The Mark Of the Nether (A Minecraft fanfiction)

The Brothers

Piper's POV:

(That night..)

I pulled the sheets up to my neck, trying to shut my eyes. Groaning, I twisted and turned. Sadly, it was only right before going to bed I realized I had dropped my sleeping bag while we were running to the Safe House in the forest.

"This bed is so uncomfortable-" My muttering was cut off by Morgan. She was in her bed with her back to me.

"Oh shut up!" She grumbled. "I have been here for most of my life, so I don't want to hear you whining all night about how the pillow isn't fluffy enough, or the blanket is too thin, or how the bed is too har-"

"Much better!" I smiled. As she had been talking I had taken the pillow and blanket and placed them on the floor. The pillow was thin and so was the blanket, it was barely thicker than a single piece of fabric. But I didn't mind. "Ah," I sighed. "That bed was way too soft."

"Way too- what?" I heard rustling as Morgan turned to see me, but I was already nodding off.

"Goodnight Morgan." I mumbled, yawning. There was slight hesitation, but after a moment she spoke.

"Yeah.. Night, Shane."

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My eyes were still closed, but I could feel myself floating- while at the same time being stable -as I stood there.

"Alright, what am I seeing today?" I called out. I knew at this point I probably didn't dream. I either had these weird past visions, or talked to the spirits. Although the latter had only happened once. As my eyes slowly opened, I noticed where I was. Not the void, not Heather's cottage. Instead I was on the bottom floor of the Orphanage. Not the Safe House, but the Orphanage. Back long before Oakland and Ziggy and all the rest of them were here.

The distant shouts of the rowdy orphan kids filled my ears and I turned to see two boys. They were glaring at each other, but one was taller than the other. The smaller one, who looked to be about Donnie's age, held his head high. He had floppy blonde hair and cerulean eyes, although some of his hair fell into his face covering up his right one. The other boy had matching blonde hair, but his eyes were dark brown- almost black. That one seemed to be around my age.

"Out of the way, squirt." The older boy said, his face was hard and he had a few visible scars on him. It was then I realized the younger one was blocking his way to the front entrance.

"I know what you're planning." The younger boy growled. He had a lot of gut for a kid. I smacked my forehead before rolling my eyes, knowing they couldn't see me. Why am I thinking like that, I AM a kid.

"Oh, poor little baby." The older boy, I'm going to just call him Scar for obvious reasons, sneered at the little boy- who I think I'll refer to as Blondie. "What, want a piece of the action?"

"You're sick." Blondie spat out, with a surprising amount of venom for someone who couldn't have been more than nine. "I know you heard Rosalyn on the phone, there's a new kid coming and you're gonna take the opportunity for a new victim."

"You know, for such a 'smart' seven-year-old, you sure don't know when to mind your own business."

Seven? He was seven? Damn, I like this kid even more now.