[11]
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I groaned, flexing my knuckles. I'd been in this small ravine for the last few hours, aimlessly mining at the stone for some more resources. The world still looked dim and barren - the lush, underground caverns lacked the normal buzz of axolotls and cold breeze that blew through the glow-berry vines. Was this an unknown side effect of underage smoking and alcohol? I chuckled at the thought, shaking my head. Though, it put me on edge, the echoing cave frying nerves like chips in cooking oil. By the time I'd left, my heart was hammering and my hands trembled slightly as I lit another cigar - birds chirped and squawked as one of my dogs looked at me. I sighed comfortably, welcoming the familiar haze that wreaked havoc among my brain. All rationality fell out the window as I took another drag.
I began to build up, marking out the area for a new build. I wanted to construct a huge copper mountain, fit for a king. But, it currently looked flat and very basic. The dirt foundations and shoddy torches were flung around in the acres of land carelessly.
I turned to face my mountain of unorganized chests, dismay lurking within my stomach as I realized I would need to sort this out eventually. Stacks of dirt and cobblestone jumbled into crates full of uncooked meats, rotting flesh and string really didn't seem hygienic nor sensible. But, I didn't want to do it now, a part of me still ached to explore my surroundings. The dense oak forests surrounding my bleak wasteland reached for as far as the eye could see; I hadn't seen anyone for miles, I thrived with the isolation. I grabbed some raw mutton, shoving it haphazardly into my pockets. I turned on my heel, marching towards the woods that ached and groaned with secrets and hidden beauty.
The fresh meadow dew left a refreshing, damp smell wafting through the birch and oak logs. I stumbled blindly for what seemed like hours, before I toppled over something - I smacked my wrist on the iron railing, pain blossoming from the impact. I hissed, exhaling a displeased breath through my teeth; what had I even tripped over? I brushed my clothes off, ignoring the dirt stains on my brown dungarees - the straps dug into my shoulders as I stood up, grunting.
It was a set of rails, leading away into the bushes.
I crouched down, inspecting the metal. There was no rust, despite the recent rainstorm. These must be new, I thought. My eyes tracked the metal fencing, my curiosity spiking as I stood up once more. Slowly, I trudged along the tracks but as I heard a rattling sound, I jumped out the way. A mine-cart flew, barely missing my legs. If I had still been standing there, I would've been wiped out! It was empty, as it raced and toppled off the unfinished rails. I bit back a snort, peering through the woods. I saw a small cottage, plumes of billowing smoke erupting from the duel chimneys - vines covered the roof as trees teetered around the building. I wandered into the clearing, noticing a small cow farm; I cocked an eyebrow at the lone pig stood in the corner, a nametag swung from its chubby neck.
'Reuben'.
I approached the house, equipping my iron ax. I saw a sign, above the birch and dark oak paneled door. The words mushed and seeped together like soggy sponges. I groaned inwardly, squinting my eyes as I tried reading the simple sentence. A few minutes later and I was still stood, staring at the sign - it didn't make sense, maybe I was just tired. These last few nights had been sleepless as I'd tossed and turned with quaint worries and petty thoughts, but they raged on, no matter how many times I'd forced them out. I walked away, moping over the unrealistic fact that I couldn't read. Two figures emerged from the woods in front of me, as I froze like a deer in headlights.
Aster and Fern.
My heart pounded as my mouth went dry. This didn't look good for me - an iron ax and a guilty expression. Aster's eyes darted towards me, the nonchalant gaze wiped from their face as they saw me. Fern turned around, her chronically confused eyes shot to my ax, as I sheepishly placed it behind my back. Seconds ticked by like minutes, minutes drooping into hours as what felt like an eternity of icy glares were flung around. I fumbled for a conversation starter, the words deflating on my forked tongue. "I was just... dropping some stuff off!" I explained quickly, breaking the miniature staring contest between us. Aster scoffed loudly, tucking a strand of loose hair behind their pointed, but prettily bejeweled ears. Gold chains hung from their ears, as the tips twitched with anticipation. I saw their slightly scarred hands itch towards a halter on their thigh but I thought nothing of it.
YOU ARE READING
Molepire: The Serpent's Silver Tongue
Fantasy!! DISCONTINUED, MIGHT CONTINUE !! serpent /ˈsəːp(ə)nt/ See definitions in: 1. a sly or treacherous person, especially one who exploits a position of trust in order to betray it. _________ [Content warnings will be issued when required. - This book...