A Break From Manhunt

Not The Moo

Frightening groans grew annoying as they continued to fill the empty forest, along with heavy pants from a weary demon. Bad didn't think he could run much longer, he became more out of breath each step he took and it didn't help that his brain hadn't stopped panicking. The zombies were terribly slow, yet their stubbornness kept them chasing.

Scanning the eerie forest, Bad figured he'd just stack up three blocks and be out of the bothering mobs' reach. He scowled as he checked his inventory to find only two. He thought of running until his hunger got the best of him. He shook his head. Unless he wanted to get mauled by the muffin heads, it was such a dumb idea that it made him want to smack himself for even thinking it. He could hide in a hole; Dig one up, hop in, and cover it before the zombies got in. Bad shook his head again. What would his friends do?

They'd probably have stone tools already, fighting the zombies would be no problem for them. The zombies would've definitely all been killed by now. His friend's fighting skills were unmatched, especially Dream's. On a few rare occasions, Dream fought all four of them at the same time and could still manage to hold his ground. If he was struggling, he'd think of a way to get rid of the hunters. Bad sulked at his own carelessness as he tripped on his own foot, before he gained his balance and kept running.

Scenes appeared into Bad's head like a movie, more specifically the time when he and the other hunters found a heavily-damaged Dream eating, squatting on the ground trying to hide in between tall jungle trees. Dream ran at the sight of them, his footprints granting the hunters a trail on the moist grass under him. They'd caught up to him, except, before George could even graze him with the tip of his iron blade, Dream already sat rather smug at the top of one of the thick branches protruding from a smaller jungle tree.

However, only oak trees surrounded Bad this time. They weren't tall, no not really, but they would do. Bad looked behind him, his breath hitched. The zombies had gained on him without him noticing, Bad would've smacked himself if he hadn't been startled by a sudden hiss that came from one of the creepers.

They were gaining on him too, he noticed, faster than the zombies were. Bad ran quicker, any quicker than he could. He felt faint, his mind foggy, and his breath shorter with each aching step. He needed a distraction, a way to get rid of the zombies temporarily and long enough for him to get the chance to climb on top of one of the trees. Bad turned around and threw his already broken axe, which did nothing but trip one of the zombies who got up again with ease. His mind began to panic even more. What would his friends do?

The creeper hissed again. Bad turned around, one creeper now led the pack of mobs, the other creeper crawling with its disturbing four legs in the middle of the pack. Mouthing a silent prayer, Bad slowed down his pace, now dangerously close to the creeper. The creeper began flashing bright whites, signaling that it was now igniting. Bad lingered near it, the second he knew it would explode he sprinted as fast as he could, boosted by the sudden force of a heavy explosion that boomed loudly behind him.

Bad gasps at the amount of damage the explosion causes, but he ignores it, his attention caught. A tree stands out, taller than the rest, its branches almost welcoming, and Bad dashes straight to it. He clings onto the jagged trunk, the rough bark edging marks into his smooth hands as he climbs up the tree, kicking his legs upwards with desperation. The only decent spot suitable sits between a few overlapping branches that lay under heavy shaded leaves, and Bad longs for it. The disturbing sound of a dead-like groan echoes behind him, creating beads of sweat that run down his neck.

His hands grip one of the branches. He steadies himself, letting out a deep breath before attempting to pull himself up. Except his knees don't reach the branches, slipping and scraping itself on the trunk as Bad clenches the branch tighter, the bark spikes edging deeper into his skin.