LOSING GAME ➳ dreamwastaken

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞

Reverie sprinted through the forest, her body pumping with adrenaline. Sinister sounds echoed in the darkness of the trees—the growling of Zombies, the rattling of bones, and all Reverie had to defend herself was a tattered bow, three arrows and her own survival instincts.

The canopy of leaves overhead blocked out the faint light of the moon and stars, leaving Reverie in almost complete darkness. She stumbled, tripping over eroded rocks and tree roots, the sound of her own desperate panting filling any intervals of silence in the night. She could feel hot blood trickling down her leg from where she had cut her leg when she fell over for the second time. As she ran, the final interaction she had had with her father before fleeing L'Manberg played on repeat in her head, drowning out all positive thoughts.

She had finally plucked up the courage to confront Schlatt—not just for exiling Wilbur and Tommy, but for abandoning her and Tubbo when they needed him most. Schlatt, of course, didn't like this. He got aggressive, just as he used to after his wife died, and the malice in his shouts of fury made Reverie cower in spite of herself; and for the very first time, Reverie's father raised his hand to her.

It was a small blow—a quick swipe across her face, but it was enough to leave a growing bruise and bring tears to Reverie's eyes. Fear and years of agony and loneliness overwhelmed her and, with no regards for the fact that she was leaving Tubbo behind with their father who had caused them nothing but trauma, Reverie seized her bow and took off into the sunset.

She had been running for hours now. Her ribs ached, her lungs burned and her feet screamed for mercy, yet she refused to stop until she was safely out of reach of Schlatt. Besides, it would be foolish of her to lay to rest in the middle of a dark forest when monsters were looming in the shadows. And so she continued to run, hoping to find a hidden village, or maybe a late-night hunter collecting bones and Ender pearls.

And with a stroke of luck, Reverie rounded a corner and ran straight into something. A tree was her first thought, but then she remembered that trees could not yell, and whatever she collided with had definitely let out a scream just as great and fearful as her own.

Reverie stumbled and toppled to the ground. With tears rolling down her cheeks and panic flooding her veins, she scrambled backwards, desperately trying to escape whatever or whoever she had run into.

"Who's there?" the person demanded and, in her state of terror, Reverie could not place the voice to a face. Whoever they were, they were carrying a lantern and they held it up, the flame within dancing in the night and casting orange shadows across their face.

Reverie's heart leapt. Though his sweater was torn and his face was caked in mud, and his eyes were sunken by exhaustion and fear, she recognised him immediately.

"Reverie?" Wilbur said in disbelief.

She let out an enormous sob and jumped to her feet, throwing herself into Wilbur's arms. Sobs racked her body as she clung to her best friend's yellow sweater like her life depended on it. Wilbur staggered but quickly regained his balance and, without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Reverie and held her tight, doing his absolute best to offer her comfort.

"Hey, hey, you're okay," he muttered soothingly. "I've got you. You're okay."

"I—I was so worried about you, Will," Reverie choked. Her grip on Wilbur only tightened. She feared that this wasn't real, that Wilbur was an illusion her mind had projected before her to distract her from her fear before she malfunctioned and collapsed.

"Me too," Wilbur told her. "I'm sorry I had to leave you there with him."

"Are you real?" Reverie asked, her voice cracking from the force at which her tears were still falling. "Is this real?"