Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

22

Skeppy draws in sharp breaths, shuddering. He hadn't been dreaming, he was just sleeping- but as he surveys the terrain around him, he feels like he had just had a nightmare, only to forget it. A smooth, oily voice lingers just outside of his memory, and he shakes his head, whipping his hair back and forth.

Whatever it was, it wasn't worth panicking over. He glances at Tubbo, who's still wearing his sweater, curled into a little crescent shape between the two balls of fur that are Ant and Fundy.

Ant fit into their group oddly well, and despite his eccentric personality, he's logical as well, helping them chart the path, and at the same time enthusing about different forms of navigation, citing stars, horizons, and landmarks as forms of such.
Skeppy's initial wariness of the shifter died down to a low smolder, and he grew amiable over the day of travelling. Ant really seems earnest and eager to get along, to the point of talking about almost anything he's asked about.

He probably divulged information he wasn't supposed to in his eagerness, his jittery chattering a soft background noise for Skeppy as they had walked.

The cat stirs, as though he could tell he was being thought of.
He reaches over to rouse Tubbo, ruffling his hair gently.

"Tubbo," he calls quietly, "it's morning, Tubbo."

The boy groans, rolling over a little bit, prompting angry sounds from both Ant and Fundy.
The two animals scatter to avoid being crushed, and Tubbo sits up, rubbing his eyes as usual before asking,

"It's still pitch black, Skeppy, are you sure it's morning?"

Skeppy sheepishly says,

"Yeah, five in the morning. I woke up and figured it wouldn't kill us to get a jump on the day. It'll start getting light soon."

This prompts a groan from Tubbo, but he obligingly begins to roll up his bedroll and help gather up their belongings from the campsite.

"We might get to the city today," he muses, "I hope Tommy is okay after that horrible bite that got taken out of him. He looked like death..."

Skeppy nods in agreement.

"It could get pretty badly infected if they don't get there quickly," he murmurs, and Ant transforms to ask sleepily,

"Talking about the poor kid who got his arm bitten? Yeah that looked terrible. He's going to need help quick."

Skeppy gestures for Ant to stand up and get ready to start going. In a few minutes they're on the road again, mist clinging to their skin and clouding their vision.

Ant grouches slightly as they walk along, their boots steadily getting damp from the grass.

"It's so wet out this time of the year," he mumbles, "The humidity is the WORST for my fur and it sucks as a human too."

Skeppy nods, agreeing with the shifter.

"And rainstorms!" Tubbo pipes, "It really stings my skin." Ant gives him a slight look, raising a brow.

"Rain hurts? It's unpleasant but that sounds like hail, dude."

Tubbo's expression freezes, and he hastily covers up,

"Raindrops at like, really high speeds kinda sting a little bit! I didn't mean they hurt, hurt, more like just make things a lil' numb or whatnot!"

Ant seems to take the explanation, nodding, and Skeppy let out a soft breath he wasn't fully aware he'd started holding.

Tubbo being from the Nether isn't necessarily a nail in the coffin or anything. Plenty of people are from the Nether and lead perfectly normal lives in peace with Overworld residents.