Deep yet ragged breaths wracked his small frame as he shuddered with each passing convulsion. Thankfully, the intensity of the powerful visions were ebbing away and he found the fogginess on his brain lifting, the spores were settling and the temporary effects they caused were dying with them. Honestly, he was both exhausted and exhilarated from the terrifying surge of adrenaline he had experienced. Both from the images and the fact it was him that had done that. Even if it had been unto him. He was just a good a target as any but he hadn't yet noticed the presence of Saudade.

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Though he was in a compromising position, he could now gain a clear view of what was unfolding in front of him. A leggy looking creature had entered, sporting the same pointed jaw that he too carried, he could only imagine what monstrosities it housed so he stiffened. Weak and dizzy, he held back the bile that was clawing its way to the surface and lifted his head to gaze at the newly hatched fuzzy creature. Baby birns weren't really known to him, it looked like nothing he had seen but also had the same thoughts along the lines of "I could eat that, looks yummy." Bevy was attempting to defend it from the large-leggy-fox and while he wished to join them, he had to put his head back on the ground to stop himself from vomiting.

This was certainly embarrassing, he had been attempting to brainwash and corrupt the minds of the birb and the baby. All he'd done was fuck himself up and now he was lying here like roadkill. Not sure what was the better idea, remaining still or indicating he had survived the terrifying ordeal he raised a forelimb into the air before letting it flop back to the ground. Head tilted, he couldn't hold it back anymore and retched up everything that made up the contents of his stomach.

Absolutely delightful. The side effects of poisonous hypnotic shrooms and having no idea what one is doing. A gurgling noise emerged from the back of his throat straight after and he shivered.

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He nearly fell over, at first, mind still shocked into blank emptiness by his swarming magic. Magic he had been, thus far, unable to control. The blind fledgling gathered himself, gently and delicately clutching his taloned foot around Little-Voice's slender one, holding. He had wanted to... to what? He had some vague idea that touching the Little-Voice would teach him things, show him things. It hadn't, it had just filled his mind with buzzing.

And now?

All else aside, something about the fellow bird's touch was soothing. Ignoring the paw-steps to one side, and the ragged gasping of the Big-Voice behind him, the owlet opened his eyelids to expose the bright green gems within, gazing blindly toward Bevy. Like any young bird just-hatched, he thought, in an instinctive sense, that he had found a sort of mother.

She spoke. What had she said?

"I'm Bevy. Can you talk?"

The words flitted briefly through Dark's mind, like birds in the dark. He squawked.

"Talk."

Then, he gripped slightly more tightly--holding "hands," or rather feet, with the other bird. Eventually he gently extracted his taloned claws, setting both feet back down, still staring up with blind, blank emerald eyes.

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"Bevy. Little."

He didn't understand much of what he said, only parroted the words, but he knew, at least, that these two were important.

Especially that first one. He mulled it over in his mind, committing it to memory, forever to be associated with Little-Voice. He gently squawked it again, pondering its meaning.

"Bevy."

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The newly-hatched blind owl listened intently as the Little Voice spoke. Almost as soon as he recognized a tone of--concern? Fear?--concealed, but there--he also sensed the soft surge of tingling magic. He wasn't sure what she'd done, but she had not harmed him, so when he heard her tiny claws start to click, click, click away over the stone, he followed.

He hopped, then hopped again, wings held unsteadily out for balance. He could not see his path but he didn't need to; he could hear Bevy tackling it first, and guess where to put his own taloned feet.

As he went, oblivious to the danger behind him--and to any danger the poor fox might be in--he forgot everything but the stone underfoot and Little-Voice. He felt calmer, safer, following her--and vocalized it in the only way he knew how, cheerfully hiss-squawking her name.

"Bevy. Bevy! Bevy, Bevy. Bevy."

He didn't really know other words yet, so as he followed the toxic bird off down the cave tunnel, he continued to just happily parrot her name. The fox and the maned wolf, assuming they did not follow, would likely just hear the clicking of the blind owl's talons and the quiet repetition of the single word, fading off down the tunnel:

"BevyBevyBevyBevy. Bevy..."

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