HI PEOPLE! A FEW DISCLAIMERS!! I do not own Minecraft, Steve, Herobrine, Alex, Notch (duh) or ANY original Minecraftian characters that may be mentioned or hinted at in this book!!! 

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 Ava Woods' POV

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           "Ugh, no...okay...nope, not that either...ouch! No again..."

          I sighed as I struggled to stand. I had fallen, 'graceful' as usual, flat on my face in the green grass of a meadow near my house, and my one remaining crutch had been flung at least five blocks away. Good news, the grass was soft...sort of. Bad news, I distinctly remember that, underneath my stomach, was a dirt patch. My once-teal shirt was going to get a new pattern. I had been out gathering wood for my fire, to keep me warm. I'd dropped all the wood, and by the time I got up and started towards my house, the sun would be too low to try and find all the sticks. I would just have to bear the cold until tomorrow.

          I scowled as I tried to push myself into a sitting position, my light brown hair falling into my greenish eyes, "Ow! Owowow..." I hissed. This hadn't gotten easier the first several times it had happened. On the contrary, my lower spine was deteriorating, and every movement I made with my legs would reward me with a bolt of pain through my legs and lower back, not to mention the merciless ache that would come later that night and the knowledge that I had done even more damage to my already-numbing legs.

          I bit my lip, fighting the urge to groan, and finally pushed myself onto my rear, my nearly useless legs limp, folded over one another and my bandaged feet near my right hand. I rubbed my lower back, feeling the deep scar across my spine, preparing myself for the upcoming crawl towards my crutch. I took a deep breath and proceeded to army-crawl over to my crutch, legs scraping against rough rocks hidden in the deceptively lush grass, as my black pants were thin, and did little to protect my skin. Sweating and breathing hard, I finally made it to the wooden thing, grabbing onto it and smiling tiredly. Well, now I could go home and make myself a new one. 

          My last crutch had been lost over the falls near my sorry excuse for a house. I'd been using it as a fishing pole to save wood. I didn't make a new one and just dealt with it, thinking I could get along, as I couldn't spare the wood then. I guess I'd just have to deal with yet another missing plank until I fixed my ax somehow. I grunted as I pushed myself to my feet, shaky from the fall, the crutch balancing me. I needed to get home soon, the breeze had cooled down and the sky was a bit pink. I began to slowly and clumsily start back towards the woods I had come from, leaning heavily on my crutch. My labor, however, did not prevent me from stopping every once and a while to admire the beauty of the place in which I lived. I had managed to survive in this beautiful valley surrounded by a chain of mountains, with one narrow pass between the mountains leading out at the far side. I was too weak to go there myself, but I'd seen a slight break in the mountain chain and surmised there must be a little-used pass there. Almost no one had ever come across me, so I knew I was far out of the way of any towns or settlements. 

          The call of a bird had me alert and looking hard at the surrounding woods. Any noise had me on edge. In this horribly weak state, I'd be fair game to anyone. Slave traders, thieves, murderers, the possibilities were endless. Seeing nothing, I winced as I remembered one visit, pausing in my trek home to close my eyes and let the memory flow. 

        I had been out gathering grass. I needed the seeds, as my field wasn't big enough to support me through the winter. I'd found that out the hard way when I nearly starved to death last winter. As I hit the wild grain with my crutches and stiffly bent down to gather the precious seeds, I heard the squawking of startled birds over to my right. I stiffened, stuffing the seeds into a tiny bag on my hip. I'd learned to pay attention to the birds. They would warn me and give me enough time to hide from danger.

          However, I didn't have enough time to hide this time. The thundering of horses' hooves on grassy woodland turf was already getting louder. I took a deep breath, standing straighter though it shot pangs through my spine. The riders burst out of the trees, their leader grasping an iron sword, his eyes wild and dark, while the rest waved stone swords or axes. One even sported a bow and a shaft of arrows. They were strong and most had beards. All six wore heavy travel cloaks, and their horses looked beat.

          They had obviously been escaping something.

          I thinned my lips and stood tall, adrenalin coursing in my blood, staring openly at the leader, who had yanked on his reins and held up a hand to stop his followers. He stared hard at me, and I could see him noting my pained stance and crutches and, most importantly, my lack of a weapon. He signaled for his men to dismount and surround me. They did so with silent precision, I could tell these men were battle-hardened, professional killers. I couldn't stop a flinch at the leader's rough voice. He rode closer and stopped short of me, growling, "Where do you dwell? I  and my men require shelter for the night. Cooperate and you won't be harmed."

     I blinked, eyes flicking to the mass of men and snorting horses behind him. There was no way I'd be able to fight them all off alone... Oh, WHY had I come out this far at this hour??

     "Tch, what are you mute? Stupid girl, you'll regret wasting your chance to live."

      His voice startled me from my frozen panic, but it was a bit late. The leader snapped twice, looking beyond me as though I was too lowly to even garner his interest, "Kill her."

          Well... Notch. I'd survived this long, simply to perish at the hands of ruffians?? And yet, even as pleas for mercy flooded my head, my tongue remained frozen, uncooperative.

     The creak of a bow reached my ears, and I swallowed and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable...

          "Andron, Wait!" 

          My eyes shot open, sudden hope and relief coursing through my veins, overwhelming.

          "Sir...What if...she's HIS?"

        "Tch, I don't believe in HIM. HE is a stupid myth for children..." Andron's voice did not match his boastful words, however, and he faltered in his speech, his voice trailing off into nothingness. He suddenly growled, "Fine! Let's get moving... follow me." 

          I slumped against my crutch in relief. The thieves began directing their horses around me, some of them glaring. However, one nodded as he passed, offering the slightest of smiles, "Fare ye well, lassie... I wish you luck in surviving out here, and I pray to Notch that you haven't fallen into HIS hands."

          I was surprised, he had no malice on his face. He spoke with an odd softness in his rough tone. I gaped slightly at them as they all passed, filtering into the trees beyond.

          I still wonder about what that thief meant when he'd said, "What if she's HIS?"  Who was HE? I wondered if the bandit meant some slave owner or something. I sighed, opened my eyes, and continued awkwardly making my way to my house. I broke through the trees and saw it, sitting on a small rise in a meadow, surrounded by oaks and birches. The small, one-room building was made of shoddily-cut planks of oak. I was too weak to drag full-on logs to where my house was and thus had to suffer severe cold during the winter and slight flooding in the spring. However, before I had built my house, I dug pretty deep and made a cellar of sorts. I lived there and built my house over it. It was warmer in winter and cooler in summer, and it would do until I repaired all the planks in my house. Some had begun to rot, as I had chosen bad wood.

          Many months had passed since the day I had sent those bandits running, and I could now barely move, but I managed to care for myself. Years of little protein and meats made me appear very unhealthy. However, I could not hunt. I had managed to use some of my precious wheat to lure and feed some sheep, using their wool for various purposes, but the fences I had built soon fell into disrepair and I had been forced to kill the sheep that did not run away, to survive the winter.

          Pushing away the bad memories, I stumbled up the small rise and shouldered open my front door, then leaned against it to force it closed. Just in time too, as the sun was minutes away from disappearing behind the mountains. I surveyed my pitiful 'house'. Gaps in the boards were stuffed with wool to keep out the cold, and the door needed repairs, the zombies would strike the door every night, and even chew on it, trying to get in. I could no longer sleep above ground and went into the cellar every night to sleep. The numerous gaps in my house were too small for mobs to get in, but I did not trust it. Creepers could also scent me through the cracks and could blow me apart. 

          I sighed and felt my stomach growl in response. I was starving. I hobbled over to an old, badly-made chest, and checked the interior. Only a bit of wheat and a small pouch of sugar remained. Enough for a loaf. I'd need to fish tomorrow. I glanced over at the wooden bucket that held my water for the day. There was a little left, thankfully. As I took a wooden bowl and mashed the wheat, sugar, and water together, I began making a mental list of things I needed to do, things that all required wood. I scowled and slapped the mess of wheat mash and water onto a stone plate, sliding it above my fireplace to bake. Wood wood wood! I needed a better ax. 

          As I sat and watched the flames flicker and dance, I began to think about the future, which didn't look too bright. I knew that I'd eventually succumb to the pain, or become completely paralyzed, and would most likely starve to death, or die from exposure. I often wondered if I would die alone. However, I instinctively knew, despite the evidence against it...

          ...that there was definitely someone else living in this valley. I had never seen anyone, but I always felt watched in some way or another.

          I shuddered at the cold breeze flowing freely through my house. The wind brought the wails and moans of hungry undead, the creatures of the night. I pushed down my dark thoughts. I needed to persevere until I could push no more, deal with the here and now, not fantasize about possible fates or a hidden stalker. I took a thin wooden plank and scooped the bread from the slab, letting it cool on the plank before devouring the tiny loaf. I raked hot coals over the dying fire, brushed the crumbs from my dirty shirt, and staggered to my feet. I hobbled over to a faded rug of plain wool, lifted it, opened the cellar door beneath, and descended into the darkness. I groped blindly around until I found the torch on the wall. I grabbed the flint and steel out of my pocket, struck them together a few times, and blew gently to light the torch. It was my second-to-last torch, as I had avoided coal mining. If I were to fall into a sudden opening or be trapped in a cave collapse, I would certainly perish.

          I turned tiredly to my bed, which was nothing but a few wool rugs stacked on top of some stone blocks I had dug around and flopped on top of it. The cellar was only about five blocks deep, and four wide. The ceiling barely cleared my head, and it smelled of damp earth and torch smoke. I rolled over to my side and just let my crutch fall to the ground. I managed to blow out the torch before succumbing to deep sleep.

          Fire. Fire everywhere. Smoke...can't breathe... I can't get out! No, no...blood, there's blood on the ground over there! Why is that guy just lying here, is he dead!? Why is that child screaming over him!!?? Why is there so much screaming!? I need to run, run!! Why am I running!? There's too much fire! The village, it's lost, can't go back...Don't go back, run! Just run! Don't think, get away! Why is that man smiling!? Why does he laugh!? His sword, it's all bloody...he's...HE'S KILLING THEM!! He's killing the people fleeing the flames! No, no, he sees me! Run, back to the fire, no, he's too fast... He's swinging his sword... Now I'm screaming, pain, he's trying to kill me! I can't feel my legs... His eyes...DON'T LOOK AT HIS EYES!! STOP! LET ME GO!! DON'T LOOK HIM IN THE EYES!!

          I screamed and shot up in my bed, grasping my covers and clutching them to my chest. I suddenly remembered where I was. I took deep breaths, shaking and covered in sweat, 'Calm down, just a dr-dream...j-just a ni-nightmare...' I shuddered, panting. Fire, so much fire...I squeezed my eyes shut and whimpered. That nightmare again...I hated it with a passion...but it returned nearly every night, robbing me of sleep. I rocked back and forth, humming an old lullaby, though I'd forgotten the lyrics. I wasn't even sure where I heard it. As far back as I could truly remember, I had always been alone, living in this valley. I remember waking up in the meadow I built my house in. I couldn't remember much before then, just blurry faces, comforting murmurs, fire, and fear. I had fought and overcome impossible odds, had built myself a living here. I was a survivor. I always wondered how I got there and supposed the nightmare had something to do with it. I took deep, shuddering breaths to calm myself. It wasn't real, those...those eyes...they weren't real. I swallowed and lay back down gingerly, moaning a little at the ache in my back. I sighed and stared up into the darkness of the cellar, preparing myself for another long night of no sleep.

          It wouldn't be the last sleepless night, no matter how much I wanted it to be.