奔跑後的落葉- Wither x Skeleton Fanfic

一年後

一** (Chapter One)
eng: One year later
~

Skeleton

~

I never found them.

A year ago, I left my family in search of warmth. I couldn't bear watching them shiver with rattling bones. I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have.

I returned a week later with a bunch of wool. Turns out that a few miles away from our campsite were livestock and a few plants that could survive the cold.

I rushed back to our campsite at once, hugging myself in order to generate a bit of warmth. I had gotten lost a few times along the way, but I was able to retrace my footsteps.

My footsteps halt when I step foot back into the camp. My breath slowed.

There's no one here. This can't be right; I'm positive that this is the campsite!

I looked in and out of tents. I looked inside the Elder's tent. There was nothing but snow and ice.

"M-Maybe they finally decided to leave," I whisper. Maybe Elder decided to leave after all.

The blotch on my arm was starting to get a lot larger now. I can't stay here. I need to find warmth before I freeze to death.

Without looking back, I re-enter the forest. This time, I wasn't planning on coming back.

~

This brings us to the present day, a year later.

I have almost used up all of my arrows to hunt sheep and other livestock.

I cough bitterly at the cold air hitting my face. With every step I took, the wind seemed to be getting stronger.

It's my second year trapped in this cold, unforgiving biome. Most of my bones were covered with a light-blue hue by now.

I never knew how to build. I was never taught. Therefore, I didn't know how to build shelter for myself. Every night I slept outside.

Before we were trapped in this cold and unforgiving biome, each skeleton was assigned their own specialty. There were three classes: Builder, Archer, and Melee. After skeletons were turned into sinister wither skeletons, some of us were forced to learn their ways in combat.

I, of course, was taught the most useless skill of all: Melee combat.

I remember complaining to Elder about my role placement. "I'm a normal skeleton! Melee combat is for the wither skeletons!"

But, of course, my complaining went unheard.

I can still work with a bow, but my aim is abysmal. I remember when I snuck into a training session for the archers. When it came to hitting a bull's eye, my arrow ended up landing halfway across from where it was supposed to land.

After that, I didn't use the bow anymore. I'm decently skilled with a sword— at least, good enough to survive.

My feet trudge through the icy snow beneath me. My breathing was extremely labored and desperate. I've been walking for hours on end in search of food. I hadn't eaten in days, and my health was getting dangerously low.

As much as my body wanted to give up, I couldn't. I kept walking on, bearing the pain of the unforgiving cold.

My feet suddenly catch onto something. I yelp and trip, landing face-first. I groan and shake the snow off of my face. I grit my teeth.

I turn around to find out what I tripped over. My eyes scan the cold icy ground. I spot a royal blue cloak.

"What is this...?" I murmur, picking up the thin piece of cloth with my shaky hands. The cloak was slightly ripped, but I didn't mind. I place the piece of clothing over my shoulders and continue to walk on.