Your only goal since you’ve got here is to survive, and if you’re lucky, maybe even escape. Every creature you’ve met in this alternate world speaks an unknown language that you only know bits and pieces of. Everything here is either fond of you, or wants to kill you.

Mr Hood is the latter. He can say he is fond of you. It shows with the way he keeps you out of danger, teaches you words, and acts around you.

Silently walking around in a tattered brown cloak that leaves nothing but dark, obscure shadow around his face, is the creature you know all too well to be Mr Hood.

His bloodied axe drags behind him, scraping the metal flooring of each foggy grey hall. He spots you easily, running away from something he assumes by how you are panting. As you sprint past, his gloved hand gently yanks you inside of a passing door, the same hand moving to cover your mouth. The thing chasing you scurried after, making an irritated screech once it cannot locate you.

He speaks, but you only make out, “Quiet. No talk,” in the same foreign language you struggle to understand.

“Talk, die. No die. No speak.” he repeats, his voice sounding like a dry rasp.

He holds you tight, so you cannot escape his grip. His other hand holds the handle of his axe, letting the blade lightly graze your ankle.