"Where are they?" Quackity asked from the other side of the tree where he was belting himself to the branch for the night.

"Still up north. I wonder why they haven't found us yet."

"I think I know. They aren't tracking you, they're tracking me."

"So?"

Quackity sighed. "I slept in Wilbur's bed, I'm wearing his clothes. They haven't found us because I smell too much like Wilbur. It's throwing them off so they're following my old trail to the prison from three days ago, instead."

"So why are we sleeping in a tree?"

Through the dimly lit leaves Tubbo could see Quackity's weary frown. "Because it won't last and I don't want to be woken up tomorrow by a pack of ravenous wolves and a f-ing crossbow bolt through my brain."

Tubbo frowned. "Is that why we're by the river?"

"Yeah. We'll walk in the river until we get to the docks. Then we should be able to get a boat and approach Snowchester from the east. Dream won't be expecting that."

Tubbo did the mental calculations. Even at their fastest, it would be at least two more days before they reached the prison. Two more days of running and hiding while Dream hunted them with a pack of wolves. Dream who would certainly grow more and more dangerous with every passing day while Sam slowly starved to death. His leg shook with anxiety, rustling the leaves on the branches. Time was the one luxury they didn't have. "Why go to Snowchester at all, then? Why not just go to the prison?"

"You can't be f-ing serious. I have a razor and you have a f-ing kitchen knife. The closest thing either of us has for armor are Wilbur's sh-tty sweaters. We'd have trouble beating a fairly determined goose in this state, let alone breaking into Pandora's Vault for f-ck's sake."

Tubbo's ears twitched. He heard a rustling sound coming toward them, something human-sized. It was making no effort to hide its movements through the forest, so it was probably someone who was armed and confident they could take on anyone who might try to f-ck with them. "Shhh," he said. "Someone's coming."

Quackity froze. Tubbo held his breath as a large man appeared from the underbrush. He was wearing a forest green cloak with the hood pulled up and an axe on his back. The shadows of twilight and the dense leaves of their tree made it hard to see more than a few quick glimpses of him. Tubbo glanced over at Quackity, who remained motionless, except for his eyes. He looked down to see the man, only to see the flash of his axe.

The tree shook as a loud thunk filled the air. Then another, and another. Tubbo's panicked eyes met Quackity's. He was cutting down the tree! Did he know they were there? Were they going to have to fight a guy with an axe with just a dull knife he'd stolen from Wilbur's kitchen and a straight razor? If he died, what would happen to Ranboo? The only dads Michael would have would be in portraits. He'd be all alone!

"Stay still and hold on tightly." Big Q mouthed. "We'll run when the tree falls."

"Ok." Tubbo nodded. Suddenly, he heard a loud cracking sound. He looked down to see a large crack in the branch he knelt on. "Big Q! Big Q, the branch is breaking!" Tubbo hissed.

"F-ck. Just hold on."

Tubbo watched as Big Q tried to weave through the web of shaking branches. Crack! The branch Quackity just stepped on broke. He was hanging by his arms in the fork of a tree branch!

"Big Q!" Tubbo fought to keep from shouting. He searched the shaking tree around him, all the branches he could reach were barely thicker than his finger. There was one above him that was wider. He tried to stand. His branch made an even louder cracking sound and fell a few inches. He dropped back down, grabbing onto it for dear life.

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