Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

9

Sapnap's condition stays the same for the next day.

Skeppy counts how many days it's been since they set out, trying to pinpoint if there was anything that could've caused this sudden worsening.
He leans back against a sack of feed.

The first day we made our way out of the village, and then slept. It was uneventful.

Tubbo keels over laughing as Tommy tickles him mercilessly, prompting a groan from Sapnap.

The second day wasn't very eventful either. I showed him how to set snares... he went swimming...

The blond has his friend in a headlock, and they're both laughing despite the gruff and deadpan nature of Tommy's threats.

Third day...it started getting hotter. He can't be experiencing heatstroke, can he? But we built the shelter and...he was fine.

Skeppy sits up, almost hitting his head. He hadn't wanted to spend his time dwelling on Sapnap's illness like a mother hen, but...
He cares. And it frustrates him, this nagging sensation in his heart, a twisting splinter of concern. Because when you care about someone, they occupy your thoughts, and his thoughts are already crowded enough!

But the nagging goes on and on. He sits down on the back of the wagon, watching hills roll by.

Day four, we...met the caravan, right? Maybe he really did catch a cold from that dip after all? Doesn't...make sense though...

Skeppy twirls his hair through his fingers, hearing the teens shrieking and laughing as they play around with each other. The wagon comes to a stop, and the merchant calls back,

"Skeppy? Could you take a look at this and tell me if you can get it out of the way?"

Skeppy hops off the back of the wagon, and makes his way around to the front.
A large tree has toppled over the road, and Skeppy winces, shaking his head,

"Not easily, no. It'll take an hour at least to cut through it and longer to roll a section large enough for the wagon. If you're willing to wait that long, and someone else here has an axe, I can work on it."
The merchant calls on the rest of the crew, and one of them, a young man with wayward copper hair, does have an axe. They measure the wagon, and begin to line up where they'll need to start cutting.

"We need to make it wide enough to avoid catching the cloth," Skeppy murmurs, and the redhead nods, adjusting his measurements.
Soon, they're working at it, chopping; but it's slow work, given that usually it takes far less time to cut down a tree since the tree would fall over on its own.

Day six we...we didn't do much, after all that chaos it was a...peaceful day...

He's tense now, and swaying in the heat. A hand on his shoulder causes him to pause, looking over his shoulder. One of the other members of the entourage, a muscular woman, smiles gently and takes his axe from him.

"Go get a drink and rest. You look like you'll pass out," She laughs, and begins hacking at the log. Skeppy would've protested, but the moment he took a few steps, the dizziness he feels backs up her point. The redhead he was working with is also swapped out.
He feels helpless though, and not just because he's no longer working.

It's been a week. A week, without Bad, a week where Bad could have anything happening to him. Skeppy cringes to imagine the abuse he could be undergoing right now, even.
But Skeppy is restless alongside helpless, and his resulting solution is a nap.

Can't feel unproductive and frustrated if you're unconscious, he reasons.
He closes his eyes and forces himself to sleep, forces himself to leave this place.