The air that early spring morning was crisp and Cobra couldn't help a shiver. A plethora of wildlife activity, made even louder by his acute ears, sounded in rejoicing over the new day. As if it were anything special. Still, there was some comfort to be found in knowing he wasn't entirely alone. Cubellious being by his side, in the beginning, had sparked a similar relief. The fact that they weren't human didn't bother him. In many ways, it could be seen as preferable. He glanced to the side and suppressed an eye roll at the noisy gait of his current "companion".
Macbeth stumbled down the hill, still half-asleep even after chugging a whole two cups of nasty coffee (much to Cobra's nausea). Cobra matched his plodding pace, using it to silently organize his thoughts. He wasn't quite at Sawyer's level of acting before thinking, although he was sorely tempted more than once to shake Macbeth out of his sleepy stupor and demand to know what was going on. He figured they'd get to the place, do a little "investigating" and then Cobra would have his time to ask questions. Ask politely first, then a shake-down if it wasn't a satisfactory response. Or–even if it was–and he just didn't like the answer.
His plans were thwarted when about halfway down, Macbeth, still groggy, but with a little more life in him, spoke. "I know you heard a little of things last night, but I should probably take the time now to explain what I told them."