The woods were quiet as nightfall crept over the sky. Birds tucked their heads under their wings or stared watchfully about for their next meal. A light breeze whispered through the forest, rustling leaves and breathing a chill upon all it touched. Winter would come soon.

Through these woods trudged a hooded figure. He wore a cloak of deep red which was lined with fur and which he kept tightly wrapped around him. His hood was low enough that his face could not be seen, but he could be heard. Grunts and an occasional exclamation of annoyance issued from inside the hood with great frequency.

The traveler stumped through the woods, grateful at least for his new boots. They would hold up longer than his last pair had, especially in the coming snow, as would the jacket. Absent-mindedly he rubbed the soft leather with a gloved hand, thinking with grim pride on how easily he'd intimidated the merchant to sell these items at a much lower price than the rip-off he'd obviously been intending. But there was no fooling the stranger.

You mean us.
We saw through his lies.

The traveller huffed aloud. Yes, he supposed there must be some credit given to the Voices. They told him many things on a daily basis, most of them violent, and it was true that they had informed him of the merchant's deceit. But the traveller liked to think that he was smart enough to figure it out himself too.

These Voices had been with him for as long as he could remember, filling his mind with a craving for blood and his hands with the urge to strike down whoever opposed him. They screamed for death, called out for bloodshed no matter who it was he faced. The traveller shuddered in his cloak, recalling all the children, the families he'd only just refrained from slaughtering.

Hm. But not the orphans, Technoblade.
Their blood must run. Always.

"Oh I know," the traveller growled. It was a menacing, animal sound that made every creature in hearing range pause in fear, searching for a predator they did not recognize.

Technoblade continued walking, pausing once when his cloak snagged on a bush. Its opening revealed a carefully polished golden crown attached to his belt. It was set with rubies except for the front, where an emerald sparkled. Technoblade flicked his cloak free, covering the crown once more.

Listen!

With a sigh, the warrior flipped his hood down in obedience to the command. His face was a strange sight. His large eyes were a deep, dark red and his nose was actually the snout of a boar, with thick tusks protruding on either side of it. The thick, shaggy hair that spilled from his head was a reddish-pink and very tangled, and two pointed, pig-like ears stood up straight from the top of his skull. However, his face below his snout was completely human, with a firm mouth and a strong jaw. In short, his was the face of a piglin hybrid, a very rare creature.

His pointed little ears twitched as he listened for whatever had caught the Voices' attention. After a moment, he heard a faint groaning coming from somewhere to the west. He narrowed his eyes.

Life!
Life!
Kill it!

Techno winced. "Seriously? No. But I will check it out, so quit your shoutin'." He turned left and began striding towards the noises.

He didn't have to walk far at all. The trees were clustered together so that sound could not travel well, which meant that he came upon the source of the groaning after only five minutes of walking.

Next to one of the oak trees, a pit had been dug and then covered up. It was a very common trap, but very easy to fall into if one wasn't careful. Technoblade knelt at the pit's edge. Someone was in there. A small figure, mostly hidden by the large black wings that grew from his back. An avian hybrid, apparently.

Those wings are broken.
He will not survive. Kill him now.
Put him out of his misery.

The figure stirred. Tried to raise itself.

Kill him.

"...please...help..."

He is in pain. Do you know how to fix wings?
Break his neck. It will be painless.
Give him death.

"Stop tryin' to pacify me." Techno grunted, scowling as he examined the rough sides of the pit. He could get down, and possibly even back up again, if he tried.

Give us death!
Kill him!
Break his bones!
Spill his blood.
Give us blood!
Blood!

"Shut up!" Techno slid down into the pit. Whoever was in there, he could not bring himself to kill them in the state they were in. The wings were broken at the base, from the looks of it. They lay floppy and disjointed as Techno tried to lift the person. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair before the stranger stiffened and tried to push away.

"Please...please don't...I can't..."

"For heaven's sake, be still!" Techno barked. "I'm tryin' to save your sorry skin, so stop wrigglin' and let me work." He glared at the limp body before him. It was going to be devilishly hard work to get this man out of here without harming him further. He heaved a sigh. "Whatever I do, this is goin' to hurt. Do you understand me?"

Painfully, the man tried to get to his knees. His hands grabbed at the earthy sides of the pit as he sought some kind of handhold. But the effort only made him cry out as one of the wings shifted. He stopped, and Techno could hear him panting, ragged and irregular. Slowly, the man nodded. "I un...understand."

Kill him, Technoblade!
No matter what you do, he will not survive.
Cut his throat.

Techno knelt. Studied the man's position. "Alright." He said. "I'm goin' to try to lift you. Your wings will hurt you. But it's the only way you're makin' it out alive, got it?"

The man nodded again. He seemed to try to brace himself, but even that effort didn't last long. Technoblade put his hands under the man's arms, careful to avoid the area the wings grew from. "One, two, three." He pulled up.

The man's raw cry of pain pierced Techno's ears and made him wince. He carefully put the man over his shoulder, then turned to the easiest side of the pit to climb. He could feel the pathetic trembling of the body on his shoulder and wondered how much time he had before the man passed out. "Hold on." He said. "I'm goin' to climb."

His cape shifted as the man gripped it in both hands, his groans muffled now through clenched teeth. Technoblade scowled at the walls of the pit. "Okay. Here we go."

He was glad for his strength. And for the age of the pit itself. Old walls meant rough, root-ridden walls he could grasp and climb with less difficulty than if the pit had been newer. As it was, it took Techno a few sweaty, frustrated minutes to claw and scramble his way back up into the open air, where he carefully lowered his burden to the ground. The man lay panting on his side, eyes tightly shut and hands still gripping Techno's cloak.

Fine.
We guess we can take care of him.
All that effort when we could have just killed him.
Stupid piglin.

Techno ignored the Voices, focusing instead on better identifying the injuries of his new charge. He grimaced. Pits were a cruel way to trap a beast, let alone a person. There was no guaranteed kill on impact, unless one used spikes, which meant that whatever creature fell in could die a slow, lingering death. This man was lucky, in a way, that the Voices had heard his call for help when they did. His wings were the worst of his injuries, as Techno's cautious probing found, and it seemed like a relatively clean break...as far as he could tell.

You'll need a splint, dummy.
And bandages.
We have neither.
Oh well. We tried.

"Would you shut up?" Techno grumbled. He lifted his head to get a better look at the sky. It was very dark by now; the sun was sinking behind the horizon and...Techno sniffed. There was going to be rain. He growled again as he glanced about in search for a suitable shelter.

We could try the pit again.

"No." Techno snapped. "We won't." He undid his cloak and pushed to his feet, cursing his poor vision as he scanned the trees again. "Come up with somethin' better."

The Voices were silent for a while. However they soon pointed out a cluster of trees nearby which could technically provide shelter from the rain. The problem was getting their charge to it. Techno looked back at the man.

In the end, he managed to drag the man onto his back and half-crawl, half-scuttle his way to the trees, where he lowered the man to the ground again as carefully as he could. Now for a fire. Techno had to leave the man for a while to gather the necessary amount of wood to last the night. It was a bit of a rushed job by the time he was done, for the storm was getting closer much faster than Techno had first anticipated, but it would have to do. At least he managed, with the Voices' help, to find some leafy branches which could serve as additional protection from the rain. Technoblade ground his teeth in frustration at himself as he surveyed the haphazard structure. If he'd had more time...

The rain started falling. Techno closed his eyes and breathed in all the new scents that always awoke with a storm. The wet earth and grass, the worms that were about to get washed out of their holes, the soaked fur of some nearby badger, the water itself, and blood.

Oh right. His charge was still injured. Techno shook himself free of the meditative trance and crouched to enter the little shelter he'd built. Unlike Techno, the man was dry under the branches and leaves and the fire danced merrily beside him. Techno checked his pulse, noting with satisfaction that the man appeared to be stabilizing. Now to tend to those injuries.

Techno's knife snicked along some of the smaller pieces of wood he'd found, smoothing them into something that could serve as a splint. He sat opposite the stranger so he could keep an eye on his mood.

The man lay still, his blue eyes staring into the fire. His features were tight with resignation and pain. His blond hair seemed paler in the firelight, accentuating how ill he looked. His wings were stretched out behind him as Techno had arranged them, but from this angle the hybrid could hardly see them, which somehow made the stranger seem smaller than before.

"What's your name?" Techno asked, trying to distract the man.

Boring. Who even cares?

The man's eyes flicked to Techno just as the piglin's knife slid a little too far. Techno cursed and shook his hand. "You wanted blood?" He grumbled. "There it is." He stared at the cut for a moment, genuinely fascinated at the sight of his own blood welling up from the slit skin, before the man's voice brought him back to reality.

"My name is Phil."

Techno shot a glance at him. "How'd you fall in that trap, Phil?" He wrapped his hand in his cloak to staunch the bleeding.

"I...was looking for someone. I didn't even expect there to be a trap in these woods. No one's lived here for so long...." Phil's voice trailed off as his eyes began to cloud over with thick despair. "...I wasn't careful."

Techno leaned over, trying to get a better look at his companion. "Who're you lookin' for?"

Phil just closed his eyes.

Techno shrugged. "Whatever. Look, I'm almost done here and once I finish these, I'm goin' to try settin' your wings, so you may not want to sleep right now, okay? Unless you don't mind being woken up by splinterin' pain." He unwrapped his hand, checked it, and resumed his work.

"I've had worse." Phil murmured.

Worse? He thinks he's had worse?
We'll show him worse.
Rip his wings off. Tear them from his back.
He'll never fly again.
Shred the feathers from them.

Techno put his knife down. Slowly he began to rock back and forth, back and forth, as he tried to focus on anything except the Voices. Their commands were terrible.

Let us see his blood.
Rip his wings out. Let there be blood.
Blood.
Blood.
Blood!

"No. No. He's not-I'm not going to kill him. He-"

Who cares if he lives? We want him dead.
Give us his blood.

"No, shut up. Shut up! I'm not killin' someone who's in that much pain!"

He didn't see Phil's eyes fixed on him, the look of confusion and fear dawning over his face. He didn't feel the handle of the knife in his hand. He didn't hear the thunder, the storm still raging overhead. There were only the Voices. There was only the Hunger. There was only-

"HEY!"

Techno's head snapped to the right as he registered the voice. Phil's voice. The avian had pushed himself up just a little, supporting himself on his elbows. He was staring at Technoblade. At the knife, clutched in his trembling hand.

Techno dropped the blade. He covered his face with his hands. "I-I'm sorry, Phil."

He heard the sound of Phil dragging himself along the ground. "Stop." He ordered. "You'll hurt your wings-" Phil's hand rested on his knee.

Technoblade froze. Even the Voices went quiet. His hands dropped. "What are you doing?"

"Are you okay?" Phil's expression had completely changed. Instead of fear, concern and worry were in his face. The hand on Techno's knee did not move, did not even tremble. "Are you okay?" He asked again.

"Phil, get your hand off me." Techno growled. "I don't need your pity."

Thinks we need help, does he?

Techno shook his head rapidly. "That was your first question, Phil? Really? I could have killed you a moment ago, and your first question is 'are you okay'?"

Phil took his hand off. But he did not back up. "Yeah. It's my first question. And it still stands."

Techno huffed. "Like it's your business."

"Maybe it isn't." Phil nodded. "But maybe it shouldn't just be yours?"

Techno snorted, taking an older shirt of his out of his bag and starting the painstaking process of tearing it into appropriately-sized strips. "Yeah, well it is just mine. There is no one on this planet who could help me, even if I needed help." He added, glaring at Phil for a moment before resuming his task. "And I don't, so stop pretendin' to be concerned for me and go back to bein' depressed."

But Phil remained where he was. "Who were you talking to?"

Techno eyed him suspiciously. "Myself. Who else?"

"It didn't sound like you were talking to yourself, mate."

"Well I was, so leave me alone and go back to...to...whatever you were doin'." Techno struggled with the fabric. He wasn't really paying attention to either the shirt or Phil, because something stranger was occupying his attention right then: the Voices had fallen silent. For the first time in...how long had it even been? Why were they silent now?

Phil remained where he was, still watching Techno. The hybrid wrenched at the sleeve of the old shirt and felt it give with a satisfying rip. He glanced at Phil. "What?"

For a moment, Phil did not answer. His pale blue eyes searched Techno's red ones, but it was oddly difficult to read his expression. "Nothing." Phil replied. "Never mind." He began to push himself back to his place, wincing and grimacing the whole way. "My full name's Philza, by the way. Philza Minecraft."

The hybrid shrugged. "Technoblade. Most just call me Techno." He tore another strip out of the shirt. "I'll bind up your wings in a minute, okay?"

Philza nodded. "Sure, mate."

Techno eyed him again. Why was he so calm? What had he seen that made him...unafraid? He shook his head. Whatever it was, it wouldn't matter much longer, as he didn't plan on sticking around after helping get this guy back on his feet.

Rrrrrriiiiipppppp. Last bandage done. Techno crawled his way around Phil to where his wings lay sprawled all over the place. "I'm startin', alright?"

He saw Phil's hands clench. "Okay."

It took a while to set the bones. Mostly because Technoblade had very little experience caring for anyone. He was used to taking things apart, not patching them up again. But at last it was done, and Philza's body went limp with relief. "Thanks, mate." Phil said quietly.

Techno huffed again. "What's with the 'mate' thing? You weren't sayin' that before I almost stabbed you with my knife, so what gives?"

Sitting at Philza's back as he was, Techno could not see more than the faint suggestion of the smile that spread across the avian's face. "It's just something I say."

"Yeah right." Techno carefully made his way back to his original seat and poked at the fire with a stick he hadn't been able to use for splints. He glanced at Phil, puzzled by the look of peace on the man's face. Techno shook his head. Once this guy was healed enough to walk, he would become someone else's problem. And Technoblade would be free to roam again. Free to roam and kill and slaughter. He spun his knife in his hand. Already the Voices were muttering about violence and bloodshed, but much quieter than before. It was still a blessed relief.

Only...if he listened hard enough, Techno could a few Voices murmuring a new word, almost to themselves.

Philza.