Fundy paced back and forth in the kitchen, glaring at the tiled floor. "I just can't believe they left me here," the hybrid muttered. "It's been days, and I'm still waiting here."

Philza took a sip from his hot cocoa and sighed. "Oh, Fundy, it's not so bad. You get to spend time with me and your cousin, Michael." The old man reached across the table and rubbed the top of the tiny piglin's head. Michael squealed with delight. "See? Look how happy he is that you're here."

Fundy groaned, rolling his eyes. "That child doesn't even know my name."

Michael smacked his little hands against the surface of the table. "Uncle Fumby!"

"See, Phil? He thinks I'm his uncle!"

Philza waved off the fox's concerns as he took another sip of his drink. "Hey, don't worry, mate. He's young. He'll come around."

As Michael continued drumming his hands on the table, Fundy couldn't help but wallow in self-pity. The fox hybrid longed for adventure. He wanted to be out with the other hunters, saving the world from a mysterious threat. Instead, he'd been forced to watch over his reclusive grandfather and his piglin cousin. Fundy was not a babysitter.

Tubbo must still be holding that grudge, the fox hybrid reasoned. That's why he gave me a boring job. Yes, that's it. This is payback for joining Las Nevadas. Before the final days of L'Manberg, Fundy and Tubbo had been citizens of the small nation. Together, they had fought wars, mourned deaths, and shared victories. They were the perfect uncle-nephew duo, inseparable until tragedy struck.

In the ruins of their once proud nation, and the death of its leader, a promising figurehead emerged. The man was loud and outspoken, but he made some good points. L'Manberg had been reduced to rubble over war and violence; an era of peace and community was needed. It was time to rebuild and relocate. Quackity soon gained the popular vote, rallying the masses over the chance to start anew.

But Tubbo resisted. The goat hybrid claimed Quackity was nothing but a fraud, a venture capitalist looking to make a quick buck. He'd leave his country to starve the minute a more profitable opportunity came up. To combat this potential disaster, Tubbo had decided to form his own nation. It would be known as "Snowchester", the quaint gem of a village in the winter woods. With its over-abundance in precious lumber, future residents would have more than enough resources to rebuild. And, to keep an eye on his political rival, Tubbo planned to build an outpost along their shared borders; posed as a meager cookie shop, Quackity would be none the wiser.

Despite forming the "perfect" plan, Tubbo was met with a wall of disapproval. The displaced citizens of L'Manberg all agreed that the goat hybrid was...unstable. Tubbo had, indeed, been friends with Wilbur Soot, former president of L'Manberg. Subsequently, during the war with Dream, Wilbur had gone clinically insane, and had worked with his enemy to blow up the nation. The people believed Tubbo had been too closely associated with the British madman to be considered trustworthy. Quackity was a new face. Surely, his proposal to create "Las Nevadas" was guided by objectivity. He was the people's choice, their chosen hope.

As well as Fundy's.

Tubbo was livid when he found out. The fight between him and Fundy had been cataclysmic. The goat hybrid didn't understand why his nephew- his family, wouldn't follow him to the winter frontier. The fox begged Tubbo to see the reason in staying with the community; if L'Manberg wanted to go with Quackity, then they should all go with Quackity. Angry words were said in the heat of the moment, cutting deep into both of their hearts. The bond that held the two together had strained and broken- the damage was irreparable.

In the end, most of L'Manberg's population went with Quackity, while some rejoined Dream's- now Eret's, kingdom. And while Fundy left for sunny Las Nevadas, Tubbo left for the snow-capped hills of Snowchester, his two friends Jack and Ranboo in tow.

The uncle and nephew pair hadn't seen each other since, meeting once again on the night of the fire. Sadly, grudges were thicker than blood, and here Fundy was, taking care of the weak links in the chain. He sighed; he was meant for so much better.

The fox hybrid was pulled out of his depressing flashback by the sudden distant sound of glass shattering. Philza turned in his seat, mug in hand. "What was that?"

Fundy narrowed his eyes in the direction of the noise- he had a bad feeling about whatever, or whoever, had entered the house. "Stay here, Phil," he ordered. "I'll go take a look."

The fox crept his way out of the kitchen, and around the corner into the living room. After a quick scan of the space, Fundy noticed a broken vase in the far corner. Since when did Phil keep a vase there? Hadn't it been on the other side of the room-

The long, wisp of black smoke leaking out of the vase told the hybrid all he needed to know: it was a dreamon. The dark smoke billowed into a cloud of ebony fog, coming together to form a wretched, faceless ghoul. A high-pitched scream pierced Fundy's ears, but what was more surprising was the fact that it hadn't come from the dreamon.

"Fundy!" It was Philza!

The fox flinched at the desperate sound of his grandfather, but he hesitated to move. The dreamon seemed to be waiting for him to choose, patient in its own wicked way. "Greetings, son of Soot", the beast hissed. "Prepare to face your demise, one your father knows all-too-well." Wait...His father?

"FUNDY!! HELP!!"

Fundy grunted. He hated to leave an unfaced threat lingering in the house, but his family came first. The fox bolted back into kitchen, and groaned- there was a second dreamon. Philza was pressed up against the cabinets, wings out and ready to flee, but something kept him rooted to the floor. An intense, primal fear filled the elder's eyes; in a hoarse, pained whisper, he choked out, "Michael!".

The fox followed his grandfather's gaze to the kitchen table. The poor piglin was crouched under the piece of furniture, hands over his little ears. Whines of distress squeaked out from the child as the being drew closer and closer. Fundy was livid. How dare these dreamons try to kidnap his baby cousin, a pure package of sunshine and joy? How dare they? He'd show them- he'd show them all.

OH NO!!! THE DREAMONS ARE BACK!!

VOTE TO HELP FUNDY SAVE PHILZA AND MICHAEL!!!

As always, thank you for all the support! Ily more than Fundy loves his baby cousin. <333

[Image Credits] "Scared Child at Nighttime.jpg" (Cropped Slightly) by D Sharron Pruitt (https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Scared_Child_at_Nighttime.jpg)