Archive of Our Own

There was something wild about Etho. 

Maybe his twitching, vulpine ears heard everything through the low hum of tinnitus. Maybe the warm tail that moved like a third arm as it assisted him with his many redstone projects. Maybe it was his lanky form that towered over many of the hermits or the scarlet glass eye that watched like the moon above. 

Whatever it was, there was an itching in Etho’s bones, a natural urge to wander.  

It might have been the wonder in those cold winters, where he was often cooped up inside under the glare of his rich parents like a lapdog wanting to go for a walk. Playing chess and failing over and over again to his older brothers, reading books with fancy outdated words and no pictures, playing the boring flute and how the tunes scratched his ears like an angry cat. Nothing exciting on those extraordinary days like that. 

There were moments, quite a few of them in fact, where he slipped out of their grasp to explore the world around him. Venturing into the woods, making small structures from the snow outside his mittens, catching snowflakes on his tongue. All those things his parents banned him from for no reason. 

It was those moments that made him feel free and frankly, even safer than when he was with his parents. To be free from when they found him having fun, to be free from when they fussed at him for what could have happened out there but never did. He was thankful to be out of their reach, disowning the daunting family business and making his own path. 

Snow hadn’t reached the server yet, but he could tell in his bones. The chill crisp of the air, the way the wind picked up, the cloudiness above that forewarned of something. 

Gem loved snow, Beef loved snow, he loved snow. Everyone on the server loved snow. 

Some played in it. Some enjoyed it from afar in the warmth of their bases. Still, snow was a change-up, a sudden surprise that wasn’t too unwelcome. 

A fitting way to say goodbye to a server he loved so much. 

Etho didn’t hate Hermitcraft. In fact, he loved it. The server was a place that welcomed him with open arms when the rest of the world closed their doors. A place to work on redstone, to be with friends he liked, to be himself. 

But lately, a certain ennui followed him around like a shadow. One he couldn’t shake off, even a couple weeks after the server started.

Etho usually had ideas from the very start. Ones he would write about as they travelled from season to season so he wouldn’t forget. But lately, he was blocked, almost like his brain couldn’t function there. All of his old ideas had been used up and no matter what he did, no muse came to him. He felt utterly useless. 

It didn’t help that his age was catching up with him. He used to be so spry, so full of energy and spite that it would confuse those around him. Now, he was getting older, his bones longing for more than just rest but relief. His time was over, and newer hermits seemed to take his place. Grian was the first, stepping up when Etho wasn’t there to cause more chaos. He pulled Mumbo and Scar into it, and later Gem and Pearl came along to join them. 

What made it worse was how the world seemed to move on without him. Everyone continued what they did the season before, almost as if the end of the world didn’t stop them. 

Doc rambled about his great redstone plans, ones of worldeaters and hiveminds, whatever that meant. Grian clung to Mumbo and Scar like birds of a feather, plotting what troublesome pranks they should cause next. Joe and Cleo still bickered back and forth, eccentric metaphors and obscure pop culture references against sarcastic comments and cynical irony. Gem still challenged every hermit to a duel like an egotistical cavalier, always finding a way to win. 

Etho wouldn’t change it for the world, but he needed a change. 

His bags were already packed up, a strange residue from the season before. He didn’t remember packing up that season, only panicking about the disaster yet to strike. His last tangible memory was looking around for Bdubs but not finding him in time. Guilt clouded his mind as the moon swallowed them whole, submitting himself to a force he couldn’t stop. 

Then he woke up. 

Huddled next to Bdubs, almost as if the universe put them there as compensation for letting their love story end so tragically. Apparently, the universe loved them enough to make them reunite, if only for a moment. 

Etho hated leaving Bdubs, the second half of his soul, to a server who didn’t love him the way he did.

He had just fallen asleep, cuddled next to Etho’s lanky body as if he were a body pillow. Etho didn’t budge, not until Bdubs was snoring without a care in the world, drool pooling from his mouth as always. Once he was asleep, there was nothing that could wake him up. A loud, fiery explosion could happen nearby and he wouldn’t move, not even a centimeter, unless he needed to roll over in his sleep. 

That would be his last memory with Etho, at least until they met again somewhere. It wasn’t a bad memory to have. Bdubs loved sleeping and Etho, as prickly and uncuddly as he could be at times, tolerated it. 

He knew Bdubs would have plenty of questions if they ever bumped into each other again. Questions that would ruminate in his mind, thinking up answers that sounded right, but none sounded good enough for him to believe.

And so, Etho wandered. 

He left the unfinished monolith that Bdubs had already called home, walking aimlessly around the server with a quickening pace. A perfect time to take in his surroundings, to stay vigilant of any unfriendly zombies that wanted to chomp into his flesh. 

It had only been dark for an hour or two, but it was as dark as the dead of night. The moon, a normal size now, hung mysteriously in the air. Clouds gathered like dark schools of fish, swimming around elegantly as they hovered over the eerie trees. The occasional bird flew up above him, a lonesome hunter in the night, nothing more than a silhouette soaring above. 

Etho held his sword tightly, one he crafted out of boredom and a need for protection, but nothing else. One that would help him survive out there, at least for a little bit until he managed to find a place to repair or replace it. There were plenty of small shopping servers around. He’d ventured through many throughout his life, collecting little objects that either gave him joy or helped him survive. 

He needed to get to a Nether portal before the others found out. 

Most hermits escaped through Nether portals for normal activities throughout the server. Trading with piglins, gathering blaze rods from fallen blazes, collecting netherite for armor and tools. Things of that nature that benefited the server in one way or another. 

But sometimes, on the odd occasion, a hermit escaped. Tempted by more that life had to offer, just like himself. 

Etho knew he hadn’t been the first one. He had seen a hermit go through a Nether portal before and not return by the start of the next season. Etho never knew who it was. It was so far away and his vision wasn’t as clear as it was when he was younger. Besides, quite a few hermits left that season, all of them looking pretty similar, so he couldn’t be sure who it was. 

But Etho was an icon. They would notice if he-

“Ladders!” 

Etho was startled by a voice calling him a dumb nickname from years past. He turned around instinctively, holding his sword tightly, prepared to swing it to defend himself if necessary. 

Instead, Etho noticed that friendly face, spinning around to find those soft eyes staring back at him. He had changed out of his apron into a plaid shirt with dark pants with an old woolen cap upon his head, settled between his shortened horns. 

Beef. 

He was always a beacon of light in Etho’s world, a ray of sunshine, if not a little misguided. He followed the beat of his own drum, which led him to the most awkward of situations. Still, he was loyal. He followed Etho to the ends of the earth, and then some. 

But as time went on, they had drifted apart over the last couple seasons, with Beef hanging with some of the more reserved hermits who were less likely to cause trouble. He especially took a liking to Hypno, which he showered with love and kindness at every chance he got. He was quiet and reserved, a far cry from Beef’s eager and clingy personality. Affectionate feelings had lingered between the both of them, especially after their podzolic alliance during the Turf War. The war drove deep but fixable wedges between everyone else, but in a weird way, it linked them closer together. 

Hypno would make a great replacement for Etho. After all, he had already woven his metaphorical spell over him. Probably a literal one at some point, if Etho were to guess. He never knew what they did together in the cabin and frankly, there was a part of him that didn’t want to know.

More the reason to be jealous of Beef. He was closer to another hermit that season than he was to him, and that stung more than it needed to. 

“Hey, where ya headed?” Beef asked innocently, noticing the backpack over his vest and the adventurous look in his eye. “You look like you’re going somewhere.” 

Etho couldn’t tell him the truth. If he did, he would try and convince him to stay. If he didn’t, his heart would break. Etho knew Beef was a sensitive soul, just like everyone else did. 

So he just… didn’t.

“Oh, just heading over to Doc’s base.” Etho responded, closing his eyes and flashing a fake smile under his mask, almost as if Beef could see it. “Seeing if there’s anything I could do for him.” 

Yes, Doc. The perfect scapegoat, pun intended. 

Beef and Doc hadn’t seen eye to eye for a while. Every time Etho had seen them interact, there was always some sort of stupid argument. They butted heads, clashed horns, bellowed and bleated out curses and slander towards the other. A part of him knew why they fought, but no one was willing to repair the bridge that still burned between them. 

He knew Beef wouldn’t follow him there. By the time they collided again, Etho would have already been gone. Where, he wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be there. 

“Oh, okay.” Beef looked away with a sad disappointment, ears sinking to the sides of his head. 

Etho didn’t want to leave on a sad note with Beef. It was the same way he left Doc on before… well… 

He didn’t want to think about that. 

“I promise we’ll do something later.” Etho lied between his teeth, disguising it as a cheerful oath he was bound to break. “Maybe we could build something?”

Etho could hear a brief chuckle in Beef’s chest. “Sounds good to me. I guess I’ll see you back here tomorrow, right?” 

No. He would not. 

“Yeah, buddy.” Etho chuckled nervously as he fibbed, masking it well with a raised hand, almost like a soft wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“You too!” Beef waved back with a spring of excitement, quickly running back to his base. “Good night, Etho!” 

Once Beef was out of sight, Etho sighed, letting all the tension run past like a flock of sheep breaking through a broken gate. He didn’t deserve a sweet, innocent soul like Beef. Not one who trusted him like a lamb he knew he had to slaughter.  

Etho felt bad. He felt so, so bad.

Still, he kept on moving. He strolled around the server, looking at all the new builds that were just in the beginning phases. Small structures that stood like broken, deserted castles in reverse, a lost empire being rebuilt. 

It wasn’t until he noticed the enticing glow of a nearby Nether portal that he hesitated. 

He knew Xisuma would be alright. He had welcomed Etho before, back during Season 3 after he and Doc swooped in and saved Joe’s life, although Doc did the hard part. He had welcomed Etho back again just before Season 7 started when they found him on that island. If he ever were to return, Xisuma would welcome him a third time. He had no ill feelings towards him. In fact, all Xisuma felt was a deep respect, like two sparring partners who fought only with flimsy fencing foils. 

Speaking of sparring, Gem would move on quickly. She had only known him for a single short season. There was no way she would get too attached to him unless she was some lovestruck fool longing for attention. Besides, Etho didn’t need his paparazzi to follow him around. She had Pearl, who was a lot like her. Young, female, protective of each other. She would survive as if he never even existed. 

His mind drifted to the other hermits. Cleo would snark on somebody else, exchanging verbal and sometimes physical blows. Grian would hang out more with Scar and Mumbo than they did before. Tango would continue to play with redstone alongside Zed and Impulse. 

Hermitcraft would continue to grow, to mature and change without him. It had done so before when he missed so much. It was always when he turned his back that friendships shifted, alliances morphed and the world tilted on a wobbly axis. 

The server didn’t need him and he certainly didn’t need the server.

Etho didn’t realize how long he had been staring into the swirling essence of the portal until a white flake landed on his clothes like a speck of baby powder. 

Snow. 

He liked snow, but his soul longed for the warmth of the Nether. He longed for the tangy scent of brimstone, the sizzle of the ground beneath him, the cooing of ghasts above that floated carelessly in a fiery prison. Something to thaw his frozen thoughts before he turned completely into ice. 

Without another thought, Etho stepped through as a blanket white as bonemeal covered the ground.  

~~~~~

It was sometime later when Etho found himself back in the company of other players. 

There was a small market, almost like some sort of festival he found himself in. There were players of different types, selling wares that interested him in different ways and providing an atmosphere that gave him all sorts of feelings.

Withdrawal at the loud sounds of the crowd and various salespeople ranting and raving about their own products. Repulsiveness at the texture and smells of different foods he saw being eaten. Wonder at the strange objects being passed around. Curiosity at the different outfits and species that lurked around every corner. 

It felt like a circus of some sort. One where bears balanced on balls, monkeys trapezed through the air and lions leapt through burning hoops. This time, with fire only in their voices and the only bouncing coming from the pitter-patter of little feet as they hung close to their mother’s side. 

Most of the stands were boring, but it was a good chance to find something to eat. He had been living off little snack foods since he left the server and his supplies were getting low, so it was as good a time as ever to stock up. 

Etho looked around the festival until he noticed something that caught his eye. 

It was a stand, but not one for food. Instead, it was one for arts and crafts, selling little plushes and posters for less than five diamonds each. The tent they pitched was a rainbow gradient of pastel hues, ones he would see from a faint prism in bright light. There was a sign in front, one that read out Scott’s Art Shop in fancy big letters.  

There was someone there, a tall one sorting through boxes with large horsey ears and a long, white horn. His long, elegant tail stuck out to him as it swished in the air with a satisfied wag, much like Etho’s did when he was delighted with how his redstone projects worked out. A straw sunhat covered his head, blocking out the bright sun as it warmed the world, still sleepy from the chill of winter.

If Bdubs had ever seen a creature like him before, he would have gone into a full-on faint. 

Etho couldn’t deny it. He looked quite gorgeous, prettier than the disgusting man he was. All covered in grime, reeking of dirt like a wild animal. He was surprised no brave stranger had told him he smelled yet and offered him some perfume from their tent for only fifty diamonds instead of the usual full stack of sixty-four. 

Still, Etho was drawn to it, so he stepped closer. 

The first thing he noticed from the assortment of knickknacks was a stuffed horse, one mostly brown with a few specks of white near the tail. The mane was made of yarn, as black as the night he left him behind in. It had button eyes that had a crafty shimmer, but it looked like it was made with love. 

He was as drawn to it as he was to Bdubs when he first saw him. 

When they first met all those years ago, Bdubs had arrived from another server, talking about his life in little stories like patches in a quilt. He jabbered endlessly about his life, from his grandparents’ stables to the siblings he left behind on some other server. As time went on, he only gathered up more and more fables to tell, from the small funny moments to the tragedies he never told without bursting into tears. 

Etho stayed focused on the horse until a suave voice snapped him out of it. 

“Hello there, handsome.”

Etho looked up at the unicorn as he seemed to notice him, ears flicking joyfully. He noticed the freckled blush to his cheeks, the light blue hair that looked like the sky on a perfectly sunny day, just like today. His skin seemed pale, almost as if he was made from clouds. 

That must have been Scott. 

“You look like you’ve been through some big adventure.” He mused, putting a hand on his hip. “What have you been up to, man of the woods?” 

A part of the majestic hybrid before Etho reminded him of Keralis, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was possibly the flirting, maybe the big eyes that seemed to reel him in like a fish. He had a smile, much too large not to be flirting, with even and sharp teeth without a stain of yellow. 

“Oh…” Etho started, his voice stammering with nerves, a habit he had since he was very young. “I was just… I was just walking by… noticing some things… yeah, things…”

“Okay, take your time.” Scott responded. “I’m usually here every Sunday. Perfect time for patrons to come around and go to the shops before work and school start for them.”

Etho continued to stare at the horse, the one who reminded him so much of Bdubs. There was a tag, one that hung around his neck like a collar, for five bucks. 

“So…” Etho turned his head awkwardly towards Scott, feeling like he could say something to such a friendly guy. “This is your business, eh?” 

“Yeah, started it all on my own.” The handsome unicorn man explained, still unpacking boxes. “Parents kicked me out soon after I got out of high school and I couldn’t get into art school, so I had to do something else with my life.” 

“Man, it must be exhausting doing that yourself.” Etho reflected. 

“Not really.” Scott neighed. “I never take a break, but why would I want to? I have the best job in the world. Why would I want to change who I am for a little extra cash?”  

“So, you don’t take breaks?” Etho asked like a curious child. “Then how do you find inspiration?” 

“Trust me, I have some friends.” Scott commented eloquently. “My partner Jimmy comes by every so often. He would join me, but he caught himself a bit of a cold. You know how the seasons can wreck your immune system.” 

Etho nodded. Colds didn’t seem to affect him as much as they did other members of Hermitcraft when they were passed around like papers in a classroom. He blamed his scar-covering mask and his Canadian upbringing for that. If he did, it was often a reasonable sniffle or a sore throat he self-medicated with allergy medicine. That usually did the trick, although it would take him out of commission for a day or two until he bounced back up and continued working. 

The same couldn’t be said for Bdubs. Every time a sickness came around, he was always the first one to catch it. He usually remedied it with herbal teas and other weird natural cures, but probably the best cure was having Etho’s arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly as they watched some stupid sitcom until he fell asleep with his head on Etho’s chest or lap. 

Speaking of Bdubs, the horse still stood on the table, available for sale. 

“You’re still looking at that horse. You seemed drawn to it.” 

“It just… reminds me of an old friend.” 

“I understand.” 

The horse seemed to call his name, somewhere behind those button eyes. Etho… Etho… Etho…

Etho reached into his vest, almost instinctively. He was going to buy that damn horse. 

The exchange was brief. Etho didn’t want to stay longer than that. The market was getting loud, louder than he could handle. They said goodbye with a wave before Etho left with the horse in a paper bag, the head sticking out like a Yorkie in a designer handbag some rich lady would carry around. 

Of course the first thing he bought outside of Hermitcraft was that stupid horse. 

~~~~~

Etho had called the forest home for a while, but now he was getting bored. 

The same old trees, the same old birds and deer and flowers that plagued him with some unfamiliar sameness. At first, he was interested, but now, he was only surviving. He wasn’t living, not like he was on Hermitcraft. 

His mind drifted back to his exile from Mindcrack, back when Doc was his most loyal follower. The one that told him not to do stupid survival tricks he learned from incorrect and outdated rich people books with more fiction than fact. Things he learned from watching Doc do them, ones he used after he and Beef got separated from the server so they wouldn’t resort only to trial and error. 

Void, he missed Doc. He missed his low-pitched voice, his clinical wisdom, his brutal honesty that Etho needed at that moment. 

He should have been back at Hermitcraft. He could have been building a base, one unappealing to most hermits but home to him. He should have been hanging out with his friends, seeing what they were up to and getting involved, no matter how crazy it was. He should have been living a peaceful and domestic life. Drinking loads of hot cocoa, cuddling in the warmest sheet imaginable, enjoying the joys of being alive. 

Instead, Etho was just huddled up behind a mushroom-covered log, cradling the horse he bought a couple months ago like it was Bdubs in his arms again. It smelled like dirt, just like the rest of him. As soon as he got to an actual shower, he would embrace every second. The warm water on his skin, the shampoo in his hair, things he never actually thought he would miss. 

His stomach turned. He knew it wasn’t from the orange mushrooms he nibbled on a few hours ago. He would have noticed other things if it was that. He had eaten mycelium before, and if it was anything like that…

It was from homesickness, the most awful kind. The one that settled in his stomach acid and refused to let go until the cure could be found. A cure that meant going back, no matter what. 

Etho’s ears shot up at the sound of footsteps, drowned out by the crunch of leaves that fell sometime during the autumn before. He noticed a man, around the same age as him, walking with a studious gait as he watched the trees above him. He was dressed exclusively in green with long blonde hair held back by a dark green bandana and a high ponytail, just like the ones Xisuma put his hair in when Keralis wasn’t available to braid it. He had some scruffy hair on his chin, not yet a full beard but getting there. 

The man didn’t seem to notice him, ironically. Instead, he just walked over to where Etho was lying as he put his head back down out of fear. He sat down on the perfectly placed log, getting out a sketchbook with a scratched-up cover from the dark brown bag he carried and started sketching. 

The sound of the pencil on the paper took him back to the season Cleo first started putting their self-taught stitching abilities to good use. Designing clothes was a good outlet for all of the pent-up anger and frustration, one that could benefit the other hermits in the long run. Etho was used as a test model for one of her new designs, one in exchange for fixing his vest after it had been torn up into shreds after an unfortunate and unplanned night alone. Cleo redesigned it quite a bit, giving it a fluffy white collar that stuck up like fur on an ermine and a few new pockets for holding more redstone materials.  

Other hermits took to art as well. There had been many artistic takes they had done throughout the seasons, Etho had noticed. Gem’s many artistic drawings, Joe’s innate love of poetry, False’s jacket with little designs she had sewn on herself, the medieval scriptures Wels had made in his spare time to connect back with his noble roots. Even Jellie, who often liked to get into the ink Scar was using for his blueprints, was an artist. It seemed every hermit had an artistic hobby. 

Etho had his own as well. Redstone, an art form all on its own. Sure, it wasn’t writing or drawing or sewing or anything like that, but it made him happy. Maybe that’s how he felt out here in nature. 

He missed doing redstone. He missed it so much. 

Etho sat up, no longer wanting to rest in the dirt like the corpse he no longer was. The stranger seemed to notice him, his large ears moving over to where Etho was stretching as if he had just noticed him. 

“I’m assuming you’ve been there the whole time?” He asked. 

A little small talk wouldn’t hurt, Etho guessed. 

They were both seemingly alone. It’s not like anyone would intrude on their conversation. Who would? A gossiping bug?

“Yeah, pretty much.” Etho responding, noticing how the man before him didn’t seem frightened at all, as if he had been expecting him 

The man just sighed. “Cool.” 

The forest went silent again. Well, as silent as a forest could be without sounding unnatural. 

“Whatcha drawing there?” Etho asked, one of his ears flapping. 

“Oh, just some animals.” The blonde man responded rather meekly. “They have always been my favorite. There’s just something comforting about wildlife. I can’t put my finger on it though.”

Etho nodded in understanding. He was familiar with wildlife as well. 

The various weird little bugs crawled around the caves in the dark, sometimes glowing as the light of the torches hit them. The fish that swam freely in the water before Etho fished them out for dinner. The howls of wolves at night kept him awake when he should have been deeply asleep. 

There was some wildlife he longed for. Some that were domestic in a way, just like he was. 

The wild horses seemed to gravitate towards Bdubs as if he were some sort of horse whisperer. The packs of wild dogs that roamed the server a couple seasons ago that Joe tried his darndest to keep under control. The canaries that roamed the server, employed as companions and friends of the oldest, truest hermit as he spent his days toiling alone in the mines. 

True, none of them were truly wild, but none of them were truly tame either. They still lingered around the hermits, playing many roles. As helpers, as pests, as acquaintances.  

Etho didn’t even brush on the domestic ones that followed their owners around everywhere they went. His heart hurt just thinking about how they felt not having him around. Jellie’s soft fur and spoiled attitude were what the entire server knew her for. Bishop’s sharp bark and striking eyes, how he would tug at little knots and flowy clothes that were within reach. The way Max would just crawl onto somebody’s lap and not let go, almost like he was keeping them there forever. The way Grian’s two pet ocelots would always run around and mess his base up, almost as if the wild hadn’t fully been taught out of them.  

“Oh, neat.” Etho spoke back, ignoring the animistic nostalgia that filled his mind. “I have a friend who loves to draw.” 

“Yeah…” The man explained. “I know a lot of people who love to draw. Helps me get my thoughts down.” 

Etho nodded. “I fully understand.” 

Etho and the other man continued to talk on and off for a couple of hours as he drew. Apparently, his name was Martyn. He had been out on his own for quite a while, living off the land and sketching little things in his book. A cat that looked slightly like Jellie, a dog that looked a bit like Ren in the face, a crow with striking blue eyes that he explained reminded him of his best friend who devoted his life to some death goddess and lived out among the crows like a hermit. 

A hermit? 

Man, he was really going through withdrawals from the server. 

Every part of him questioned why he left. Sure, it built up some good character, but he missed more than he ever gained out here. There was a reason why most players tended to gravitate towards a server, a place where they could belong and not have to fend for themselves. 

Maybe that was his real place on Hermitcraft. Not to build, not to influence, but to live in a community. He didn’t have to fend for himself anymore if he had a server, a group of friends that always had his back. 

He needed to go back there. He needed to make things right. He didn’t care about the questions they asked or the gossip that would spread like wildfire once he returned. He had to go back, even if it was the last thing he did. 

Soon after Martyn left, tired of his pondering, Etho left as well. Grabbed his bag, put the horse back in it, and ran off in one direction. It didn’t matter how far he was or how long it took.

He was going home. 

~~~~~

There was a small feeling in Etho’s bones that told him he was close to a server. 

Etho had been wondering for a while. How long, he wasn’t quite sure. He had been out so long that he had seen seasons change, plants blossom, bees buzzing around. He had seen winter pass away into the warm joys of spring, much too hot for his frost-loving bones. He had seen the temperatures rise and fall like an intermittent fever, burning and chilling all the same. 

His mind still drifted back home to Hermitcraft, a place he knew he was getting closer to. The air had a certain feeling to it. He imagined what they could have been doing during this time. New builds, new games, new alliances and friendships molded like the clay beneath his feet.

He thought about the seasons before and all the pleasant experiences from that. All the friends he knew, both old and new. All the builds from seasons past, walls oozing with nostalgia and forgotten memories. 

Coming home didn’t seem like a bad idea.

The wind seemed to pick up, a breeze flowing through his hair. It had gotten longer than he realized, no longer firm and spiky. Loose strands poked his eyes, held back by the headband that still remained on his head. One he liked because it was his favorite shade of blue, one he treasured because it covered his wounded eye when he was insecure and kept others from asking questions they didn’t need to hear the answer to. 

In the distance were some buildings. Etho could tell they were made by villager hands, not simple to be a hermit build. One usually so full of life was now deathly silent. Stepping closer, a small shiver ran up his back like rats in abandoned redstone structures, gnawing away at his gut. Something told him to turn back, but something else told him to stay. 

Each step felt like a challenge, almost as if he was about to wake up a sleeping giant that would swallow him whole. A part of him thought it was silly, being scared of a village where the villagers lived simple lives, lives part of him envied. However, there was something strange, a certain air he couldn’t shake off, lingering like a rancid smell. 

The smell of blood, the smell of decay, the smell of death. 

It wasn’t long before he noticed the aftermath. 

Twenty or so villagers, discarded like rags on the ground. Blood still poured from them well after they were brutally massacred. It made Etho’s stomach flip. Not enough to reject what little food remained in it, but enough to make him feel the world spin beneath him. 

Somewhere in the soft wind, Etho could hear something. A familiar sizzling squeak, like a mouse thrown into a fireplace. 

Off in the distance, Etho could see a ravager. Sharp horns, thick gray skin, a bellowing call. There were humanoid forms scattered around it, marching in a threatening pack. They moved like soldiers, ready for more war and carnage than they had already caused. 

Something red flashed before them, standing like a burning red flame. From off in the distance, Etho could pick up his voice, the words he was saying too distant to pick up but sounding frantic. 

Tango. It must have been. 

Etho thought a lot about Tango, even in the silence of his mind. The younger brother Etho never had. The little puppy that followed him around and encouraged him to play, even if he didn’t want to. The unofficial prodigy wanted to learn everything he knew, and maybe he would teach him other things along the way. 

Etho knew he couldn’t wait around. He dropped the backpack he had been carrying around the entire time, vowing to get back to it sometime after the battle if he wasn’t instantly crushed by a ravager’s foot or quickly finished off by pillagers. They would find it, the last artifacts from a crumbling legend. 

He didn’t need it weighing him down, not anymore. 

Like a white flash of lightning, Etho took out his cracked sword and flung himself into the large ravager’s side, throwing it off balance. It made a pained bellow, enough to make the earth shake. The pillager above fell off the saddle, right onto his head, as his neck made a sickening crunch. His body fell to one side, already starting to dissipate into the dirt. 

The ravager turned his head, reorienting himself as he regained his footing. He huffed, lowering his head to give Etho a glance of his sharp ivory horns. He charged at him, but Etho dashed out of the way just in time. 

With the pillagers distracted, Tango dashed away, but not too far. Right into a small trench, just on the edge of the slaughtered village. He ran past the corpses of dead villagers, of an iron golem who had been reduced to chunks, of livestock who had been shot with stray arrows. 

Tango hid, but not far. He could still hear the angry grunting of pillagers, the arrows flying in every direction and the beating of elephantine toes that made the ground convulse like aftershocks. He covered his sensitive ears with his clawed hands, tail whooshing wildly in fear. He just wanted it to be over, for it to be done, for him to be safe.

Still, something willed him to turn around, to poke his head out from over the deep hole he found himself in. A familiar sound seemed to alert him. One he hadn’t heard in some time but had grown used to, like some sort of conditioned response.

Then, he saw it. 

Icy white hair that still stuck out like icicles. Warm clothes that covered his skin, even in the depths of the dog days of summer. A determined face, half-covered by a dark mask. A swishing tail, moving in a fuzzy, repetitive manner. 

Etho.

There, alive, in the flesh. 

Tango couldn’t believe it. Etho was gone, vanished without a trace. No one knew where he was. Not his friends, not the other admins, not even Bdubs. 

All Tango could do at that moment was watch. Watch Etho weave between arrows, brushing off the one or two that hit him like bee stings. Watch him jump in the air like an acrobat, disarming the pillagers before using their own weapons against them. Watch him brush off the blows like the bites of ants under the skin, not even pausing to reflect on his wounds for a second. 

As quickly as the fight started, it ended. Horns were blown, the last pillager fell, and there was nothing left on the battlefield but some abandoned weapons that stuck up like graves and a bog of blood just underfoot. Tango emerged from the small trench he was hiding in, head peeking out like a scared meerkat. His ears twitched up like a cautious rabbit, knowing something was amiss. 

In the fog, Etho remained standing, but a bit unsteady. He swayed to one side but stabilized himself with his wobbly legs. The part of his face that wasn’t covered by scars or his mask was strangely pale, a lighter color than normal. His clothes were covered in blood, both his own and that of those who opposed him. Despite looking like a used pincushion, it didn’t seem to faze Etho one bit. 

Instead, Etho turned his head towards where Tango was hiding. As if nothing happened, he gave a small, friendly hand upwards like some sort of wounded martyr…

…then he dropped.  

It wasn’t a nice, graceful swoon, but rather a sharp crumble. One where he knew it was going to happen, but he was powerless to stop it until it hit him. A sudden fall onto his side, not a sound tumbling out of his mouth as if all the life had already been sucked out of him. 

“ETHO!”

Tango scrambled over to where Etho was lying, dodging past the heaps of dead bodies and discarded weapons to get there. The ground was slick with blood, splashing onto his boots as he ran across the wide-open meadow to reach him. 

Eventually, Tango halted to a stop, covering his mouth as he took in all of Etho’s injuries. 

Etho was, for a lack of a better term, pretty beat up. The cuts in his clothes showed various wounds across his body, some deeper than others. A handful of arrows stuck out from his chest, which Tango hoped were contained by his marshmallow-like vest and not burrowing into any vital organs. He was breathing, but barely. 

It didn’t take a genius to know Etho needed help. 

As quickly as he could, Tango frantically grabbed his communicator, searching for Zed’s contact. Once he did, he pressed it, hoping Zed would answer when it rang, the only sound in that entire meadow other than a deathly silence. 

“C’mon…” Tango muttered to himself. “Pick up, pick up, pick up…”

By the time someone picked up, Tango could hear the end of a muted conversation. Something between him and Doc, almost as if he had walked in on some big secret shrouded in medical jargon. 

“Hello, Tango!” Zed spoke in an innocently happy tone into his communicator, much too loud for his fragile ears, traumatized by screams and the whizzing of arrows. “Did you manage to take care of that raid for us?” 

Tango stayed quiet, trying to hold back his own tears. He made a whine or two, wondering what he could say in this situation. He couldn’t just drop something so heavy onto them. Not when it came to a long-lost hermit getting seriously hurt. 

“Tango?” Doc butted in. “Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

Before Tango had the chance to respond, an unexpected voice perked up out of the silence. One stricken with pain but aware enough to know what was going on. 

“Doc?” 

Tango turned his attention back towards Etho, still lying on the ground in pain, but he started to move. His eyes showed some recognition, pained and half-lidded but still clinging onto life. 

“Etho?” Doc’s usually annoyed tone turned soft with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Tango could only stutter until the words finally tumbled out of his mouth. He held onto Etho’s hand with his tail, hoping Etho didn’t slip away before he could get help. 

“We need help.” Tango finally admitted, voice racing like a rapidly growing wildfire. “Etho’s hurt. Badly. Like… he needs help. Now!”

“Alright, where are you?” Zed asked. 

“Near that village.” Tango instructed, voice still panicked but in a softer tone. “Please hurry. I don’t think we have much time.” 

“On our way.” Doc demanded into the communicator in a firm voice. “Just… try to patch him up and keep him safe. We’ll be there in a moment.”

Before Tango could say any more, Zed (or quite possibly Doc) hung up, leaving Tango in silence. He turned back towards Etho, eyes barely open.

“Alright, Etho…” Tango spoke to himself out loud, but also loud enough that Etho could hear him. “Doc and Zed are on their way. Just hold on until then, okay?”

Etho made a low sound to show he was barely hanging on, but from how his eyelids were drooping, Tango could tell he was losing him. Tango fell to his knees, pulling a first aid kit from his vest when he noticed Etho’s breathing getting shallow, eyes closing for a moment. Shaken by fear, Tango dealt Etho’s pallid face a small, reviving slap, which forced his eyes open a little more, as much as Tango hated the pained yap he made. 

“No, don’t go to sleep yet.” Tango ordered, shaking him. “You’ve got to stay awake.”

Another groan came from Etho, still exhausted but with enough proof to show that he was still alive, that he was still there and that he was still able to fight. As long as Tango kept talking, Etho had to keep responding, right? 

“Hey, do you remember when we first met?” Tango reminisced, trying to keep Etho awake as he pulled out some supplies. “You pointed out everything that was wrong with one of my automatic farms at the time and you finally got it working.”

Etho attempted a scoff, but it just seemed like a half-formed sneeze. “Yeah… you were very… disorganized with it…”

“I know.” Tango gave a small smile, struggling with the flimsy cotton balls as he tried to pull them apart with his gloved hands. “I’m still pretty bad with it. Maybe when we get back to the server, you can help me work out some of the kinks I still have in my machines.”

“Why do you need my help?” Etho rasped, struggling to talk much louder than a whisper. “You have Pearl. She’s like a… super sorter. Yeah… that’s it...”

“I know, but she doesn’t know that much about redstone.” Tango replied, finally having one small cotton ball in his hand. “That’s why I need you.” 

Etho just snorted, eyes closing just a sliver. “That’s cute…”

“Yeah…” Tango turned back towards Etho, watching his chest move in a frantic breathing pattern. “And do you remember when you volunteered to be a part of one of Zed’s experiments for a few extra diamonds? Especially that one with the supposed hair growth formula?”

“Do I ever…” Etho responded, eyes opening back up with some form of subtle revived energy. “I never… never want to do that again. My hair was bright pink for, like… a week…”

Tango chuckled as he dipped his cotton ball in a bottle of antiseptic. “Oh, come on. You looked so funny.” 

“I looked like an unkempt flamin- GAH!” Etho’s sentence was finished by a pained groan as Tango pressed down on Etho’s side wound, one that still poured out blood like a steady, slow-moving stream. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Tango apologized, if only to keep Etho from completely hating him while he worked on his wounds, bandaging them up. “Just making sure you don’t get a bad infection between now and the time Doc arrives.” 

“It’s fine…” Etho replied brokenly, his voice like shattered ice in the sun, his lungs struggling to speak louder. “I’ve… lived a good life there. He doesn’t… doesn’t need to come look for me…”

Tango forced the antiseptic-soaked cotton ball onto one of Etho’s other wounds, which hit him harder than a slap to the face. He wailed in pain, with almost enough force to send him shooting upwards as if waking from a nightmare. 

“No, don’t talk like that.” Tango remained firm. “We’re getting you help, whether you like it or not.”

“Geez, stubborn much?” Etho responded breathlessly with all the force of an insult.  

“Yeah, no kidding.” Tango replied in the same tone, holding a bandage as he wrapped up Etho’s arm, tending to a long wound just above his elbow. “Just like that one time during the cook-off when Doc insisted on making the hottest thing imaginable just so he could beat Beef.” 

“Yup… sounds like them…” Etho just sighed like a disappointed parent, still proud of them despite all the ways they got under his skin. “Always at each other’s throats… Especially now…” 

“I didn’t see why Doc wanted to use seven different types of pepper.” Tango responded, finishing his quick but effective bandaging. “I didn’t think it was that hot.”

Etho attempted another laugh, which he regretted very much when his body protested. “You just have a strong stomach, netherborns and all that…” 

He laid his head back down, the world spinning faster than before. He could hardly see Tango’s face through the vertigo, nothing but a red blob that smelled like redstone and sulfur. Not as strongly as in the air of the Nether, but enough to tell he wasn’t from the Overworld. 

“I- I’m gonna lay down now…” Etho responded in a woozy tone, head thudding on the grass below. “Night-night…”

“Hey, no!” Tango cried out, but Etho didn’t listen, letting himself drift into momentary unconsciousness again. 

Tango tapped Etho’s face repeatedly, but with the same force as a cold, sobering slap. His flaming hair seemed to dim down in worry, flowing less with the consistency of a quick flame and more like the waves of emotions he was feeling.

“Eyes on me, alright?” Tango called out, his voice breaking like a clap of thunder. “Etho, eyes on me!” 

Etho forced open his eyes, groaning in pain. The tip of Tango’s tail shook wildly with joy, a motion he only made when he was really excited. 

“Ugh, what was that for?” Etho whined, voice drowsy. “I was getting comfortable…”

“You’re not dying.” Tango growled protectively. “Not on my watch.”

“I’m not dying, Tango.” Etho responded, moving his head to look at his body. “I’m just…”

Etho stopped as he noticed everything wrong with his body. His clothes were covered in blood, some patches fading into a dark brown and others still as red as a flame. Things piercing out of his body that shouldn’t be there, limbs that looked mangled and torn…

Oh, he really was dying.

“Oh.” Etho responded bluntly, the gravity of the situation hitting him full force. “That’s bad… Real bad…” 

“Etho…” Tango just whined softly.

Etho looked up at the sky, seeing nothing but blinding blue, his vision so distorted that he couldn’t see the white clouds floating overhead or the sun off in the distance. He drifted a bit, but not too far from Tango’s lassoing voice, hearing him whine instinctively.

“You don’t have to worry...” Etho gasped, coming to terms with it as he paused for a concerning moment to catch his fleeting train of thought. “You say Doc’s coming, right?” 

“Yeah, they’re coming.” Tango reassured Etho, but also a part of himself as well. “You just have to hang on until then, alright? You can rest once they get here.” 

“That’s good…” Etho breathed out, lungs crackling in pain. “He’ll come and patch me up… He’s done it before… If he likes me enough, he’ll do it again… If not… that’s fair…”

“Doc’s not going to let anything happen to you, promise.” Tango assured, hoping his voice would be the painkiller to some of his worries. “He’s treated all of us and we’ve all come out alright.” 

“Yeah…” Etho muttered, still wincing in pain as he reached out, grabbing Tango’s arm as the netherborn continued to patch up his wounds.

Etho leaned back as Tango worked, drifting once again, but this time into his thoughts instead of the oblivion that surrounded him like a pack of wolves. He'd shaken hands with death plenty of times in his life. The skating incident during his youth, the jungle’s tantalizing grasp that took Bdubs and the server away from him, the whole moon thing last season…

And, of course, the life-altering explosion back on Mindcrack.

The closest he came to his own true extinction. The one that changed him in ways that still affected him. His uneven sight that still plagued him, the way he looked at his own reflection in the mirror, how he viewed those who followed him onto Hermitcraft, willing to desert a server that meant so much but was crumbling apart from the inside out like a condemned house. 

Etho could feel death approaching, but he welcomed it. He lived a full, adventurous life. Not as long as he wanted it to be, but long enough to see the change he put out into the world. He played many parts. Each of which were seen around the server, but not as uniquely as how Etho played them. His role changed to fit the seasons, shifting slightly from each hermit he met. 

At first, he was a renegade. A refugee from another world, so seasoned in redstone that it made all the other hermits jealous. One whose ever-growing fame got to his head, his pedestal breaking but too captivated by the watching eyes to notice.

Then, he was a revenant. One who returned due to circumstances beyond his control, a long odyssey of vines and flames twisting together into a thriller that scared even the bravest hermits. A time where he learned to let go but also learned to take back what was his. 

Now, he was a legend. One who was used more as a decoy for target practice or the butt of someone’s joke but was still spoken about in high regard. He was still looked up to as a sage, a master of an art many hermits, even those who weren’t familiar with redstone, still respected. 

And that… 

That wasn’t so bad. 

But he didn't really think it would end like this.

He imagined it much more peaceful. Maybe after a long life after a short bout with some serious illness. Laid up in a bed, all of his loved ones by his side, with even more waiting beyond the veil of death. Something outside the sticky sweat of midday June. A peaceful transition, where the last things his crumbling body experienced were reassurances, physical affection, and acceptance as he welcomed death like an old friend.

But this wasn’t a bad way to go.

Etho might have been far past his prime, but he wasn’t too weak to make a change, one final heroic act that solidified his place in the server’s history, one final jab at Gem to prove that he was more than just a washed-up old coot. Sure, they would mourn, but they would move on with their lives. They would live again, love again, find joys and pleasures that would make them happy and create things that would honor him and carry his name.

And he would do the same. He had been through many transitional periods in his life. What was one more? After all, a final place where he could finally rest didn’t seem that bad…

Etho sunk into the warmth of Tango’s body, holding on as tight as he could with waning strength. He could feel himself slipping, but he didn’t resist. Didn’t have the strength for it, anyways. 

“Etho, don’t you dare close your eyes.” Tango called out more desperately, voice getting even more panicked. “Etho, keep them open! Please! Etho!”

At this point, Etho didn’t care.

His only regret was not saying goodbye. 

He never told the server how thankful he was to have them as a family, one that accepted him no matter where his heart led him. He never told each hermit individually how much they meant to him, how they changed his life, how proud they made him.

Especially Bdubs. 

Etho never told him how much life changed with Bdubs in it. He never told Bdubs how much he loved him, how much he wanted to spend eternity with him, wherever that was. 

And he never would. 

If there was an afterlife, he would strive to comfort the other hermits, to let them know in some spiritual way that they were loved. If not, he could just haunt them. He wasn’t above doing that.

“Tango, tell them…” Etho groaned, hardly a whisper. “Tell them... I’m sorry...”

With the last of his strength waning, Etho let out a final moan, then went limp. The hand on Tango’s arm lost its strong grip, falling lifeless with a final twitch. His head leaned back, eyes closing like he was deliberately disobeying Tango’s orders. 

“ETHO!” Tango grabbed Etho by the tuft of his vest, still as fluffy as ever, despite the smears of blood. “Etho, come on! Stay with me! You can’t leave me yet!” 

Etho’s brow loosened, and a final pained sigh escaped his lips as he fell still. His skin was pale, even as all of his external wounds had been patched up with bandages Tango carried around with him.

“Oh no…” Tango panicked under his breath, running his hands through his hair as his tail swished in panic. “Okay, this is bad! This is really, really bad!” 

“TANGO!” 

Tango’s ear perked up at a familiar call in the distance, one that sounded like his name. At first, he assumed it was just grief latching onto him, whispering distorted voices in his ears, but then it called again, louder and more desperate. 

Through the bodies around him, Tango noticed two figures waddling from afar in the fog. Both sheepy in nature, with twisting horns and tufts of hair on their heads. One looked more friendly, with a head of curly hair and a short stature, than the other one, who towered over him with the silent precision of a surgical instrument.

“Over here!” Tango cried out, waving his arm so the medics would notice his presence. “We need help!” 

The shorter one, who Tango rightfully assumed was Zedaph, was the first to notice, rushing over past the upright swords and drying patches of blood on the ground. The closer he got, the more Tango noticed Zed’s features. His scratched glasses, his freckled skin, his front teeth barely sticking out of his mouth. 

“Tango!” Zed shouted out as his pace slowed to a gentle trot as he approached, stopping just feet away from where Etho was lying. “How is he?” 

Almost instantly, before Tango could respond, Zed dropped to his knees, taking a good look at his new patient, pleasantly pleased by Tango’s attempts to help. He took out instrument after instrument, checking Etho over with a careful precision as he marked down his vitals. Tango could tell Zed was terrified, but he hid it well. Years of witnessing shocking injuries did that to someone, dulling their reactions but not their sense of worry.

“I tried to keep him conscious as much as I could.” Tango’s throat felt like sandpaper, rough and sharp. “But he… he…” 

“You did what you could.” Zed didn’t look up at Tango, not even for a second, as he tended to Etho. “Now it’s up to us to do the rest.”

Tango watched nervously as Zed worked, muttering to himself. Numbers Tango could not understand, jargon he couldn’t decipher. Doc approached like a hurricane, brooding and intense. He stepped carefully behind Zed, observing with the pensive features of an old sea captain, watching everything. 

“How is he?” Doc asked gravely, but secretly dreading the response. 

“BP’s tanking. Pulse is rapid.” Zed reported, handing Doc the notepad he wrote all the vitals on. “We need to act fast.” 

Doc’s eyes focused on the numbers on the paper, exclaiming some German curse as he threw his head backwards in surprise. As quickly as he could, he rushed over to the other side of his unconscious friend, pushing Tango away from Etho, and he wondered if that was the last time he would feel Etho’s warm body against his, hear him talk in a sarcastic voice or see him look at him with a comfortably cool gaze. 

Staying in the background so Doc and Zed could work, Tango watched, his gaze never turning away. He watched them poke him with an IV, prodding his eyes to look into them with a penlight. There were more words Tango could not understand, calling out random numbers and chatting in a serious tone about hemorrhaging, hypovolemic shocks and possible pneumothoraxes. 

Tango didn’t know what any of them meant. But hearing their voices, how serious they were, how pitiful they became towards someone who used to be so strong, so influential…

He could barely stomach it. 

~~~~~

The first thing Etho could feel was discomfort.

Not quite pain, but enough to tell that he should be in pain. The faint feeling of painkillers and medical fluids rushing through his veins, making him apathetic. Well, more than he usually was.

He could feel himself on some sort of bed. Not the comfortable kind that he would roll into after a long day of hard work. Rather, it was the kind of bed that served its purpose as a place to sleep, but nothing else. It wasn’t soft, wasn’t warm, wasn’t calming enough to send someone into a peaceful rest by its presence alone.

Still, Etho didn’t care. 

In fact, he really didn’t care about a lot of things he should have been worried about at that moment. 

The bright lights above him, staring back like the eyes of some heavenly being. His body was strapped down to the bed as if they were going to experiment on him. The familiar mask removed from his face, scarred skin exposed to the frigid air. Things stuck all over his body that he knew shouldn’t be there. The sound of metal clanking, cold and sharp. The shadowy figures he could feel around him, speaking in tongues familiar yet strange.

“Nadel, Skalpel, Pinzette… perfekt.”

“Are we ready to continue?”

“Ja, eine Sekunde.” 

The more Etho honed in on it, the more he eased into his situation. 

German. 

A language Doc could speak, the only one on the server who could speak it fluently. 

It was a comfort thing, a mother tongue to help him express himself when nothing in English would properly. A testament to his wisdom over mastering two languages, the residue of a young kid who came from afar to show off his talents and to change the world. 

Etho could hear Doc breathe, almost as if he was collecting his thoughts before whatever came next. A slight crackle came from his throat, a remnant of his creeper genes. 

“You alright?” A tender voice. Not serious, but gentle. “Like… really?” 

There was a pensive sigh.  “...yeah, you can say that.” 

Etho wanted to move. He wanted to sit up and talk, to reassure Doc as much as he could, but his muscles protested, too sluggish to stir. He still looked up into that bright light, vision seeming to twist as he stared deeper. 

“We got him out of harm’s way.” There was another sigh, followed by the cracking of knuckles. “Now for the hard part.” 

“Well, Tango helped. He wrapped up his wounds before we got there. Without him, Etho would have…” 

Zed stopped himself. Maybe to keep Doc from strangling him. Maybe because he couldn’t say the word he wanted to say without thinking of how it could have ended. 

“He’s safe, right? Didn’t Impulse come by and take him back to his base?”

There was a pause. Not deafening, but present. 

“Yeah, he’s alright. A little bruised and scraped up and he’s kinda freaking out, but he’ll live.”

He’ll live. 

A sense of relief came over Etho. Tango was safe, far from the grasp of danger due to his valiant efforts. Every wound, every drop of blood, every sensation of pain was worth it in the end. 

It meant Tango would continue to live a full life with Impulse and Zed by his side. He would surpass Etho as a talented engineer, creating games and builds that flowed with working, breathing redstone. 

There were a few more sounds. The clacking of tools, a cart rolling towards where he was lying. He was vaguely aware of the machines that checked over his vitals in an automatic fashion, beeping noisily and frantically. 

“His heart rate is spiking.” A frantic voice followed, but Etho didn’t care anymore. “We don’t have much time.” 

“I am aware of that, but he’s not leaving us. Not on my watch.”

A shadow appeared in Etho’s vision, the only thing that wasn’t blinding him. A red, glowing eye looked down at him, empathic through the redstone wiring. He must have noticed he was somewhat awake, if the open eyes staring at him were any indication.  

“Hold on, old friend. We’re doing everything in our power to save you.”

Doc may have promised. Then again, Doc was no good at keeping promises. 

Must have been a hallucination, between all the strange sounds around him and the medicines they pumped into him. His weakened mind must have been trying to comfort him, but Etho knew the truth. 

He was dying. He had to be. 

Doc barked more orders to Zed, but his voice was much too soft to be considered barking anymore. Etho could hardly catch it, but whatever it was, Etho knew it would hurt, even if he wasn’t awake for it. 

Zed’s round head popped up right in front of his face as he fidgeted with his IV. Etho could only see the shine of his glasses in the dazzling light above, along with the outline of a scowl just above his chin.

“I know you’re in pain, but I’ve got something to take care of that.” Zed announced tenderly, like a doctor towards a scared child. “Fair warning, it might be a little chilly when it goes in.”  

Etho didn’t mind. Etho was used to the cold. Even if he wasn’t, he was too out of it to care. 

The iciness spread through his veins, as cold as those harsh Canadian winters he was used to, but carrying some sort of sweet lullaby with them. The type that made his bones go numb, the pain tucking itself into bed without being told to. His eyes fluttered, trying to stay awake as long as he possibly could. 

He could vaguely feel a hand touching his, something soft but hoofed. Rubbing up and down in a consoling manner, like the touch of a pet owner being reunited with his lost dog. Tight, soothing, homely…

If that was the last thing Etho ever felt, at least he went out feeling comfortable, feeling safe. 

~~~~~

At last, the operation was over. 

Doc stood near Etho’s bedside, nerves fried and smoke pluming from his nose. His hooves were washed, double-washed, triple-washed, just to make sure. He compulsively rubbed them against some clean towels, almost as if making his hooves busy would take care of some of the intrusive thoughts running through the cluttered labyrinth of his mind. 

Etho looked peaceful. At least, as peaceful as someone in his position could be. 

Doc had stripped him out of those tight, thick clothes he always wore, even in the summertime heat. He had placed them in a nearby basket to be washed up and repaired, much like Etho himself. Instead, he was dressed in a blue gown, decorated with wavy white designs that reminded Doc of ocean waves. 

As tranquil as Etho’s sedate form, but as turbulent as Doc’s frantic headspace. 

Looking back on the bed, a light gown wasn’t just all that Etho had on him. He was attached to machine after machine, beeping and buzzing in a predictable, repetitive pattern. Wires over his chest, tracking the way his heart beats. Intravenous lines were still hooked into his arms, nurturing him with fluid to keep him strong as he slept. An oxygen mask tethered to his usually covered face, no longer needing to be fully intubated to keep him stable, the way it fogged with every breath reminding Doc that he was alive. 

Doc did all he could. Stitching, suturing, keeping vitals stable and breathing for him when Etho himself could not. He did the hard part, now it was time for Etho to do the rest. For his body to recover, for his body to heal. 

He wasn’t going to pretend the operation was easy. If anything, it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, even with Zed there to get him through it. He was sewing up one of his best friends like a limp ragdoll, for crying out loud. A ragdoll with goals, a ragdoll with emotions, a ragdoll with a life hanging in the balance. 

Anything could have gone wrong. Doc or Zed could have messed something up that could have done him in, especially in such a fragile state. Too much medicine to keep him under, not enough stitches on a wound to keep it from bleeding out, or his body just being too weak and giving out while on the operating table. The list went on, and the more Doc thought about it, the more he wished he hadn’t. 

Doc sat in reflective silence, one he was alone in since Zed left the base to reassure Tango and Impulse that everything went alright. He guessed seeing them in person would have been better than a text or call saying that Etho made it through. 

Still, Etho wasn’t completely out of the woods yet. He was still unconscious with the amount of drugs they pumped into him and the other things they did to him. He would be out for a few hours at least, enough for him to heal up from such a rough ordeal. He still needed to be monitored for any complications bubbling under the surface, but he was no longer in harm’s way, at least that’s how Doc could see it. 

Doc seated himself in a nearby chair, legs aching from standing for hours at a time. The chair wasn’t very comfortable, but it was better than gravity continuing to gnaw at his legs. He reached into his lab coat, pulling out his communicator. He hadn’t gotten a response back from Bdubs or Beef, although he knew they should have been the first ones to greet him when he came back instead of a threatening raid just on the border of the server. 

There had been some… complicated history between the three other hermits.

A history full of strong but complex emotions, full of constant clashes and disputes spanning across many seasons and servers, ranging from lighthearted to almost friendship-shattering. One moment, they loved each other like a close family, then the next, they were screaming at him, at each other, at the world that wanted to tear them apart.

As of now, all of them have gone their own ways since Etho vanished into the night. Doc was busy with redstone, Beef was busy with card games, and Bdubs was busy spreading royal propaganda. 

Doc missed hanging out with them. He missed how they laughed together, how they joked around, how they bonded when there was really nothing to bond over anymore. Their old servers were nothing but memories, old places and faces blurred in a rose-colored lens. 

Doc couldn’t live without a purpose. With the absence of those he loved, he felt like he was slipping. 

He missed Ren. Boy, did he miss Ren. 

As soon as everything was over with this new conflict and Ren threw away his royal alter ego, Doc wouldn’t mind having him back in his arms. To pet his head, to see the way his eyes squinted and closed happily, to see his tongue instinctively loll out of his mouth in a derpy manner. How he nuzzled his head into Doc’s chest when he could hardly keep it upright, wrapping his arms around him and hanging on tight. He loved how Ren made wolven noises in his sleep, the way his right leg kicked up in the air in the throes of dreaming, how he always seemed to smile as he threw his head back in sleep. 

The romantic fantasy was rudely interrupted by the sound of something scattering around, so soft Doc wouldn’t have detected it if it wasn't for his advanced hearing enhanced by metal and redstone. One that tended to lurk around large bases like an overgrown rat, usually with a goal to cause trouble. Most of the time, his victim wouldn’t notice it until the damage was done and the little scoundrel was long gone. Stolen items, mysterious notes, incriminating posters, mystifying leaves and patches of moss left behind like a trail leading right to the culprit.

But something told Doc that Bdubs wasn’t there for that.

With a final look at Etho’s unconscious form while eyeing his stable vitals, Doc made his way up to the surface, past the stone and metal that flanked his side, opening the iron door he usually kept tightly locked with ease. A small, simple reminder of the rush of getting Etho into the operating room before more harm could be done. 

Doc could see a relatively short, green figure aimlessly wandering the bottom of the Perimeter, his fuzzy cloak puffed out like a hedgehog. A golden watch hung from his hip, swinging gently as he ambled. The fake flowers blossomed on his back, ones he sewed on himself. 

He must have gotten his message.

“Bdubs…” Doc’s voice was more tender than a whisper on the breeze, the same tone as a grumble, but less angry and more gently protective. 

Bdubs turned his head like a lost child at the sound of his mother’s voice. “DOC!” 

He came trotting over with his short legs, thudding against the stony field at the bottom of the gaping hole. He didn’t hesitate to throw his arms around Doc’s tall, monstrous form as soon as he could reach him, tearing up like a fussy baby as he sobbed into Doc’s metallic-smelling lab coat. 

Doc wasn’t one for comfort. There was a part of him that didn’t want to be held, but there was a part of him that did. Still, he had a job to do, and Etho couldn’t wait for long. 

“C’mon.” Doc tried to comfort him, softening his gruff voice as he pulled himself away from Bdubs’ grasp to take a look into those uniquely hazel eyes, colored like a small mount with a plant germinating out of it. “Let’s get you inside.” 

Bdubs sniffed, taking Doc’s hand with a low, small voice. “Okay.”

Doc didn’t care about shutting the door. He would close it before nightfall when all the mobs came out, which was quite a few hours away. Besides, if anyone else needed to come inside to get his attention, he wanted an open space where they could reach him. 

Bdubs followed Doc down a long, dark hallway, leading him towards the room Etho was lying in. He looked around, both in awe and fear of how the veins of redstone bulged and glistened around him, leading him through what seemed like a labyrinth. Eventually, the two made it to the room where Doc was keeping Etho. Doc didn’t bother to close the door to Etho’s room when he noticed Bdubs’ presence, so the door was wide open. Bdubs stopped right before he got to the threshold, hesitating to step in the room.

There, right in front of him, was Etho. 

Bdubs could tell by the way his snowy hair hung down, no longer spiked up with hair gel or his headband. His dark mask had been removed, replaced with an oxygen mask, giving Bdubs a view of his handsomely scarred face. 

But this was not the Etho he knew. Not the Etho so full of life, so full of passion, so full of love. 

Still, Bdubs willed himself into the room, keeping silent. The room had an aura of its own, one dark and gloomy like a dungeon where prisoners were tortured. Machines moved mechanically like iron golems, clunking and whizzing with each lengthy second. Etho’s oxygen mask fogged with each breath while Bdubs held his own, waiting for him to wake up. 

“Oh, Etho…” Bdubs whined, his voice as low and drooping as the flowers in his hands. “What happened to you?” 

Etho responded in the only way an unconscious person could, through mechanical beeps and buzzes. 

“There was a raid right outside of the server.” Doc placed a reassuring hand on Bdubs’ shoulder, sighing as he tried to explain everything gently. “He decided to take it on single-handedly.” 

“A raid?” Bdubs blinked in surprise, staring back at Doc. “He took on an entire raid by himself?”

“You know how stubborn Etho is.” Doc scowled, swallowing his emotions sourly so he wouldn’t cry. “Admitting help is his weakness.”

“I know…” Bdubs looked away sorrowfully to face the bed Etho was lying in. “I just… wished I was able to help him. Maybe if I did, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” 

“It’s not your fault he decided to play the hero.” Doc retorted gruffly, turning towards Etho as well. “Nothing was going to stop him, so stop blaming yourself.” 

“Yeah, but…” Bdubs sniffled, trying to find the right words to say. 

Doc couldn’t find the right words to say, either. Whatever he said, whatever he did, it couldn’t repair the damage he had already done. It wouldn’t heal Etho completely and it wouldn’t mend any lost friendships, but he could try. Making his way past Bdubs, Doc pulled out a chair from the corner of the room, dragging it towards Etho’s bedside with sickening squeaks against the floor. Bdubs winced at the sound of it, much too loud for his fragile ears. 

Still, Etho didn’t budge. 

“Here.” Doc offered in a tired voice, standing behind the chair just a few centimeters away from the bed. “It’ll be a while until he wakes up. Might as well get comfortable.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Bdubs responded dully, not even bothering to look Doc in the eyes. 

Despite his crankiness, he took the seat anyway, hopping up like a small dog on a couch. He settled into a fuzzy green ball, eyes focused on Etho’s still form. 

Doc’s heart broke at the sight of it. Bdubs watching Etho with the same eager interest as a cat with a fish tank, waiting for any sign of improvement. Eyes focused on Etho’s chest, moving up and down in a repetitive breathing cycle.  

He was going to be there for a while.

“When do you think he’ll wake up?” Bdubs asked, not even bothering to look away from Etho.

Doc just gave a small sigh. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s on some pretty heavy-duty painkillers right now. It will probably do him in for a while, but it’s better than to see him in pain all the time.”

Bdubs just hummed. “I understand. I’ll wait here then, every moment until he wakes up.” 

Doc bowed in understanding. Unsure of how to respond, he just stayed silent. 

With Bdubs distracted, Doc slipped out of the room to the nearby kitchen. A place he could escape to between plans of redstone and world eaters when his stomach asked for a break. 

It wasn’t a fancy kitchen. It looked normal, with a small table and some chairs on one side and a countertop, a refrigerator and a microwave on the other. Still, it was enough for him. It held his microwavable meals, little snacks and other medical things that needed to be kept cold. 

Opening the refrigerator, Doc took out a couple juice boxes. Ones that were like small pebbles in his oversized hands but would look perfectly normal in Bdubs’ tiny hands. Grabbing a pack of crackers from a box, Doc carried them over to the next room, where Bdubs was sitting in vigil. True enough, he was still staring at Etho, watching him like a statue overlooking a city.

“Hey.” Doc softly spoke as he shook the packet of crackers, Bdubs only reacting with a silent turn of his head. “Got you something.”  

Doc placed the small snack on top of a rolling table near Etho’s bedside, wheeling it over towards Bdubs and adjusting it so he could reach it. Bdubs didn’t pull away, instead eating his snack before curling up like Jellie on a chair. 

The room was quiet for some time. Neither Doc nor Bdubs had the heart to say anything. 

Then, Bdubs coughed. Possibly the pollen toying with his lungs. Maybe the mild asthma that lingered from childhood was springing up like an animal against a cage. Whatever it was, it was a sign for Doc to speak, to break the stifling silence that haunted both of them. 

“So…” Doc started, trying to figure out what to say. “How have you been? It’s… been a while since we talked.”

It took a while for Bdubs to respond, almost as if he was holding his own tongue. 

“Alright, I guess.” Words finally trickled out of his mouth like sap from a tree, turning his head away from Doc for a second to stare at Etho’s still form. “It’s been hard.” 

“I know. It’s been hard for me, too.” 

“I know how much you don’t like being alone.” 

“And I know how much you don’t like being bossed around.” 

Doc and Bdubs knew each other, more than they wished they did. Through those cracks Doc showed during those moments of weakness in his facade, through those gushing words that flowed from a numb mouth after those constant fillings on Bdubs’ sugar-coated teeth. At the end of the day, they had each other’s back.

And that wasn’t so bad. 

Doc could hear sounds from right above, the familiar wisp of rockets and the thudding of hooves on the ground. Even Bdubs could hear it, lifting his head out of his mossy sphere like a tired dog noticing his owner at the door. 

Despite being such a powerful force, Doc’s legs wobbled as he stood up. He walked over to the other side of the bed to check Etho’s vitals, noticing all of them looking exceptional for someone in his vulnerable position. He then gazed towards the door, ready to face Beef’s wrath or whatever strong emotion he came into the room with. 

“Etho!” Doc’s heart tried not to break as he heard how innocently desperate and slightly annoyed his voice sounded in that moment. “Etho, where are yo-” 

Beef paused before he could step into the room, his face laced with fright. Still, Doc could see his emotions changing. Tears gathering on the border of his eyes like angry protesters, his mustache twitching as if it was unsure of what emotion to portray, his fluffy ears pulling back like a scared animal. 

It took a few seconds for him to completely lose it. 

“ETHO!” 

Beef screamed as tears threw themselves from his cheeks as he jerked his head forward, almost giving himself whiplash. He barged into the room, stampeding towards the side of the bed Doc was next to. Even before Doc could offer him a chair to sit on, Beef kneeled down by Etho’s bedside, grabbing his limp hand like a beacon of hope as he already started to bawl. He brought the pale hand up to his face, letting the soft skin collect his tears. He babbled nonsensically, somewhere between a prayer and a promise. 

Doc stayed quiet. Sometimes, silence was the best medicine during moments like this. 

After about a couple minutes of blubbering into nothingness, Beef turned his head towards Doc, his eyes still full of tears as he growled. “Who did this to him?” 

“He got stuck in a raid just outside the server.” Bdubs spoke up, explaining things in a softer tone than Doc could do at that moment. “He fought it off himself and Doc fixed him right up. Gave him enough stuff to knock out a small horse. He probably won’t respond for a while.”

It took Beef a moment to calm himself down more, just enough to express his feelings. He wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeves, although he knew more were arriving. He rose to his hooves, springing up to give Doc a strong hug, the only ones he knew how to give. 

“Thank you.” Beef wailed like an emotional mother, his voice much too loud for Doc’s ears. “Thank you so much for saving him.”

Doc wasn’t much of a hugger. At least, not that he would like to admit. But now, he really needed it. Beef’s hugs were the best, the tightest and most suffocating, but comforting deep down in his still-beating heart. He missed them so much.

“No problem, mein Kamerad.” Doc responded, tightly hugging him back. 

Beef pulled back, ignoring Doc’s little compliment instead of his usual insults, taking in the gravity of everything. He looked back at Etho, who looked so small in that bed, hooked up to all those machines that were keeping him stable. A constant reminder that he wasn’t invincible, that he could be hurt, that he could be killed. 

“Oh, Etho…” His voice sounded broken. Not angry, not weeping, just broken. 

Bdubs crawled out of his ball without a grudging word, moving to the wall where the chairs were lined up like criminals yet to be executed. He carried it over to the other side of the bed, the weight comfortably heavy on his shoulders. He lowered it slowly, barely making a sound. 

Beef turned his head to see Bdubs’ smile, not as wide as it usually was, but uplifting. “Thank you, little buddy.” 

Bdubs just nodded gratefully, not saying anything else. 

Beef sat down on the chair, leaning over Etho’s bed. He lightly touched Etho’s hand, pressing it tightly as if he expected Etho to squeeze back. Beef put his forehead to Etho’s frigid, gloveless hand, silently praying to whoever was out there for bringing Etho back as a tear or two tumbled down his face.

None of them said a word for a while. 

Neither one of them told the other hermits that Etho had returned. All they knew is that they got an urgent text from Doc and that they needed to come to his base right away, leaving their friends in the dust. But from the look on their friends’ faces and how all the color drained from them, they could tell it was something serious and that they shouldn’t interfere. At least, not yet. 

Doc ran in and out of the room like a frantic mouse in a maze, coming back every so often with things to make his friends comfortable. Blankets, food, drinks, anything that would make the pain of waiting more tolerable. For the moments he stayed around, he watched Etho’s vitals like a hawk, readjusting the machines as they changed. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. He never commented, not in front of the other hermits watching him. 

It was about an hour and a half before anyone said a word. 

Real words. Not a cough or a yawn or any other meaningless noise. Real, tangible words with feeling. 

“You really didn’t have to do this.” 

Doc turned his head at Beef’s words, soft and sincere with a touch of exhaustion. 

“Why not?” Doc replied. “You are one of my many… allies.” 

Doc hesitated to state who they were to him. He would use any term, any term at all that would signal their companionship. Ally, comrade, associate, acquaintance, any German equivalent. Any word at all but friend. 

Doc insisted he didn’t have any friends. Friendship was for weaklings, those who were feeble-minded or childish. Bdubs had friends, those as wild and free as he was. Beef had friends, those just as awkward and out there as he was. Creatures like Doc didn’t have friends. Scientists like Doc didn’t have friends. But there were moments, moments like this, that said otherwise. 

“See, Doc does care about us.” Bdubs said out loud, louder than he thought he would. 

Beef only smiled, still lined with worry but blossoming with thankfulness. Doc stewed in silence, not knowing what to say. 

That was the reason why they grew apart in the first place. Doc had grown colder, the same chill as an operating room. Sharp, biting, frigid. Sometimes inwardly, like an anesthetic running through the veins of the patient, sometimes externally, like cold scalpels cutting away warm mammalian skin. 

He threw friendship away like a used needle in a sharps container. He forgot what really mattered to him as his ambitions caught up with him. A swift spur-of-the-moment, heated words that burned hot like coals. Words that scorched everything and everyone he knew, a ripple effect he couldn’t control as it hit him in the back of the head like a boomerang. 

“I guess you’re right.” Doc admitted with a sizzling sigh, shoulders sagging. “Besides, I’m the reason he left in the first place.” 

The room went quiet once again as Doc’s lingering, fizzing breath died out. However, it didn’t stay silent for long. 

“No.” Bdubs’ voice shot up like the sound of a dropped pen in a quiet, reverberating building, running his fingers through his short hair. “It’s my fault. I was so busy focusing on my stupid base that I didn’t really spend time with him. Maybe if I did, he wouldn’t have left.” 

Beef scoffed sadly, covering his mouth with hands folded, almost in prayer. “I think we all are at fault.” 

“Why?” Bdubs responded. “What did you do wrong?” 

“I don’t think it's just about me.” Beef turned his head towards his friends, hands still folded as he laid his head on them. “I think it’s about all of us. We didn’t abandon him, we abandoned each other.” 

Doc stared off into space in reflection for a moment before averting his gaze away from his friends. Bdubs’ curious wandering eyes, Beef’s words that hit harder than a brick against a window, the corpse on the bed that still breathed. 

Willing himself to look Beef in the face, Doc swallowed his pride. “Do you think we’re the reason he left?”

“Well, I don’t think just one of us is why.” Beef turned back towards Etho, unfolding his hands to touch the hand that had remained limp the entire time. “There’s a reason why we’re all here in this room.” 

Bdubs seemed to nod in agreement. “Etho means so much to us, to all of us.” 

Everyone in that room understood. 

Beef sighed, turning back towards Doc. Both of them found themselves on even footing. The very platform both of them stood on crumbled enough to strip back all the layers of their relationship. All the grudges that they held, all the venom that poisoned both of them, all the good memories lost in the void that both of them secretly wanted to recreate but never had the time.

That didn’t matter anymore. 

“Can we start over?” Doc’s hesitant voice was soft like the purr of a cat. “Like… officially? I don’t… I don’t like fighting with you anymore.” 

Beef looked at him with a growing smile. “I thought you would never ask.”

Grabbing the metal rail by Etho’s bed, Beef put his full weight onto it as he stood up on his sore, half-asleep legs. He trotted over to Doc, both of them looking sorry and empathetic as if they both understood and were ready to start anew. 

“C’mere, you idiot.” Beef’s smile grew wider as he grabbed Doc as tightly as he could. 

Surrendering to the emotions that swelled up in his stone-cold heart, Doc hugged back, just as  securely as Beef was. The two stayed there as the rest of the world faded away at that moment. 

“Mmm, you’re so soft.” Beef complimented, holding him tighter. 

“Don’t make me take everything back.” Doc teased gently with a small, frivolous chuckle.

~~~~~

The first thing Etho felt as he woke up was sore.

Shocks of dull pain all over his body jolted through him, making him wince as he opened his eyes. He knew he was in a bed, maybe some hidden hideout by the looks of things, but wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there as his eye started to adjust. 

As confused as he was, there were a lot of indicators that showed which base he was at. The dark walls that reminded him of an underground dungeon were clearly a Doc thing, but so was the rack of plants, nurtured by a faintly flashing overhead light. Despite the reputation for his destructive tendencies, Doc was more of a green thumb than anyone else realized. 

Still, Etho could feel someone else’s presence. Something like a ghost, but less haunting and more alive. He noticed some faint murmuring, sounding slightly like purring, from one side of the room. Etho turned his head to see Bdubs curled up uncomfortably on a chair, covered up in his mossy cloak, too asleep to care about the back problems that would greet him once he woke up. 

Etho smiled at the thought. Bdubs stayed all this time for him to wake up. He could have been doing something else, anything else, but instead he came here, possibly to scold and baby him once he noticed he was awake. 

The room wasn’t completely silent for long. Etho could hear redstone-powered machines whirling in the background as clicking footsteps echoed in the hallway. The heavy iron door unlocked right in front of him, noticing the familiar horned head in the half-shaded window of the door. 

As the door opened, Etho noticed another hermit stepping inside, one who he was more than familiar with. Patchy green fur mixed with pulsing redstone, with wiry hair and spiraling horns that matched the shine of polished iron. A figure lost in thought, gazing at the ground until he noticed Etho was awake.

Doc stood there, completely stunned, as if he wasn’t sure what to do at first. He straightened his pose, making himself seem larger, like a bear on its hind legs. It was a few seconds until Doc cleared his throat with a small cough, putting on the serious look he insisted he always wore. 

“Oh.” Doc started in a deep tone, clearly attempting to conceal his sincere gratitude. “You’re finally awake, aren’t you?” 

“What’s up, Doc?” Etho asked as if nothing ever happened. “How’s it going?” 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” Doc retorted, a slight but gentle hiss in his voice. “You were in a pretty poor condition when we found you.” 

“How…” Etho cleared his throat for a moment before continuing. “...bad was it?”

“Do you really want to know?” If Doc’s robotic right eye had an eyebrow, it would have been raised. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda why I asked.” Etho responded as he tried to readjust himself on the bed but groaned at the pain that still gnawed at him. 

“Careful there.” Doc warned. “You punctured one of your lungs. I had to go in and fix it.” 

“Really?” Etho’s eye widened, staring at Doc in surprise. 

“Yeah, you were out for quite a while.” Doc reported, trying to recall as he counted on his hands. “A day and a half, to be precise. You had at least five random stab wounds, three arrows lodged deep in your chest and more scratches and bruises than I could count on one hand. To put it bluntly, you’re… You’re very lucky to be alive right now.”

Lucky to be alive. 

A phrase he had heard before, plenty of times with various types of injury to himself and his friends. A phrase he never wanted to hear again. Not if he could help it.

Etho looked down, noticing his change of clothing. Besides the bandages keeping his chest in place, there was a hospital gown over his shoulders. A baby blue one with serene, relaxing designs lined with white. Soft and flexible, perfect for his recovery. 

“I don't know what to say.” Etho looked back up at Doc, voice cracking and quiet. “Thank you so much.” 

“No problem.” Doc just smiled after giving out a huff he had been holding back. There were no other sarcastic words left to say. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Etho smiled back, showing his raw smile that was usually hidden with a dark mask. A smile Doc rarely saw but treasured like a patch of warm sunshine on a chilly day. One of the few things that he didn’t view as tainted in his broken, pessimistic world. Doc flashed a smile as well, which looked unnatural with his constant scowl, but it brightened Etho’s world like a match in the dark.

Before they could say anything else, the iron door leading to the clinic opened once more. Beef shuffled his way into the room, back to the door, as Etho noticed his hands were carrying a tray steaming with warm sandwiches. Etho could smell the food from where he was lying, oddly comforting in a way.  

“Okay, so we ran out of provolone, so I had to go with cheddar for the other sandwiches.” Beef rambled to Doc as he stepped inside, turning around to face where Etho was lying. “Also, I hope you’re alright with  white bread because we were out of-” 

As he laid his eyes on Etho, Beef paused, hesitating for a moment. A wide smile formed in his beard, right under his mustache. Etho noticed at once that it was no longer as neatly trimmed and finely styled but rather scruffy and frayed with neglect and stress. His eyes seemed to glow with joy, contrasted by the swelling dark circles pooling under his eyes.   

“Etho!” Beef called out, forgetting about everything else at that moment. 

Beef threw the tray onto a nearby table carelessly as he quickly trotted over to Etho, not giving it much attention as it landed just centimeters from the edge with a loud clattering sound, every sandwich safe and accounted for. No one noticed as a groaning head popped up from the green fluffball on the neighboring chair, just standing on the other side of the bed. 

Stopping a few centimeters from Etho’s bedside, Beef pulled a chair up to the bed, staring into his eyes. Both of them, the natural one who followed his every movement and the other stagnant glass eye that Doc inserted all those years ago, twinkling with a shiny ruby color. He smiled, that same ragged smirk everyone knew him for. 

Etho took his hand, rubbing it against Beef’s glabella like Bdubs would do with a horse. It was soft and comforting, the delicate, fuzzy line that split his face. A reminder of his bovine heritage, along with the horns he wore like a badge of honor. 

“Eh, don’t get too sappy on me now.” Etho responded dryly, almost chuckling. 

From the lack of response, Etho assumed Beef didn’t think it was very funny. He just sat there, letting Etho rub him in a comforting manner, the wide smile on his face slowly sinking into a pensive, pursing line, eyes growing wider. 

Etho paused, unable to say anything. He knew if he wasn’t so badly injured, Beef would have given him the tightest hug, the best way he showed his love. Instead, Beef nudged his head into Etho’s chest, the base of his small horns lightly bumping against the stickers monitoring his heartbeats. Beef made a soft, playful bellow, one that reminded Etho of the barking of a small puppy that wanted to play. Doc stepped closer as if to warn him not to hurt him but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, okay.” Etho noticed Beef’s presence but didn’t push it away as he patted the back of his head with one of his arms. “Missed you too, Beefers.” 

The soft moment was interrupted by a scream and a sudden thud, Etho’s good eye catching something green falling onto the ground in a flash of green. The mossy ball on the floor popped up like a cartoon character who had just been flattened by an anvil, rising to his feet and fluffing himself out with a shake. 

“ETHO!” Bdubs screamed, running to give him a hug before Doc held him back. 

“Sei vorsichtig!” Doc growled, sharper than he intended, as he picked Bdubs up. “I don’t want you to tear any of his stitches.” 

“But Docccccc!” Bdubs whined, kicking in the air like a feral cat that didn’t want to be held. 

“I know, but I want you to be careful, alright?” Doc warned, finally putting him down. 

Bdubs rolled his eyes. “Fine, smartbutt.” 

Etho lazily petted Beef’s soft head, still pretty tired and sore from everything that just happened. His bones ached as if he had walked back to the server himself, a trek he had been expecting. He returned home, one way or another. Beef was happy to greet him, Bdubs couldn’t control himself in excitement and Doc was just glad the order was back on Hermitcraft. 

His order. 

His family.

“You all came together?” Etho asked slowly but curiously. “For me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” Bdubs perked up, punching his shoulder lightly before Doc could intervene. “You mean the world to us, stupid-face.” 

Etho moved his arm, rubbing the soreness out. Void, he loved Bdubs’ energy, the kind that lingered onto anyone he interacted with. The untamed, reckless man he always loved, the one who only knew how to be rough-and-tumble. 

Doc watched from the background, letting Beef and Bdubs pamper him. He knew Etho hated being the center of attention, but Doc wasn’t going to intervene. Besides, after how he left them, he kind of deserved the momentary embarrassment. 

“You didn’t have to drop everything for me.” Etho croaked with a soft nod, looking over at Doc. 

Doc puffed his fur out for a moment before it went back down to normal with a humbling cough, his voice low and timid. “No, we would be willing to do it all over again just to have you back.” 

“Good.” Etho smiled. “I’m glad you care enough to save me.” 

Doc just scoffed, trying to sound disinterested. “I would do it with just about any hermit. You’re not special.” 

Beef gave Doc a mean look, letting out a mean huff like a bull about to charge. Bdubs also looked with the same glance as a disappointed mother. 

“I mean… I wouldn’t treat you any differently than any of my other patients.” Doc tried to reword his statement but fumbled with the wording. “Wait, that sounds wrong too.” 

Etho just laughed weakly, trying not to tickle his ribs in the wrong way. “That’s okay, Doc. I know what you mean. You try to take care of everything and I appreciate that.” 

Doc smiled gently, trying to switch out of friend mode and into doctor mode with a gentle cough. “So, uhhhh… How are you feeling? Not in a lot of pain, are you?” 

“No, but sore.” Etho responded with a small yawn, rubbing his fake eye as if it were real. “And kinda tired. Maybe hungry. Definitely need a nap. And a sandwich.” 

“I understand.” Doc bowed in agreement. “You’ll have plenty of time to rest as you heal.”

“Yeah, and we’ll be with you the entire way.” Beef added, moving over to where he carelessly put the sandwiches and placing one in his hands. “We’re not leaving you behind. Not now, not ever.”

“Nope!” Bdubs agreed, bouncing up and down on his heels like a spring by the side of the bed. “You’re stuck with us. All of us.” 

Etho wouldn’t have had it any other way. His friends, the only crutch he needed, the only panacea for any ailment that was to befall him. They always had his back, even if they didn’t always look out for each other.

Opening his mouth to eat the attempt at making his favorite sandwich, Etho looked ahead of him, noticing a tall shadow drifting across the walls through the open door. One familiar but deceptive, like a fly drawn to the colors of a carnivorous plant. There was a small voice calling his name, as soft as a lullaby oozing with morbid lyrics.  

When the figure stopped, Etho embraced every part of it. Her long red hair that flowed like waves reflecting the morning sun, green eyes that sparkled like emeralds deep underground, a dirt-flecked pair of overalls on top of a cozy green sweater.  

Gem. 

The one he called both an apprentice and a daughter, although Gem rejected both labels. The one who exposed his flaws but kept him on his heels when he was slipping. The one he longed to be like just as much as she longed to be like him. 

And Etho couldn’t have been more thankful to see her again. 

Gem’s eyes seemed to light up at the sight of him awake and well, or at least healing. She elegantly darted over with her long legs, slow and cautious like a deer towards a decoy. As belligerent as she could be, she was understanding and knew how to be gentle. 

In her hands, Etho noticed that she was holding a small white box, one with a label titled TCG CARDS written on the top. She positioned herself somewhere next to Beef, presenting him with the box.

“Here.” Gem offered. “You left these behind when you sprinted off in such a hurry.” 

“Oh, thanks.” Beef responded, eyes glowing as he looked at the box as if he had completely forgotten about it in the rush. 

Etho eyed the box, wondering what was inside as Beef took it from Gem’s hands. From how it looked, it seemed like one of those recipe boxes, vintage and flowery, ironic for who it belonged to. It made a shuffling sound as it moved, just like a deck of cards, but deeper and bulkier. 

Gem kneeled down to Etho’s level, looking him gently in the eye as he reached out to him tenderly. She rubbed against his arm, lightly tracing over the bandages that were wrapped around like a half-untangled mummy. 

“Hey, big guy.” She started softly, her tone almost sarcastic. “Heard you got a little beaten up out there.” 

Etho just scoffed. “Beaten up is an understatement. More like I almost got torn to shreds.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Gem smiled back. “If you were to come back to this server, I would like it if you came back in one piece.”

Etho chuckled softly. “Well, here I am. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

“That’s good.” Gem stood up, looking intimidating. “If not, I’ll tie you to this bed so you don’t move around and hurt yourself.”

“Trust me, I don’t feel like walking anytime soon.” Etho kept up that wide, genuine smile, letting his tired back lean into the warm pillow behind him. “I’ll save that for later when my legs don’t feel like they’ve been used as a carving board.”  

Gem just chuckled back. “Fair.” 

Etho’s eye drifted back to Beef’s box, which looked much smaller compared to his large size. Beef shifted through the box as if he was checking his inventory, sighing as he noticed every card was safe and accounted for. 

“Whatcha got there, Beefers?” Etho asked curiously. 

“Oh, this?” Beef sounded unsure, almost bashful about it, as he looked down at the container. “It’s just…” 

“It’s the official Hermitcraft card game!” Gem butted in before Beef could intervene, full of a sudden energy that just struck her. “Featuring all the hermits! Beef made it up himself. Well, he had some help, but it was mostly his doing.” 

“Card game?” Etho wasn’t sure if it was all the emotions in the room or him just being on some strong painkillers, but Etho felt like he was going to cry as he looked his friend in the eye. “Beefers…” 

Beef started to blush, trying to hide his face with the bandana that hung around his throat. Etho didn’t need to see him turn into a tomato. 

“I thought you would like it.” Beef mumbled nervously into his bandana. “All the other hermits I’ve talked to so far have. Thought it would be a nice way to celebrate the server and all the nice things they have done for us. Everyone has been waiting for you to come back and… I just needed something to cope, that’s all.” 

Etho took in the silence for a moment as Gem pulled a card out of the box, putting it right into his hand. Etho brought it closer to his working eye, ignoring how his hand shook slightly as it moved. 

There, right in front of him, was a drawing of him. A bit cartoony, with fair skin and chiseled details he never noticed about himself before, but it was art. He wanted to put it somewhere, like some little kids drawing so he could always have that cute picture in the back of his mind, but even he knew that art belonged to the server.

“Thank you.” He smiled, the brightest first one Gem had ever seen. “Thank you so much.” 

Gem smiled back. “No problem.” 

~~~~~

It was almost showtime. 

Etho looked at himself in the mirror, debating where to put the small flowery pin Bdubs gave him. He wanted to put it somewhere in the fluff of his vest, somewhere visible where all the hermits could see. He wanted Bdubs to be a part of this, bigger than he already was. 

The kickoff to the tournament was a big deal. One Beef had been hyping up for a while. A game that he and a few other hermits poured their hearts and souls into to create a wonderful tribute to a server they’d grown familiar with, a salute to a place they all called home.  

Etho was no exception. When he learned he was one of the first cards to be made, he cried like a baby. He never cried, usually not sober. He probably wouldn't have if he wasn’t so doped up on painkillers. They always made him mushy and slushy like a pile of melting snow. 

Over the past few months, Etho improved dramatically. Even Doc was astonished by how quickly he seemed to recover, going from in pain and bedridden to walking and alert in less than a week. Sure, he wasn’t back to a hundred percent and he wouldn’t be sparring with Gem anytime soon, but he was able to continue on with his daily life, albeit carefully. 

Bdubs believed his favorite herbal tea that he had been forcing down Etho’s throat ever since he returned did the trick. Then again, he claimed his tea could cure anything. Stress, insomnia, pain, digestive problems. No wonder why it tasted like a bunch of random flavors mashed together, from peppermint and cinnamon to lavender and ginger. Given Bdubs, that’s probably what it was. Just a bunch of plants he collected from the community garden, the one they’ve had every season that he could remember.

Etho had been very productive the last month or two, more than he had been the entire time he returned. He finally had enough strength to build a base with Bdubs’ help, although he fussed at him every so often when Etho winced in pain. Building bases, even without the added bonus of an injury, was a chore for his aging, aching bones, but he was too stubborn to admit it. Still, he didn’t try to overdo it, and when Bdubs told him to sit down and rest, he obeyed and let Bdubs pamper and scold him. 

Gem came around every so often to play, not with swords, but with little board and card games that Etho and his friends racked up over the years. Scrabble, Scattergories, Battleship, Uno, games that most people would play with their families or friends. Sometimes, she would just come by to ramble, to talk about her day, to read books with him, to catch up with him and to learn more about each other. A bee collecting the nectar of knowledge, a flower passing along the pollen of experience.  

It was then that Etho saw another side to her. One not just motivated by impulses to fight and win, but rather a calming intelligence she had locked away behind a vault of scratches and bruises, almost like a wilder reflection of himself. Wisdom she had collected from the fantasy books she absorbed herself in during youth, big fancy words only a vast reader would know. A willingness to learn and absorb information, just like Etho did when he was her age. 

Maybe his hiatus was good for her. It helped her develop her own character, a gentler side to her than just the sharp edge of a blade. It helped to sharpen other parts of her as well. 

Etho knew Gem was waiting out there in the crowd for him, probably sitting next to Pearl, if he were to guess. They were the reason why he was able to do this, helping more with the server than Etho would have ever imagined before. She did draw out each hermit, giving them more color and life than Etho’s pathetic stick figures ever could. 

He had been in that room for a solid forty-five minutes, sitting there in the comfortable chair that swerved slightly, looking at a face in the mirror that no longer scared him. The bulbs Cub put in while he was building the arena with Beef and his other friends had a certain flickering brightness to them, almost like a spotlight exposing every little patch of skin, no matter how imperfect.

Etho embraced his flaws years ago. He wouldn’t change it for anything else.

Placing the flower on the left side of his vest so everyone could see, Etho wondered what the other hermits were doing. He wasn’t one for makeup and fancy costumes, but he knew there were other hermits who were. Beef was probably letting Keralis pamper him right about now with too much blush. The same with xB, his competitor, who had let Hypno do his makeup a couple times before and actually liked it as much as Hypno liked doing it. 

Etho wasn’t one for changing his style. He dressed one way and one way only. He didn’t care if it was boiling hot or if it was freezing cold. He didn’t care if it was a formal or an informal occasion. The hermits would accept him either way. 

Bdubs, who was called as an assistant to help him walk across the stage, was there in the room with him, tending to his own reflection in the mirror as Etho turned to face him. Like Etho, Bdubs cared very little about his appearance. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t brush his hair or wear clothes and would let the woods take him back like an abandoned shack inhabited by possums. Despite the server not having a strict dress code, it still had a dress code nonetheless. He had to wear some form of clothes, he had to practice good hygiene, he had to look like a normal-ish member of society. 

He didn’t change much, but Etho still liked that. 

His wild hair was held up by a rustic bandana, much like Etho’s more polished headband. The mossy cloak that covered his body and the symbolic little flowers that covered his back that he had sewn up himself, just like the flowers he had given Etho. The torn jeans on his legs that were sewn up with floral designs in places, the shiny clock that swung from his hip to help him keep up with the time, the white shirts always covered in dirt stains on every day except today, when he decided to wash it up for once. Every flaw that Etho cherished and hoped he never changed. 

Bdubs was combing through his short hair, finely brushing out the tangles that made him look unruly. A couple of the other hermits bullied him for looking so slovenly most of the time, but his stunt with RentheKing made him cherish the value of being clean and looking noble. Sure, Ren wasn’t acting like himself and the Soup Group managed to snap him out of it, but his imperial influence seemed to rub off on Bdubs like golden fleas. 

Still, it was Bdubs. Short, loveable Bdubs. 

The horse he bought from Scott stood on the counter, already showered with love. He already made him a little mossy saddle to match him with his limited sewing skills. From the time that Etho’s backpack had been retrieved from the battlefield, covered in blood but otherwise unharmed, he knew Etho bought that horse for him. He never left without it. It fit perfectly in one of the pockets inside his cloak, so he always carried it around like a treasure. 

Etho was glad it was put into good use. It served him well and now it was time for it to help Bdubs. 

A sharp knock came to the door. Both Etho and Bdubs turned to face it. 

Beef walked in with an outfit Etho could only describe as looking like a casual bartender in a lawless boomtown riddled with rebels and outlaws, just like the server he found himself on. He wore a white buttoned shirt, held together by dark straps at his shoulders that connected to his black pants. There was a handsomely silky black bowtie at his collar, one that fit comfortably right under his neat and tidy beard.  

“Hey, haven’t heard from you guys in a while.” Beef started with a mirthful smile. “I was starting to wonder if you bailed out on me.” 

“Nah, not thinking about doing that anymore.” Etho masked the silence with self-deprecating humor. “I’ve had enough running for one season, that’s for sure.” 

“Fair.” Beef teased back with a laugh. “Just hoping you have enough energy for the tournament.”

“Of course we do!” Bdubs interjected energetically. “Why would we miss it?” 

“Alright, cool.” Beef checked the small watch on his wrist, pulling back the frilly sleeves to see it. “It’s almost about time to start. xB’s pretty eager to kick your tail out there.” 

“Not if I can help it.” Etho stood up, fluffy white tail swishing as he stretched out his arms sore from standing still, but nothing like the bedsores and atrophy he narrowly avoided while being cooped up in that hospital bed. “The only thing he’ll be beating up is himself for not winning.” 

Beef just chuckled. “We’ll see about that.” 

Beef trudged away, probably to rehearse his lines and mentally prepare himself for the big performance. The subtle hum of stage fright seemed to line his every movement, from the small twitches in his hands to the shaky smile under all that well-oiled facial hair. 

Etho was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Bdubs creep up beside him, eager to assist him as he nudged his arm. “What are you waiting for, stupid? C’mon, let’s get going!” 

Bdubs took his arm, much like a proud married couple walking out of a chapel on a bright sunny day. They walked, side by side, all the way to the entrance of the spotless, glistening arena, just behind a dark curtain. 

Not quite stepping out, Etho peeked past the curtains to see everyone watching with hopeful eyes. As expected, Gem was right there in the front row, right between Pearl and Impulse. Tango was tightly gripping onto Impulse’s arm, with Zed sitting on the other side of him with a comforting, reassuring look. He was safe, happy, and exactly how Etho wanted him. 

Other hermits had arrived, each chatting amongst themselves. Scar, Cub, Mumbo, and Grian were talking with each other, just like they normally did. Jevin sat between Wels and False, showing them all the little fixtures he made there. Ren seemed to wear a slightly guilty face for all the trouble he caused, but Doc's presence seemed to ease his worries. Xisuma watched from afar, seated next to Joe and Cleo. 

Despite the entire server being there, the seats looked empty. Beef and his building associates must have overcompeted for the members of the server. Still, it gave the illusion that not everyone was watching. If they had been crowded, Etho probably would have been more nervous than he already was. 

But Etho was ready. 

As ready as he’ll ever be.