Minecraft: Mob Squad: Never Say Nether: An Official Minecraft

This is the longest day of my life.

They took me from my bed, blindfolded me, gagged me, and dragged me along at the end of a lead like an animal. I reached for the gag once, and a sword tip pressed deep into my belly.

“Don’t even try it,” someone whispered. “I can hurt you without killing you.”Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

I listened carefully after that, because apparently whoever they are, they’re more worried about being seen than heard. One of the voices is familiar, but the rest of them are strangers.

The only time they let me see anything was at Elder Gabe’s shop. Someone held my head, tightly, and forced me to look only where they wanted me to look.

“Find any ingredients that can be used for potions,” a stranger’s voice said—a woman.

I tried to talk, to tell them that Elder Gabe had never entrusted me with that knowledge that I didn’t know what any of the stuff in Gabe’s closet even was, but when I reached for the gag, the sword poked me hard enough to draw blood. If I were braver, I would’ve ripped the fabric away and screamed my head off, sword or no sword, knowing full well that Elder Gabe’s shop is in the heart of the Hub, and dozens of people would’ve been asleep within shouting distance. But no—I was too scared of that sword, too scared of what they would do if I pushed my luck. Maybe I’ve fought illagers and hostile mobs, but that was with my friends. I’ve never been alone, never been helpless, never had adults willing to cut me.

I could only use my spread arms to indicate that everything in Gabe’s supply closet would probably be useful for something or other. The blindfold returned, and I heard chests opening, bottles rattling, bags of powder thumping. From what I could hear, they cleaned him out. I hope no one in town gets seriously hurt, because without those potions, the healer can really only urge folks to rest and eat a lot of meat.

They led me back outside then, and the next odd sound I heard was my least favorite voice screeching, “Hey, those are my mom’s berries!”

Judging by the muffled cries and scuffling that followed, I knew that I was no longer their only prisoner. Whoever these people are, they mean business, and they’re willing to kidnap extraneous jerks like Jarro to accomplish their goals. I heard them arguing among themselves, and then there was a sound that reminded me of my parents’ pumpkin farm back home, the crunch of a hoe and the ripping out of old vines—again and again and again. Judging by the smug chuckling, the thieves weren’t satisfied to just kidnap Jarro—they took all his mom’s sweet berry bushes, too.

One of the thieves—the one with the familiar voice, a man— shoved some of the berries into my hand and said, “Save these for later, kid. You’re going to need all the strength you can muster.” And I believed him; they weren’t going to treat me well. I obediently put the berries in my pocket, my mouth watering against the gag. I couldn’t eat them just then, but I know the sounds of my town, and I could tell where we were by the cobblestones, then dirt, then grass under my feet. When I was fairly certain we’d left the walled town and were walking through New Cornucopia, I dropped one of the berries, hoping my captors wouldn’t notice. Maybe if I left a trail, I thought, my friends will find me.

We walked for a long time. Although they’ve kept me blindfolded, I could tell when night gave way to morning, just the faintest change in the light. It rained after that, a heavy, cold downpour that soaked me to the skin. There was nowhere to go, no way to take shelter. I held my arms over my head, crying into my blindfold as I slogged through the mud. My captors killed mobs during the storm, and every time I heard a moan or groan or click or clack, my heart stilled in my chest and my hands ached for a weapon. I’d never felt so helpless.

I only had ten or so berries, and I didn’t know how far away they planned to take me. I dropped a berry every thousand steps, grateful that the counting gave me something to focus on. My feet grew sore as I walked and walked and walked, and then, after a time, I heard animals calling out. These thieves had planned ahead and were ready to make a quick getaway. Llamas bleated and grunted as their backs were loaded with chests, and then someone lifted me up, and I found myself precariously balanced in a saddle, sitting astride an animal I longed to see. It didn’t quite smell like a cow or a sheep, so I had to deduce it was a horse. Someone placed my hands on the horse’s neck, and I held on for dear life as my mount was led away. As grateful as I was to have some relief from walking, I’m much more comfortable with cat-sized animals than horse-sized ones.

I was out of berries, but my pockets are always full of raw materials, so I chose something that hopefully no one would notice—a dull iron ingot—and dropped it as my horse carried me ever farther from home. I couldn’t count a thousand steps anymore, and I knew that my pockets, like the berries, would eventually run out, so I started slowly, carefully counting to two thousand between ingots.

One axolotl, two axolotl, three axolotl.

That’s how Lenna’s been counting, ever since she discovered the odd little amphibians in one of Nan’s books. I miss my friends so much it hurts. I miss my brother, and I hate knowing that he’s surely beating himself up for letting me get kidnapped.

We rode all day, and the thieves kept rather quiet. I could hear their whispers, hear them cluck at their beasts, but no one spoke out loud or, like our old neighbor and nemesis Krog, gave a helpful explanatory evil-villain monologue that explained all the steps of their plan. As day turned to night, someone must have visually called a halt, as my horse stumbled to standing and rough hands plucked me from my saddle. I’d run out of iron ingots and started dropping coal by then.

“One word, and the gag is right back in,” a voice warned as the fabric was pulled down around my neck. “Understand?” Starving, I nodded eagerly and was given mutton, dry and tasteless. I didn’t have enough saliva to talk, much less yell.

As I ate and listened to my captors, hoping for clues about their identities and plans, I heard the familiar clink of multiple shovels and pickaxes and knew someone must be creating shelters for the rest of the night. Soon I was huddled against a rough-hewn wall, alone as far as my arms could reach. I knew they had Jarro, too, and I was so desperate for any kind of comfort that I would have welcomed one of his taunts, but I couldn’t hear him. There was no evidence that he was with us at all—I couldn’t even smell his telltale stench. I soon fell asleep, curled on the ground, miserable and far from home, wishing for the stolid sound of Chug’s snores and the warm caress of my sleeping cats, laid out upon my legs.

Hands shook me awake, and I clawed my way out of dark dreams. “Get up,” someone said, and I did. They gave me dry bread and more mutton, and I choked it down. I didn’t even think about calling out. What would I say, and to whom? We were already so far away from Cornucopia and everyone I’d ever known. What was the point? My only hope was waiting, listening, learning, and forming my own plan. They must’ve taken me for a reason, must have chosen me for a reason. My best guess? They want my crafting skills. That’s the only thing I can think of that makes me special, worth all this trouble. That means that sometime soon, they’ll have to take off my blindfold, and that’s when I’ll choose my escape strategy.

Now I’m back on the horse, none the wiser, throat dry and eyes crusted with tears sopped up by my blindfold. I sway with the rhythm of the unseen beast, wondering what color it is and if it knows that it’s being used for cruel purposes. Every two thousand axolotls, I drop something from my pockets…until I start to run out of inconspicuous things and stretch it out to three thousand axolotls. I can drop cobblestone or a compass in the tall grass tickling my feet, but I definitely can’t leave shiny gold ingots and expect no one to notice.

I hope Chug is okay, but with me gone, I know he can’t possibly be. He must be terrified. I’m sure the moment he discovered me missing, he took off to tell Mal and Lenna, and then they probably went to the town Elders. If, like last time, the Elders decided to do nothing, they probably went to Nan. Knowing all of them, knowing how it went last time, they have to be on our trail, following us, doing everything in their power to save me.

They have to be.

That’s what I’d do for them.

And I’m sure it’s what they’re doing for me.

My brother has the biggest heart in the world. He would crawl over broken honey bottles to help me. Mal and Lenna would join him. That’s the kind of friends they are. I have complete faith in them.

I only hope they can find us before something worse happens.

And if not, I’ll have to do it myself.

I don’t think of myself as brave or strong, but I’ll have to figure out how to escape on my own. Since we’re on horses, there’s no way my friends will ever catch up on foot.