The Bull's Horns

Ch 18: Flight Lessons

Mumbo woke drenched in sweat and gasping for breath his lungs desperately needed. Terror gripped his heart as he scrambled to sit up, frantically looking around to figure out where he was. He was in his nest, at his base, on Hermitcraft. He was safe. His body took a moment to catch up that it had just been a nightmare. After he caught his breath, he pulled out his communicator to see the time, it was 5:31 in the morning.

He sighed as he realized how early it was and there was a slim chance he'd be able to get back to sleep, he didn't want to try to either. He put his com back into his inventory and took a moment to run his hand along all the different fabrics that made up his nest, absently trying to ground himself further.

Finally, he took a deep breath, heaved himself up, and crawled out of the nest to change his sweaty clothes and shower. It took a little longer than usual with how slow he was moving but he eventually got himself dressed and headed outside to get some fresh air. He moseyed across the mossy bridge he shared with Grian before firing a rocket to fly up to one of the avian's floating rocks. It was always so peaceful up there to nature watch and see how his neighbor's builds were progressing, it calmed his nerves with such a peaceful atmosphere.

The sound of wing beats made Mumbo's ear twitch and a flash of bright colors whizzed by. "Mumbo? What are you doing out so early?" Grian asked as he landed next to the bovine.

"Nightmare," He mumbled and busied himself by brushing his hand across the moss near him.

"Oh... Do you want to talk about it?" The other hermit asked softly as he took a seat and draped a wing over Mumbo's shoulders.

The bovine leaned into the warm embrace, resting his forehead on Grian's shoulder, and mumbled, "No."

The winged hermit hummed in acknowledgment and reached up a hand to card through Mumbo's hair. He gently started to scratch the bovine's scalp, and the hermit's eyes drooped as he started to quietly purr. The bird's hand drifted toward his horns as he lightly scratched, pausing to thumb the seam of where his horn attached. The avian's attention turned to lightly touching the other hermit's horns and where they met at his skull. It confused Mumbo as to why Grian was so intent on his horns at the moment.

"G, what 're you doin'?" Mumbo muttered sleepily but made no effort to move, he was comfortable.

"Just being curious." He said as he parted Mumbo's hair to see where his horns met his head. The bovine huffed a halfhearted chuckle but let Grian continue.

"Do they hurt?" Grian asked after a moment of pushing Mumbo's hair around.

"No." Mumbo didn't quite feel like getting into the semantics of his horns, slightly dozing as the avian messed around. Grian hummed at the answer and softly rubbed at where the hermit's horns met his skull.

"But it's so scarred here," The winged hermit commented quietly.

Mumbo felt his breath catch in his throat at the audible observation, a cold chill running down his back as tendrils of his nightmare crept back into his mind. He immediately felt uncomfortable with Grian touching his horns, afraid the avian might do something. Panic started to grip his chest and he quickly pushed Grian's hand away and pulled away from him. He pushed the wing off his shoulder, needing some space as he desperately tried to shave off the rising terror. "Mumbo?" Grian asked slightly alarmed but gave the bovine some breathing room. Mumbo couldn't find his voice as his breathing started to pick up, he could only pant and shake his head. Grian gasped and slightly cursed to himself as realized he accidentally triggered the other hermit.

"Mumbo, you're alright, you're safe here," The avian began babbling to try and distract the bovine, offering a hand to the other hermit. Mumbo took the offered hand and desperately clung to it as he struggled to get his breathing under control, his now racing heart pounding in his ears. "You're on Hermitcraft, with me and Scar and Xisuma and Doc," Grian continued to list all of the hermit's names, hoping it would help ground the bovine. Mumbo listened intently and let the avian's voice wash over him, helping drown out the cold panic that gripped him so tightly. Grian had nearly named all the hermits as Mumbo slowly calmed down. He was finally able to get his breathing under control and started to even out, his heart no longer pounding as fast.