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Chapter 2: Footprints

The ground seemed to grab at Philza's shoes as he walked, dirt pebbles seeming to try and claw their way into his shoes and make his life miserable. Normally, Philza would just fly and this would be an easy trip, but being in the Nether always drains him. Well, it drains most people. Nonetheless, he made the decision to only fly on his way back to the portal, that way he can maybe stretch his food a bit more than what would be considered safe.

Philza's stomach growled. He couldn't wait to get back home and help Techno cook, something he showed quite a bit of enthusiasm for. Techno normally doesn't get excited about much, but the garden in the back was made by him and his mother, their sacred space that they had created together. Philza knows that Techno spends an uncanny amount of time in that garden, but who was he to criticize unhealthy coping behavior. Not like it was more unhealthy than what he was doing.

Wilbur had taken a different approach to coping. He sang. And played guitar. And played the piano. He disappeared to other people's houses for long periods at a time, using every instrument that anyone would lend him for the day. Most of the village thought that this was extremely cute, and he had heard them conspiring to get him a guitar for his next birthday. Philza smiled. Will would love that.

Philza continued to follow the trail, only losing it once. Phil was almost scarily good at tracking, him being a professional adventurer and bounty hunter before settling down. He thought back to the good old days, but he didn't really think of them as the good old days. His peak was never in the endless nights alone he spent hunting criminals down. He had found all the happiness in the family he had created; that was the true peak of his life. But here he was again, putting his past skills to work. Hopefully he wasn't too rusty.

Entering upon a horde of pigmen, Philza pulled his head down and tucked his wings in close, hoping to pass through this mob peacefully. Pigmen were, by scientific theories from the overworld, a type of deformed fae that happened when they got stuck down here. Philza couldn't imagine a person ever evolving into the sticky, bumbling pigs such as that, but nonetheless he would rather not have to slay innocent lives, no matter how de-evolved they were. Well, Philza counted himself lucky. Better another horde of pigmen then a pack of blaze.

Finally, Philza could see the scent that he had been tracking for miles. A discarded bowl of now empty soup laid upside down on the ground about a mile from the pig horde. This was the trail he was following. Pigmen don't use this type of stuff. Excited, Philza opened his wings and flew, carefully looking both ways for any ghasts that might've given him a surprise attack.

Landing just a few feet from the bowl, he smiled gleefully to himself. Is that... footprints?!

He leaned over and looked at the bare foot marks. But something was wrong. These marks were small. Too small. All the hope that he had started to carry deflated in his chest, and in frustration Phil kicked the soup bowl into one of the various lava pools that was bubbling around him. Philza looked out into the empty, burning world, and screamed out of pure frustration, before crumbling to his knees, exhausted.

Sitting in the heat, Phil's muscles twitched. I was so close. It's unfair. Unfair. I get so close. Why? Why has the Gods cursed me? Despite his extreme dehydration he was suffering through, he brought his hands up to wipe his face from his salty tears. He sat on the ground, fires randomly spurring up around him. His body ached. His heart ached. It'd be so easy just to end it. He hugged himself. So many ways to die in the Nether. The boys would never know- they would think I died looking for their-

His head snapped up as he heard something fall, yanking him from the darkness that had been closing in. Heart pumping, he drew his sword and extended his wings to their full reach, creating a massive figure that scares away most small mobs.