A figure stood on top of the snowy, rocky mountain.
Her orangey-blonde ponytail whipped her face. Deep green eyes stared at the stunningly bright full moon. Her shadow was tall and beautiful against the rocky top. The stars almost looked like white blots on a dark navy blue page…

She shook her head, taking a pickaxe out from her backpack. From the light of the full moon, you could see that it was a scratched but shiny diamond pickaxe. Anybody can recognise that indistinguishable blue glint. It hadn’t been around that long, apparently.
Walking away, she climbed down the mountain, searching for something.

Eventually she stopped. The figure had found what they were searching for.

She entered a small cave hidden away on the side of the mountain and held out her sword. Again, from the moonlight, you could tell it was a diamond sword, but not in good shape, as the handle was battered and cracked and the surface rough and broken. She still held it out.
As she ventured further into the cave, a noise broke the silence. A deep moan came from around the corner.

She stopped to pull on some armour.


The diamond helmet felt a bit small and tight but otherwise perfectly fine, apart from a small portion on the top which was dented. The chestplate was also dented in the middle but mostly intact. The leggings had a long scrape coming from the hip to the ankle, but like the chestplate was still mostly intact. But the boots- oh, the boots!
They were so broken that there was some serious damage by the heel, blackened toes, splattered blood over the front and even a large chunk missing from the top of the left one.

Nonetheless, she turned the corner, gear at the ready.
’Who is there?’ She said, echoes of her voice rang around the caves.
Another groan cut off the echoes as a zombie stumbled towards her.

She calmly grabbed out a bow, arrows at the ready. Not stopping to dodge the zombie’s lunge towards her, she aimed and fired at the zombie’s head.
It stumbled and fell.

The zombie’s head was bleeding rather badly and she could even see patches of grey-ish bone around its head, arms, legs and body . She watched as the zombie made one dying attempt at killing her, dragging its body to her. But it was no use. The monster was dead.

She kept on walking, bringing out her diamond pickaxe.

* * *

She had been walking for over two hours now. As she turned the next corner, a worrying thought crossed her mind:
What if I run out of food? Do I even have any left? She wondered.
Taking off her backpack, she searched inside for at least one steak chop, or even some mushroom stew. But not a single piece of food was there.
’Dammit! I must have eaten the last steak chop. I will die down here!’ She said, dropping her pickaxe on the floor.

‘I have some.’ A man’s voice called out in the darkness.

‘Who’s that?’ She shouted, hoping the man who had dared speak would hear her, be intimidated and move elsewhere.

But the man did nothing of the sort.