusual, he'd gone to bed hungry plenty of times before but...

     ...oh how he wished he could be the master of his own meals.

     "He's coming!" The voice of the second-eldest sister hissed in his ear, "Hand me that plate, and go sit and wait for your helping."

     Numbly, he did as she told, handing over the plate and sulking in a corner. The ones who could help with the farm work ate first, they needed their strength.

     To combat his pinching stomach, he daydreamed of being an adventurer.

     And, not a year later, the boy got his wish. He fled in the early morning hours with carrots and potatoes stuffed in his pockets, a horse blanket covering him.

     No more cold nights, no more pinching stomach... no more angry Pa shouting about dirty little handprints on the walls.

     ...or, so he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "There were... a lot more hungry nights after that but... now I'm never hungry. If I'd stayed, I'd have been set up plowing rocky fields and struggling to harvest a head of grain before the birds reached it, no doubt," Jake sighed, shrugged, "Glad that part of life is over now, though."

     Steve could only give a troubled nod, remembering only vaguely the snatches of conversation he'd had with the younger man concerning his past.

     Jake had never been one to over-share...

     "I am... sorry. You both have not been long happy."

     The quiet voice broke both men from their thoughts once again, and Steve forced a smile, "Don't be sorry... we've been plenty happy here with you."

     His reward came in the form of Herobrine's shy grin, though his next words changed Jake's and Steve's smiles to looks of shock.

     "I am... like Steve."

     "What do you mean by that, bud?"

     "Woke... I wake with no remembers. Sit up in field, no one around. No one. No mem - memories. Did not know speech."

     Jake slipped Steve a look, and the elder cleared his throat, looking a bit concerned, "You... woke up with no memory? Where? Were you also covered in... in blood?"

     "No blood... field was very... how say, many plant?"

"Ah, lush?"

      "Lush, lush, yes. Much lush, many large tree, golden light and warm. Silence, but I know name."

     "That's... pretty odd, bud. Maybe one day we'll find that place and hunt around for clues a bit, aye?" Steve stood, passing by the smaller form and giving his hair a fond ruffle, "Maybe we're related."

     Jake snorted, paused.

     "...you know, I can see the resemblance."

     Steve blinked, glancing over his shoulder as he searched for an old pack of cards Jake stowed away, "Hm?"

     Herobrine's wide eyes met his, and Jake continued, "Well, jus' look at him. Same dark hair, same stubble kinda. Your noses both look roughly similar, both have the same jaw shape. All Brine is missing are some muscles."

     Steve smirked, shaking his head as he located the cards, bringing them over to their small group, "Hopefully the muscle issue will mend itself eventually, eh Brine?"

     Their slender guest scooted closer, inspecting the cards Steve now shuffled with wide-eyed curiosity, "I do like... how strong you look."

     "Food will help with that, bud... now how's about some cards?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pweez forgib me

Actually don't bc I had perfectly justified reasons to drop off the face of the earth lmao

Hopefully uh,,, what's next. Fallen Honor?

Sheeesh I got some Stuff To Finish ay