Author: Conchin PM
Steve, a miner and hunter, realizes that sometimes playing 'lone wolf' just isn't an option.Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Adventure - Chapters: 18 - Words: 15,775 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 08-06-12 - Published: 11-20-11 - id: 7568422
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I carefully crouched, peering over the edge of the cliff and placing blocks of dirt in the shape of a promontory. Slightly less than a chunk away, grass was already growing on the fresh dirt I had placed. Earlier today I had spotted a vein of iron ore on the other side of the ravine I was trying to cross, and though it was risky to try and maneuver over a ravine-especially as sunset, when Endermen and Creepers could be coming out of their caves- I needed the iron.
Suddenly, I heard the unmistakable whoosh of an arrow as it flew by my ear. Startled, I stumbled backwards, and my right foot slipped off of the tiny bridge. I threw my arms out in front of me grabbed the dirt I had been standing on just a split second before I would have been falling to my death. I quickly clambered back onto the ledge and glanced around, searching for the skeleton that had shot at me. Bingo- under a tree, hidden beneath the leaves brushing the top of its head. I stood and faced it with my full height.
"Don't shoot!" I cupped my hands around my mouth so it could hear me. It drew its bow again. I ducked, but continued talking. "I have a full cluster of arrows in my backpack. You don't shoot, and they're all yours." Its bowstring slacked a fraction of an inch, but quickly grew taut again.
"Alright," I sighed. "I didn't want to have to do this." I pulled out my own enchanted bow, drew an arrow, and struck the skeleton in the head. It fell with one blow. I ran and jumped what was left of the gorge and walked over to the pile of bones. Some of its arrows were in good enough shape to be salvaged- unfortunately, it being a very old body, most of the bones were too caked with grime to be made into fertilizer. I placed my new arrows in my quiver and slung it back over my back, turning around to go finish building my bridge.
In my little cobblestone house that night, I sat stitching a new leather strap on my quiver to replace the old, faded one. Rufus, my wolf, sat at my side happily watching me work. After a while, my fingers were hurting and my eyelids were heavy, so I set the quiver down in the chest at the foot of my bed and rubbed Rufus behind the ears. He wagged his tail.
"Oh, does that feel good, boy? Does that feel good?" He nosed the palm of my hand playfully. I got the message. "You're hungry, huh. One second." I crossed the room to my furnace where I kept my raw pork. When I pulled it out, Rufus flipped over, showing his belly, and begged. "That's adorable, Rufus!" His tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth, and I tossed him the meat. Rufus attacked it hungrily.
"Okay, okay, I get it, you were hungry," I laughed. "You don't have to put on such a show, boy!" He quit mauling the pork and instead resumed eating in his normal fashion. "That's more like it." Exhausted, I crawled into my bed, and Rufus (after finished eating) crawled onto his square of wool where he slept. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of dragons and magical crystals in a far-off world.