Existed

Mobs did not spawn where Scout existed. It was something thoroughly used, otherwise such a trek as this would surely be impossible. They would have hardly left Boatem before a lone skeleton would somehow pick out Scar and send him to a hearty respawn. Yet, it had nearly been two weeks and they were growing lazy and complacent.

Surrounded by friends and laughter, warmth from a fire and warmth from the company he held, Mumbo thought: 'Oh, It may be alright to be lazy for now.'

The sleepy occupants of the large eye crew remained generous and open minded. They supplied whatever resources were necessary, then went above and beyond. Bdubs had boasted time and time again about his famous Horse Course, further down the trodden path. He had assured the group that there, they would find animals ready to replace their tired horses. Bdubs had even implied the existence of surreally powerful and strong donkeys, or mules, which Etho had been breeding as of some time. 

The caravan received patches where necessary and multiple feathers removed from the slightly dusty interior. Keralis coated the blank canvas in layers of woven cloth, blocking out more light and making the entire wagon something to behold. Pearl returned, looking significantly more refreshed after a glorious night swimming in a warm lagoon. She had braided her hair back neat and tidy into two little crescent rolls that gave her an impish design. By the small smirking she threw their way, she was well aware of her hairstyle.

Onward the caravan rolled over bumps and rocks stamped under hooves. Each horse had an iron shoe nailed gently through the animal's foot, leisurely washed and covered in a shiny resin Mumbo thought looked a bit too similar to a manicure. Or a pedicure. Or a hooficure if he wanted to be specific. 

The horses were strong, well bred, and well trained. Bdubs would have shouted excitedly 'oh there's good stock from these ones!' or something similar. The man had always been the resident horse enthusiast, Mumbo was a tad frightened to think of how obsessive poor Etho must have gotten with his donkey-breeding.

Tango waved them goodbye, perched on a rooftop and waving a strip of fabric which may have been a mimic to that of a maiden wishing farewell to a seafaring vessel. Impulse of course responded appropriately, with his own dramatic waving of Mumbo's shirt (the only white thing on the wagon) and fake sobbing. Scout, somehow, slept through the entire ordeal.

The road south stretched. Serene times mixed in memory with the gentle images of birds flying and dolphin pods off the bay leaping in unison. Mumbo too found himself lulled into a relaxed state. Before he knew it, his eyes were drooling and he found his limbs quite heavy. He fell asleep to the passionate ramble of Bdubs explaining to Scar the benefits of botany and other shrub greenery.

When Mumbo next awoke, it was to a starry sky and a moon missing a sliver off one side. Miraculously the cart was still rolling, bumping away with golden hanging lanterns suspended before each horse head on long poles. Bdubs, snoring loud enough to rattle the floorboards, lay entirely oblivious to Impulse's gentle hand. The horses too appeared to not care for all the racket, marching onward at a steady pace.

"Oh, hey," Impulse whispered once his eye caught Mumbo's shifting form. "You were sleeping for a long while there- feel any better?"

"I didn't know I had been feeling off," Mumbo admitted. He shuffled, squirming out from below a thick dusty blanket. In the darkness it took too long to identify its colour not as a deep grey, but instead a dirty red. 

"Ah," Mumbo said, finally freeing himself from the red fabric. "I see Scout left then."

"Mm, he's somewhere," Impulse said passively. With one hand, the man gestured to the right where the mountainside was slowly fading into a sprawling landscape of trees. In the distance, only visible from their high altitude, Mumbo could see the glowing specs of light that dotted the southern swamp. Beyond that, somewhere, was the shared end destination.

The wagon creaked below Mumbo's weight. He bent himself crookedly, ducking below the canvas roof and clumsily stepped over both Pearl's body and Scar's sprawled legs. Bdubs snored near Impulse, who only chuckled in response. The seat at the front was large enough for many people to sit, the footrest hung low but it gave Mumbo the option to ignore it completed. He sighed in relief, stretching out his aching knees to dangle his bare feet above the trodden ground.

"I forgot what it felt like being so cooped up," Mumbo admitted.

Impulse shrugged, rolling one shoulder. He glanced skywards, a smile spreading across his face. "Mm, maybe. I always forget how nice it feels to keep moving. To keep going forward, never stopping. I think I could get too caught up in it If I tried to settle down."

Mumbo couldn't relate. He was afraid if he tried to always be moving- always grinding for resources or making something next- he'd be so overwhelmed he'd simply combust. He'd be one baked potato, or a messy one.

"These horses are fantastic," Mumbo said instead of addressing his personal work ethic.

"Aren't they?" Impulse said, "I can't believe they're still going. I always wanted to tease the shorty back there on his horses, but honestly? I'm impressed."

One horse, as if understanding, decided to chuff particularly loud. The other tossed its head, flicking one ear towards them.

"Dang, Bdubs you taught them English?" Impulse teased, glancing over his shoulder at the snoring man.

Bdubs said nothing, nuzzling deeper into his mossy jacket with a loud rattling exhale of relaxation. Mumbo found himself smiling at the serene sight.

"The little guy sleeps the entire night, If I didn't know better I'd guess he was part villager," Impulse stated, continuing with his mindless smalltalk. "Actually, I think he's a little too short for a villager."

"He certainly has the work ethic of one."

"Oh absolutely, I think he'd get too fed up eating bread all day," Impulse joked, chuckling softly.

The two settled into a comfortable silence. The horses continued onward, whining to one another softly. There were no phantoms in the sky as of yet, the moon still bright enough to see the path before them. After a long bout of thick trees on their steady mountainous descent, Mumbo found himself a bit nervous.

He hadn't heard Scout anywhere nearby. In fact, Scout clearly must have left some time ago. In the mountains, the creature could scale any sort of rocky outcropping with open ease. Normally they stopped for the night- but here they could be hours away. What if Scout needed them? What if something had happened? Impulse was a wonderful friend, but did he know Scout's limitations as well as Mumbo?

"So uh, when was the last you heard Scout?" Mumbo asked, trying his best to remain and appear casual.

Impulse smiled broadly, almost a self satisfied smugness oozing off of him. He grinned at Mumbo, clearly thrilled by Mumbo's poor tact. "I wondered when you were going to ask!"

Mumbo spluttered, choking on his words in a spectacular fashion. Impulse heartily chuckled, in no way cruel.

"Don't worry about it. If you're super curious, the man's been up there," Impulse explained, gesturing one thumb skyward.

Dumbfounded, Mumbo squinted into the sky. He couldn't see anything, and the night was quite bright. He could see the grey outlines of clouds and sparkling stars. There was no Scout to be seen in his perspective.

"No, you goof," Impulse scolded gently, "look further- on the wagon."

Mumbo rotated in his seat, craning his neck. Perched on top the covered wagon, a large feathered friend presumably watched the world around them. 

"Oh," Mumbo said rather dumbly. "I hadn't thought Keralis did that good a job at reinforcing that patchy thing."

"It's super impressive, granted I don't think Scout weighs that much, but the guy's been up there the entire night. I think he likes the height."

Scout ignored the two, craning his neck around. The enormous crooked talons had punctured through the cloth, although he somehow found a rib supporting the fabric and turned it into his personal roost. Some wings were partially open, flapping silently with instinctual demands to righten himself when teetering to far one direction. The other wings stretched on occasion, bathing in the moonlight.

It was an odd thing to see, especially after Scou- Grian's sudden open irritation with the sky. Here, he appeared at peace and quite enjoying the gentle breeze. 

"Anything exciting happen?" Mumbo asked, a little distracted by Scout's gentle movements.

"Eh, not much," Impulse confessed. "We passed a small group of sheep sleeping on the road, the horses scared them off but it wasn't a problem. We'll be coming up on the Horse Course soon- that's what Bdubs and Etho named it."

Mumbo admittedly hadn't been paying much attention to the name of their target. He knew that they were supposed to reach it before nightfall, but with so many Hermits in a closed space, ruckus always ran amuck.

So, the two settled in for the ride. Slowly, the trees fanned out and mountainous rock formations became rolling hills and open grassland. In the dark, a large building blazed warmly just ahead.

"There's the course," Impulse stated needlessly. "Wow, Bdubs wasn't lying, that's gorgeous!"

Mumbo himself was more intrigued by the random splashes of redstone scattered around. Large contraptions barely disguised into the shape of hay bales and other things. As they approached, Mumbo came to realise it wasn't so much a racetrack for horses to run on as it was an obstacle course whilst on a horse. Truly, he shouldn't have suspected anything otherwise.

Impulse steered the horses left, following the wooden sign and arrow dictating where to pull in. The road became a bit more bumpy, rattling the axles and startling Pearl into squeaking into awareness. The woman spluttered, mumbling grouchily in the back before readjusting and collapsing back to sleep.

Mumbo held tightly to his seat, disliking the way it bounced about in poor resemblance to any sort of shock support. Scar made beautiful works of art, but they were never exactly comfortable.

Gently, they halted. The horses knickered, stomping excitedly at the sight of the enormous stables and smell of horse manure. Impulse shushed them, leaping down from the wagon. Without the bulk and weight, the bench overcompensated and nearly sent Mumbo from his seat, cursing Scar's decision to use springs.

"Whoa, careful there!" Impulse whispered, voice nearly too loud. Mumbo gulped, swallowing down the choice words that almost burst free. With a hand for assistance, Mumbo found himself solidly on firm ground with a bit of wobbly knees. It took him a moment to find his footing, only then did Impulse wander to the front where the horses were stomping impatiently.

"I'm going to be honest…" Impulse whispered to Mumbo, "I don't know how to take this off."

"I- It's a bit of a puzzle isn't it?" Mumbo stated, finding himself quite bewildered. There were many clasps and buckles, bits of rope that hung quite loosely and didn't seem to have a purpose. It all looked confusing and complex- knowing Bdubs a good portion of the additional bits may very well be decorative. 

The two men stood, silently processing and digesting the enormous chore before them. One horse twisted its head to the side, pinning its ears back with a loud braying noise. It's lips flapped, flashing long teeth.

"Whoa there," said a relatively unexpected voice. Mumbo found himself once more nearly on his rear, caught at the last moment by a firm grip on his arm. Impulse swore, grasping one of the thick leather straps of the horse's harness whilst his other hand pressed against his heart.

"Etho!" Impulse hissed under his breath, looking sheepishly terrified. "Don't scare us like that!"

"Awe, but you looked so cute," the man teased. He winked once at Mumbo, red eye glowing like a redstone torch in the dark. "Don't worry about that mess, ole Bdubs likes to add all the glitter to the horses. I'll unhook them."

"Oh thank heavens, I didn't know where to start," Mumbo confessed, still feeling his heart pounding in his neck. "I reckon my hands wouldn't be steady enough for a single buckle."

"Oh, don't worry, I got it," Etho consoled. He steadily made work of the large clasps, swatting the horses onwards fondly. The two marched off in the most direct path towards the stables, as fast as they could to obtain water and fresh oats set out for them.

"Thanks, Etho," Impulse said. He smiled genuinely at the man, expressing his sincerity. "I forgot what it's like with horses."

"Yup," Etho said a little too brightly. "All big and gentle, then you get the ones so ferocious they could take on a creeper! But not those two guys, nah they're some of the nice ones. Bdubs stole them off me, it's nice to have them back."

"It was nice to have them get us here," Mumbo admitted, pointing towards the Swaggon. "I think we worked our one horse half to death!"

"Mmm, maybe," Etho said far too casually. He squinted at the swaggon, tilted his head and asked: "should we wake them up or just ditch them? I'm all for leaving Bdubs behind."

"Eh, we can just leave them," Impulse said with a far too sneaky smile. "Scar and Pearl can yell at us all they want, we were the ones that got us here! We deserve the beds!"

"I'm not arguing," Mumbo said, feeling just as tired as he sounded.

Morning came with the loud angry noises of Pearl shouting at a rather loud, frazzled Bdubs, and the cry of a rooster. 

This all was to say that the sleepy crew had awoken rather spectacularly to the sound and sight of a large chicken being thrust inside the swaggon. Scout, having vanished to explore his new environment and likely finding a new place to hide, left a large area for Etho to place poultry. The action was so effective, it not only awoke the three hermits but left Scar shrieking and running circles as the rooster attempted to chase him down.

"Etho!" Bdbus shrieked, pulling feathers from his hair. "Oh! When I get my hands on you!"

"You may need some help getting to my height there," Etho teased.

Bdubs shrieked once more, playfully lunging to tackle the taller man to the dirt. Pearl huffed, groggily rubbing her eyes as she stared at the sun miserably.

"Say, do you have any tea? Coffee? Snacks?" She asked, sniffling miserably. "I think I caught a bug from that wagon. Or a flu. Oh oh, the avian flu!"

"This bird wants to eat me!" Scar howled, swatting behind himself desperately. Jelly, entirely bored of the entire thing, continued to sleep on the driver's seat thankfully above any potential harm.

Mumbo glanced around, a tad worried at the lack of their feathery friend. Etho, having noticed Mumbo's not-so-subtle looks, rolled his eyes and pointed above them. Craning his head back so far Mumbo worried he might topple, he gazed upwards. The man had slept quite well in a beautifully ornate clocktower Bdubs had built directly into the stylistic challenge of the Horse Course. Strikingly, the hollow area behind the clock hands looked a tad more feathery than before.

"Don't worry about him," Impulse said, suddenly very close. So close in fact, Mumbo wondered if he'd need a new pair of trousers. "Scout's fine. Why don't you take the day to just relax- race a horse or something!"

"I- well I'm not so much one for racing-."

"After all the work Bdubs and Etho put into this?" Impulse scolded him teasingly. "Relax! I'll watch the big guy for you, maybe some racing is just what you need!"

Mumbo seriously doubted that. He felt far more comfortable on the ground with two feet firmly on dirt, not dangling uselessly at his side when a horse decided what to do. This wasn't a common opinion in his caravan of comrades, as it took very little persuasion before Etho, Bdubs, Pearl, and Scar were tearing up dirt and bits of grass under the sound of trampling hooves. Impulse had vanished during a small water break, claiming to want to see the elaborate noteblock monster that Etho had built to announce the start of a race. Mumbo too had some urge to see the contraption, but a nervous worry had yet to leave him.

Something about all of this felt nostalgic, although that didn't quite make sense. Mumbo felt a wistful sadness for it all- knowing somewhere in his heart that something important was coming to a close. Something he dreaded, and tried his best to ignore.

Yet, every day it loomed more and more. Every night, when a fire was lit and the group chatted about on log seats roasting bits of potato and steak, Mumbo wondered how long they all had left.

It took little time for the group to settle into a careless state of indulgent. It took less time for Mumbo to find himself relaxed in all ways he had nearly forgotten. He had missed the loud cartoonish laugh Scar let free in moments of odd surreal situations. He had forgotten the quiet giggles Impulse made when sneaking away from a well-made prank. He had forgotten the argumentative yet gentle nature of Pearl's warm admirable passionate self. He had forgotten many things, but perhaps it was alright to remember them once more.

"I refuse to believe you can breed super-donkeys," Pearl argued, waving her potato-on-a-stick violently in the air. "I mean, I don't think you can make a super-horse even."

"Hey! I have good stock!" Bdubs protested, leaping boldly to his feet. "You should see some of my jumpers! They're a five block jumper! That's all specially bred!"

Etho giggled, his eye glowing ominously in the dark. "Careful Pearl, you'll wind him up and he'll go for hours."

"Hard to imagine there's that much juice in such a little guy," Scar teased, giggling wildly when Bdubs spun to unleash his wrath in his general direction.

Impulse nudged Mumbo, trying to invite him into the conversation. Mumbo shrugged, his heart truly not in the right place. It still felt wrong, painfully sad despite all their efforts. The night was kind to them, gentle and special. The moon was waning towards that where they could forget it's growing existence. A campfire constructed lovingly crackled around their semicircle orientation, facing outwards across the rolling sprawling meadows that skirted along the sea. Beyond a certain point, there was no distinction in the darkness. You could not determine at what point land and water met, or where the horizon bled into cracked dirt and tall grass. Shadows stretched with long flickering tongues, and yet there was no fear or concern.

Mobs did not spawn where Scout existed. It was something thoroughly used, otherwise such a trek as this would surely be impossible. They would have hardly left Boatem before a lone skeleton would somehow pick out Scar and send him to a hearty respawn. Yet, it had nearly been two weeks and they were growing lazy and complacent. 

Surrounded by friends and laughter, warmth from a fire and warmth from the company he held, Mumbo thought: 'Oh, It may be alright to be lazy for now.'

They hadn't expected yet another escort on their way to the south. Bdubs, politely and loudly, had informed them that he had plenty of work to do on the horse course- yet he didn't want to send them off without a good stead. Etho had proudly connected a pair of strong muscular donkeys to the front of their caravan, not too subtly winking when one tried to take a bite out of Scar's hat.

"These are my pet projects," he stated far too smugly. He alone rode a donkey, offering one for the others to ride and to rotate through when the beasts pulling the wagon wanted moments of freedom along the path. Each donkey did resemble one another faintly, yet held differences. Mumbo thought his donkey was peculiarly fast- faster than the average horse.

"Well I'd say," Pearl muttered, safely seated in the driver's seat as she coaxed the large beasts to pull the wagon. "They're tricky, that's what they are. Dangerous at both ends."

"They can kick sideways actually," Impulse brightly informed them.

"Ah," Pearl corrected, "dangerous all around then."

Etho looked far too smug, giving his particular beast a happy pat on the neck. The donkey in return flicked its ears around, gnashing on the bit. Mumbo remembered distinctly one horror story he knew, in which a horse had rather proudly eaten an entire chicken. He wondered if one of the donkey's would be satisfied eating a wolf.

They pranced onwards. Dust stirred and shifted into boggy soil. The heavy stink of the swamp rose and slowly their advancement stilled. The wagon wheels tore through the sludge, at times not turning and instead carving deep furrows. Etho appeared unperturbed. He clicked his tongue and the donkeys pulled with new determination. Impossibly, the sweating panting beasts pulled the caravan with brute strength and determination.

"Dude," Impulse stated, jaw dropping with sheer awe. "This is amazing."

"I can't believe he did this," Mumbo stated. "I mean- I feel like he just revolutionized the donkey breeding industry. Is that an industry?"

"I have no idea," Impulse said.

They carried on, gentle and steady. The closer Mumbo came to the End Portal, the more it became apparent that someone had worked quite hard at redecorating it. What had once been quite a humble little structure vanished under the impressive jagged archways and copper facades. A dirt path had been excavated, remade with deepstone bricks that clattered below each donkey's hoof. The plant life existed now in carefully crafted decorative side gardens. Everything gleamed against the purplish hue of deepslate brought to sunlight. 

"Well, this looks a little different," Impulse said casually. He peered around, unbothered by quite a heavy redecoration. "Someone must have spent some time on this."

"Well, I'll say," Pearl agreed, squinting at a whitish patch decoratively perched on the side. "Are- are they using coral? Dead coral?"

Indeed, dead fan coral had been placed. In fact, the entire decorative front appeared so overwhelming, Mumbo hadn't even noticed the grand design. It wasn't something he'd make- well perhaps the long spindly vaguely mechanical supports he could fit in- yet somehow it did look quite nice.

"Uh, guys?" Scar asked, perched atop the wagon, sitting on the passenger platform next to Pearl who held the reins loosely. "Is it just me or uh…does this all just scream Doc to you?"

"Actually, Ren is part of the Octagon too," Etho stated. The man bounded ahead, absolutely unbothered by the land transformation.

"Oh no, this is the work of the Octagon?" Pearl asked, eyebrows raising high. She peered around once more, skepticism oozing into her facial expression. "If they rigged something to explode, I'll be really mad. A really mad pile of goo, and I'll still kick ya' somewhere."

"No goop," Etho promised, looking amused. "They actually wanted to decorate for a while. The previous hole down was a bit too small…and Doc maybe wanted to see Scout again."

"Ah hah! I knew he was up to no good!" Scar crowed, pointing dramatically upwards at the sky. "That evil man just wants to steal our friend again! Oh don't worry Scout, we'll stop him!"

"He isn't stealing Scout, he just wants a peak," Etho corrected. He pointed to the side where the path veered and split. "Over there, I got a message that we go left here to get to the beds for the night. Otherwise this just goes down in a really slow spiral to the portal."

"I'm good to get off the donkey," Impulse agreed, wriggling eagerly. "I mean, no offence to the donkey but my thighs are killing me."

Mumbo too believed his bottom would be bruised. He had been riding for so long, he wasn't sure he could stand. Impulse hadn't the same body build as Mumbo. Impulse was made short and stocky, he looked rather miserable with his legs spread so far his thighs were nearly parallel to the road. Clearly, after a period of time, Impulse simply couldn't go on.

The caravan creaked itself along, slowly pulling into a decorative dramatic little hostel. A hitching post had been set up, a strange mix of steampunk and western. In some portions, Mumbo could almost feel the decorative flair of IJevin poking through the futuristic layer of Rendog and Doc. It was a confusing sight- although not an unpleasant one.

"Oh, thank Notch," Impulse groaned. He slumped to the ground, sitting heavily on the dirt. He sat there, staring somewhere further than the horizon. He confessed, quietly and reverently, "I don't think I can stand."

The donkey scoffed, tossing its head and stamping one foot indignantly. Etho, absolutely unbothered by the hours of riding, casually collected the lead and led the creature to its corral. One free, the donkey immediately went to roll itself in the fine grass, itching the feeling of Hermit from its back. Returning to where he left both Mumbo and Impulse, he offered one hand to Impulse.

"You okay down there?"

"I think I tore my pants, and myself." Impulse said almost wistfully, "I think...I'm going to just...go lay down."

"You sure?" Mumbo asked, chewing on his lip nervously. "I mean- I can come with you-."

"No no, I'm fine," Impulse said, wincing badly as he stood on wobbling legs. "I uh, I think I'd rather fly next time."

Etho hummed a flat tune before assisting him with directions to the nearest bed. The two men watched as Impulse limped away, making small noises of embarrassed pain. 

"Huh," Mumbo said, rather uncertain how to feel about the sight.

"Some people just can't handle the open road," Etho said with a shrug. "He'll be fine. Not his pants, he'll need new ones."

"Alright Hermits!" Scar shouted, standing on the wagon's seat. The wagon had yet to unload, instead rolling and settling carefully on the path beside them. Both Pearl and Scar had watched Impulse limp off, yet had some degree of respect to not acknowledge it for the man's own pride. Scar stood atop the driver's bench of the wagon, he used one hand on Pearl's head to keep himself steady, ignoring her rather pinched expression. "Time to find a bed! I am exhausted!"

"Aww, you'll miss the cookout," Etho teased, winking his red eye. "I heard we're going to have guests even. I was going to save you a steak."

Scar hesitated, then yelped as Pearl playfully pushed him. Stumbling, Scar fell off the wagon into a conveniently placed pile of hay, landing uninjured but very surprised. 

"I like a cookout," Pearl said innocently before winking. She giggled mischievously, her trickster spirit burning brightly. "Are you going to cook for all of us? Eh? Some nice chicken? Maybe some shrimp on the barb'e?"

Etho laughed a little nervously, taking one step backwards. He lifted both hands defensively, fluttering his fingers. "Well, uh, I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm that good of a cook. Last I heard, Ren was the grill master."

"Aww, he isn't here?" Scar asked from a much lower placement on the ground. "I wanted to try some dog-tastic steak. Can you put in an order for take-out for me?"

"Sorry Scar," Etho said "Only Doc stuck around. No steak for you."

For those who were not used to Scout in any way, the sudden presence of a large feathered creature was quite terrifying. Not in the sense of impending doom, but more in the sudden shock to awareness of wind, noise, and a vast creature far too close far too quickly. 

Etho, for all his hijinks and calmness, inhaled sharply and rose suddenly to his feet. Doc unfortunately spluttered a collection of foreign words and rocked backwards on his seat- a fallen log placed around the fire, ending up in the dirt. Iskall, who had chased Etho lovingly on the back of a donkey from the shattered savannah, fell sideways in silent bafflement.

Xisuma made a lackluster noise of alarm, although the degree of which rivalled the sudden surprise of having rain splash into your eye- not the arrival of the feathery creature.

"Ah, Scout," Xisuma greeted pleasantly with one hand pressed against his chestplate. "You gave me quite a fright, my friend."

Still laying on his side, Iskall blinked both eyes quickly. His cybernetic implant gave a quiet little wrrr with the movement, flashing bright green like a taunting firefly. He spluttered, exasperatedly crying: "I- you- a fright?"

"Dude," Doc said, clambering slowly back atop his stump. "You're scary, man."

"I think you're doing that on purpose," Etho accused, squinting teasingly at Scout. "Naughty bird, aren't you?"

"Ah, actually, he prefers pesky bird," Scar corrected, holding a kabob of chicken dainty between both his hands.

"I like calling him a rubbish chicken," Pearl said unhelpfully.

A huff of sudden exhale filtered through Xisuma's respirator, venting into the open air. Behind his visor, the corner's of the man's face crinkled with obvious laugh lines. The man waved awkwardly, moving as if his suit was fitted too large for his body. "Well, wonderful to see you! I hope you are doing well?"

A shuffle of feathers rattled across Scout's body. Each wing- some enormous like appendages fit for the End Dragon, other's as small as a sparrow growing from odd locations across the creatures skin, rattled and flapped with one movement. Collectively, a disorienting mesmerizing kaleidoscope of shadows and reflective orange firelight glimmered across iridescent purple. Then, with almost coy shyness, Scout said: " Yes."

"Oh? What's this?" Pearl asked, voice ascending into playful territory. "Are we having a good day, then? A little bit talkative are we?"

Iskall had never seen something with no obvious face give such an expression of disappointment. Doc chuckled, tossing his head back and forth, flashing his horns without conscious choice. "Oh man, you're so bratty now."

Scout huffed, wriggled once more, and flared the hindmost wings upwards. They spread skywards in open display, arching high like a peacock behind him. The purple visage glimmered faintly, echoing with distant speckles like the infinite stars in the skies above.

Then, to many onlooker's confusion, both Iskall, Doc, and Etho all shuddered and looked away. Iskall shook his head, rubbing at both mechanical and organic eyes, repeating what sounded like neigh. Doc chuckled uncomfortably, tossing his horns and hissing below a rumbling baritone noise deep in his chest. Etho grimaced and said simply: "ugh, don't look at us like that, mister."

Scout hastily dropped his wings, folding them away. He said after a pause with a more discernible voice: "Sorry, sorry."

"Oh, don't apologize," Etho argued instantly, "that's my gig. We just weren't expecting to be you know, uh, flashed."

Iskall, on cue, moaned miserably: "my eyes! My poor eyes!"

"Uh, pardon me," Mumbo said a little stiffly "but Scout is wearing a blanket, quite a nice blanket if I do say so myself."

"Yeah!" Scar argued, pointing his kebob. "And he's got feathers! You don't go around claiming Jellie is flashing you!"

"That's because Jellie is a cat," Doc said with open exasperation. "And Scout literally flashed us! Dude! How many eyes do you have?"

Pearl straightened, her joking expression wilting. "You saw them?"

Mumbo felt something wilt in his chest, tugging downwards. Iskall gave a hasty nod, mumbling to himself in his home language. Mumbo knew he shouldn't be upset- it was only natural for Scout to do things like that. Yet, the more Scout behaved in such ways, it felt like Grian slid further below the surface.

"Yeah, they uh, pop up sometimes," Etho said awkwardly. "I mean, you all can't see it. They're in a different light spectrum."

"Hold on here, mister apologies and ice-skating," Scar accused boldly. Etho blinked quickly, unsure how to respond to that title. Scar ignored him, continuing with his accusation: "Are you meaning to say that you can see all those eyeball things all the time?"

"Err- yes?"

Mumbo blurted impulsively: "and you never said anything?"

Etho gulped, giggling nervously before confirming their disbelief. "Ah, uh…no?"

"It's like, we made these to see things normal people can't," Doc tried to restate. He slapped Etho on one shoulder, nearly knocking the willowy man to the ground. "Like, I made my eye for a reason."

"Is it the same light as the end rods?" Pearl asked suspiciously. She glanced between the two, worrying one lip between her teeth. "When Scout was in the box. You used an end rod and the eyes appeared."

"Exactly like that," Iskall agreed, finally recovering from his apparent run in with indecent exposure. "Players do not, ah, often look in that spectrum. It would be odd."

"Huh," Mumbo said. "So…what else can you see?"

"Flowers look very cool," said Iskall.

"What I'm curious to see," Xisuma stated, pointing his fire-poking-stick towards Scout who had taken a partial sprawl on the ground. The man had his visor on, yet somehow gave the impression of squinting his eyes. Continuing his previous statement, he said: "Can Scout here copy one of your eyes? I mean, he has so many. Surely they must have come from somewhere?"

"He does have some ability to replicate," Doc agreed. He glanced around the group, observing the confused expressions. Stamping one foot in a small anxious movement, the man chuckled low in a rasping rumble indicative of his self-insecurity. "I mean, come on. Do you not remember when the Wither's escaped? The dude looked like a freaking dragon for a moment there. And- and the eyes change and move. And what about the fact he's smaller than he used to be?"

"He is smaller," Iskall agreed, tilting his head. He tapped his chin with near comical movements, overdramatic to the very core. "Hmm, still Scout. I wonder if he can copy Etho's eye, since it's the most organic of all of ours. I mean, it would be pretty cool to have mine but we can't all be epic"

"I'm also the most advanced," Etho teased.. He looked at Iskall with a smug expression, visible through his mask. 

Scout huffed, feathers shuddering along his body. He adjusted, shifting uncomfortably as if the soft dirt was now too hard for his sore bones. After a moment of attempting to find a more relaxed position, he huffed a loud whistle through presumably a nostril. Then, he opened his wings slowly with obvious care not to startle any of the Hermits once more- stretching to the furthest they could go.

At some point it became a spectacular sight. Each feather somehow glimmered uniquely, yet still within a spectrum of his general colour scheme. Occasional little eyes winked from below thin vanes and quills. Some more vibrant than others, some glimmering like little beetle shells or gemstones. Then, simultaneously, the eyes all squinted and Scout stretched further, to the point his body vibrated and Mumbo imagined the sight of a large yawning mouth. It shifted from regal into something Xisuma would generally consider: derp.

"Oh my, what big wings you have," Scar muttered under his breath, giggling quietly at his own joke. Scout, overhearing the joke, conveniently stretched to smack him gently on his cap.

"Naughty naughty," Etho teased with a small huff. Pearl rolled her eyes- it was only natural to retaliate to such a blatant thing.

Finally comfortable, Scout curled himself into a spectacularly pointy loaf. Wings covered his front body, some feathers less angular and more…decorative. In fact, quite a few feathers looked remarkably different under closer examination.

"Scout," Mumbo asked quite spooked by the realization. "Are those…peacock feathers?"

Scout turned to look at his friend, taking an increased amount of time to process. Eventually, the creature puffed proudly. He awkwardly attempted to splay his wings, finding it now impossibly considering his new position.

Scout paused, considering. The metaphorical cogwheels turned, dozens of actions filtering through his brain.

"To get up, or to stay comfortable," Xisuma narrated with a small chuckle, "what a difficult decision, my friend."

Scout huffed, more of a scoffing clatter before an accompanying whistle like a very irritated parrot. With a squawk, and a bit of a self-satisfied chirp, Scout shook his upper body as if shaking off water.

Iskall squeaked, jumping to his feet. Clicking and whirring, his eye shifted like the diaphragm of a camera. Doc inhaled as well, eyebrows lifting before he spluttered in incredulous laughter.

Etho simply blinked quickly, his red eye glowing something brighter in the darkness, a crimson glow amidst the orange fire. "Huh," he said simply, resting his chin on one palm.

Mumbo wanted to ask, feeling anxiety grow. Yet, before he could say anything- Scout chirruped proudly and presented what appeared to be a small feathery plume. Initially white, the feathers rapidly shuddered- almost organic like little purpling tentacles from a small octopus. They opened from a tendinous spiral, unveiling like a bouquet of rosebuds. Soft purple and violet shifted, altering through a spectrum of light before settling on emerald green and something else. Little eyes opened in half-lidded slits, then fully open and blinking.

"My gosh," Pearl gasped, stunned. Scar spluttered, unable to say actual cohesive words yet did attempt to make some sort of noise. Mumbo felt his anxiety putter out, something else overwhelming in his chest.

"Oh you cheeky little brat," Xisuma said before shaking his head. The feathers, miniature and stunted but undeniably peacock-esq sprouted from around Scout's head and neck akin to a halo. The eye-spots were not purely decorative, instead shaped by living eyes, some of which were instantly recognizable- one in particular with horizontal goat pupils.

"That's creepy," Iskal l stated, before guffawing as an eye shifted to stare directly at him, human yet glowing a fluorescent green. Unable to copy anything mechanical, Scout had settled on a humanoid eye with an impossible colour. Mumbo found one staring directly at him, unblinking and dark and uncomfortably him.

"That's remarkable," Etho confessed, caught in a staring match with a red swirling eye that clearly was determined to win their impromptu battle. "Xisuma, is he shapeshifting?"

"Something different, I fear," Xisuma stated, smiling politely at the two eyes not quite settled on anything- shifting weirdly between a black writhing void and a normal blinking eyelid. "My friend, do not bother with me. You might just give yourself a headache."

"That's insane," Doc marveled, squinting at the goat-eye which blinked at him boldly. "Dude, you're so cool."

"I see why you're such good friends," Iskall told Mumbo directly, fondly waving towards Scout with one hand. "Gah, what a little menace, how has your redstone survived?"

"Oh, I'm not sure it all has," Etho said a little too easily. 

"Oh it definitely hasn't," Pearl confirmed instantly. "Grian's always been like this."

"Nowhere is safe," Scar agreed, winking at his mirrored eye.

There was something familiar about the way Scout puffed up, feathers on his chest bristling outwards proudly. Mumbo had never associated Grian with a bird before- when he knew the man (human, cheeky, but undeniably without feathers) he had no characteristics Scout did. For reasons mostly related to his mental health, he had considered Scout and Grian two separate people.

Yet, as time started to blur, it was difficult to do so. It was easier to think of Scout simply as Scout, but there were aspects which had infected him. Ways that Mumbo could imagine Grian's little laugh, his impish grins when behaving mischievously. He could nearly hear the unique giggles and wild howling laughs when he truly found something funny. Now, he could almost see the way Scout's body shook and feathers trembled. The way he would flex and curl his talons when thinking of something sassy. The way he would easily reach out with a wing, or knock him aside with one appendage instead of a hip.

It was harder to differentiate the two, and in some ways, that terrified Mumbo.