Village Orphan

Village Orphan: A Chilling Ride

Steve rambled about the state of his base as we travelled. I followed along, only half listening as he spoke. From the little I gathered, his base wasn't that far off, and it wasn't his finest work. Not that I cared, bases were just temporary places to hold your beds. Still, he seemed to believe his base was worth a five-minute talk because his end of the conversation was still lively when we began to slow down. We had been walking along the edge of the birch forest that ran directly East of the mountain. The trees looked no different to me, but staring at the tattoo on his arm, Steve turned left and headed into the sparse woods. Birch trees were so open. Had it been any other forest, I may have been wary, but birch trees made room for the sun to shine along the forest floor. The flowers and grass growing along the roots of the birch danced in the wind, peaceful.

Steve stopped abruptly. He backtracked, searching the bases of the trees, frustration etching his features. I waited, noticing the trapdoor, but wanting to see how he would handle his temper. My teacher used to do this to me when I was still wild and rebellious. His movements became brisker as he searched, but he noticed me watching. His eyebrows were furrowed as he inhaled deeply, grabbing the bridge of his nose as he calmed himself. I pointed to the trapdoor. It took him a minute to follow my direction, but he turned back to me, almost accusatory when he did. I shrugged, and he shook his head. He propped open the door, shifting aside dirt and weeds as he pulled, before hopping down into the hole.

Not too bad, but his silent anger was slightly worrying. My teacher had always told me that cold emotion could be the most dangerous kind. It was that cold heartlessness that monsters used to tear families apart. Brisk anger is what you used to tear them apart.

I followed Steve into the hole, choosing to use the ladder instead of replicating his reckless plunge. It led down into a narrow stone block corridor, so narrow that my hips brushed the sides. It was cramped and dark, but a literal light at the end of the tunnel offered minimal relief. It outlined Steve for a brief moment before he exited into the hidden room.

Following shortly behind him, I could finally see why Steve was so pleased with his work. The 'base' was simple but aesthetically pleasing. Spruce logs acted as support beams for the small but tall room. The walls were smooth stone, but the trim carried the same stone bricks from the outside corridor. It was nice, it was classy, but most importantly? It had a red and gold minecart contraption running in through the opposite wall. I had never seen minecarts outside of mineshafts, but even those were to be avoided. Too many spider spawners, it was a swordless adventurer's worst nightmare.

I rushed over to the rickety, worn cart, rocking it as I examined the track. Most were the usual iron and wood tracks that littered the mines, but here and there the track held gold and red pieces of glowing track. Next to each set was a matching red torch. I heard chests opening and closing behind me, but didn't wait to climb into the precarious cart. It groaned at my weight. Rude.

Behind me, I heard Steve's footsteps approach, and suddenly the minecart was pushed forward. It moved slowly, and I whirled around to glare at Steve, but suddenly the cart shot forward and I was flown into the back of the cart. I held on tight as I fought against the wind to look forward, beginning to grin as my initial panic settled in my stomach. Behind me, another minecart sounded as it matched my speed. I was lucky Steve had a spare handy, since the cart was currently an unstoppable forcing, pushing past hundreds and thousands of blocks. Along the way, I saw a few stations similar to the one we'd entered through. Soon, the wind rushing by me turned biting and cold. The sudden temperature change caused my nose to run and my bones to ache. I had never been so cold. The thrill of the ride had begun to dwindle, the track unchanging and losing its thrill. Just as I thought the rocks would never end, the end of the track approached. I could only see the floor of the room since the station floor was one block higher than the track, and that same floor was hurtling closer by the second. To my right, a lever stuck out from the wall of the tunnel, but I noticed it too late.

"Steve!" I called out, trying to remain calm.

"I got it," he replied, and I heard the sound of the lever being pulled. The sides of the tunnel made loud, grating sounds, and suddenly the road beneath the end of the track was pulled away. I was hurtled through the floor into a short room, but I didn't have much time to examine it before the cart plunged into the water. I pushed the cart down and used the leverage to hop out into the water. The surface tension of the water broke and the cart began to take on water as I stood stomach-deep in water. The roof closed above me and Steve was nowhere in sight.