Smurfskip (Or: How Jokey Smurf Invented Parkour)

Chapter 16: [28:48]

Loop 30

Jokey sighs, eyes opening to the familiar sight of the branch. He dully pushes the bucket off, turning to head down the tree trunk. He's gotten faster, it takes half as much time as it used to.

Still, the fox is sitting calmly at the bottom, yawning as it patiently waits for him. He blinks up at it.

"That sure of yerself, huh?"

It shrugs, then stands and shakes itself off, dropping into a chase stance.

He sighs again, deeper this time, and turns to run. He doesn't care which direction he goes in. It doesn't matter anymore.

He has to cross the river. He jumps across some stones, almost slipping a few times in his haste to get to the other side.

He tries to ignore the phantom feeling of cold wet can't breathe nonono help .

He makes it to the cliff after about an hour, like always. He climbs up in practiced movements, stable and unstable handholds nearly memorized by now.

The fox is at the bottom of the cliff, playing with some twigs while it waits for him. He does his best to tune it out.

He hates how used he's gotten to ignoring it.

He pulls himself up slowly, taking his time to get each step right. It's almost peaceful, almost enough to make him zone out, grabbing each handhold almost automatically. He pauses, unable to spot another handhold, idly trying to remember where the next is hidden.

His attention snaps fully back as he realizes he can't remember where the next is hidden.

Because he's never gotten this far before. He's already halfway up the cliff!

He shouts in triumph, clinging tightly to the cliff as he looks carefully around for the next handhold. Huh, it must really be hidden well, he can't–

He slips, falling into a crumpled heap on the ground. The fox sniffs him almost curiously, whining.

"Oh, just smurf it over with already!" Jokey demands, glaring at it. It nods, opening its jaws wide. He whimpers, trying to push himself away. He's too injured to get very far. "Wait, no, I smurf that ba–"